Power & Perfidy

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The Royal Library, Vitrazburg

10th February, 2025.

"She burnt everything down except these two books?" his usually inaudible voice modulated a pitch higher and his drabby whiskey eyes which were dark like that burnt up, once majestic library, got ignited like the flames that were engulfing it just a few days back.

His throat was so accustomed to producing that monotonous voice that it hardly managed to make him sound excited but he indeed was fascinated.
His voice had some auditory caramel but as soon as his voice would mix with his words, it was hemlock - intolerable in both ways.

He was crouching down by the base of a bookshelf, where two books perched at a certain angle amidst the web of sharp shards of the broken bookshelf glass door.

"Yes." Answered the man standing tall and imposing behind him, clad in a meticulously tailored uniform, every crease and seam speaking of discipline and authority.

His jacket, a deep shade of midnight blue, bore the insignia of his rank of a general, proudly embroidered in gold thread upon the epaulets.
The buttons gleaming with a polished sheen, ridiculously-they were brighter than the former person's eyes.

The general had vigilance running in his veins, he had observed every move of the armies, every conspiracy, every action and reaction and thus he raised his eyebrows and asked, "You sound excited, Mr. Kyrell."

"Not everyone notices the change in my tones. But what you really should have noticed, being the much-revered general, Ryan Morozov, is who burnt this whole royal library and left only these two books." Kyrell turned waving the two books in his hands clad in black gloves, contrasting to the mahogany leather covers of those two dusty tomes.

He was wrapped in a thick, dark coat with a matching scarf. His hair, a tousled mess of dark espresso brown waves, that fell over his forehead but trimmed neatly around the sides, had subtle undertones of chestnut. The muted colors of his clothing made his features stand out even more-the sharp lines of his jaw, high cheekbones, full lips that held a hint of contemplation and the thoughtful curve of his thick brows. There was an air of quiet confidence about him, the kind that drew attention without demanding it, although, he wouldn't define himself as a confident being.

His gaze returned back to the covers when Ryan didn't answer anything. He brushed the soot and his eyes started tracing the peculiar features of the books: a tear in a circular shape in each, edges of which were charred and jagged, curling inward towards the centers. The covers were looking dirty beneath the remnants of layer of the grey ash coating except around the tears, faint golden threads were weaving intricate patterns, spiraling around that burnt abyss.
Also, burnt into the leather of each book, were gemstones, shining like a phoenix among the ash, rising with a spirit of mystery.

One book was embedded with seven rubies and the other was adorned with thirteen spessartite garnets.

"It's quite obvious that these two books were dropped here after burning everything, otherwise, how only these two escaped the fire? This burnt mark at their center was already there, judging from the weaving that has been done."

He glanced at Ryan again, who had an absence of any emotional cues : no furrowing of the brow, no tightening of the jaw, and no flicker of tension around his cobalt eyes. His lips rested in a straight, unperturbed line. Perfect confident posture, even breath.

"Trained military man." Kyrell sighed and started flipping through the pages of the book without fully registering its contents until a few smears of blood caught his eyes, he trailed his eyes to see the page number involuntarily, fifty-three.