The not-immortal Blacksmith

City of Dragon, Snows Provence, Kingdom of Garthia

34th of Anael, the first month of snow.

Maxwell stared at what lay beyond the door: a bright light, illuminating Books.

BOOKS.

Books as far as the eye could see. Large books, small books, red books, blue books. For a few moments Maxwell’s brain shut down. And that was how one of the librarians found him in the general circulation shelves, in the section “Books about Color” [Section 752 of the DeWalt System of Decimals].

When Max came back to his senses, he was confronted by a young man with a shock of bright red hair, short cropped beard, and wearing the plain white robe of an acolyte of Wisdom. The man smiled at him, “Can I help you good sir?”

“…um…” Max said intelligently.

“Well, sir, let me show you the way to the lounge.” The young man steered Max by the elbow to a gathering of chairs, low tables, and couches. “Please, have a seat.”

Max sat, his mind whirling at the sheer number of books that sat on the orderly shelves around him.

“I am Acolyte Shamus, and it is both my pleasure and duty to serve in this section of the temple of Wisdom. One day I aspire to be in charge of the whole Color section, as opposed to just this room, which covers 752.21-2101!”

“Seven what now?” Max finally said.

“Section 7, The Arts; Subsection 5, Painting; Sub-Subsection 2, Color; after the decimal we have the category, subject, then author.” Shamus stated, a happy smile spreading across his face. “My section only contains seven thousand books, but I hope to grow it in the time I am here in order to prove my worth to the goddess!”

“…um… I don’t need the color section…” Max finally said. “I actually need to translate some ancient pictograms.”

“Oh.” Shamus said, a small frown crossing his lips before his smile beamed again, “I can help you find what you need!” The young man glided across the lounge to a very large plain wall box of small drawers, and pulled a drawer out seemingly at random. The drawer extended out some four feet, before he called quietly across the lounge, “Do you know the age of the pictograms?”

Eyes wide, Max responded “No. Just that they are very old, and were found at the bottom of a dried out well.”

“Alright.” Shamus replied, writing a large number of numbers on a piece of card he had pulled from within his robe. “I will be just a minute to find these sources for you, why don’t you make yourself comfortable at one of the research tables?”

“Um, sure?” Max looked up from the carpet he had bees staring at to see that Shamus was already gone. By the time he had moved to the table, Shamus had returned with a cart full of books. Some were thick, others thin, but all were well cared for.

Eyes wide at the large pile of books, Max asked, “This is all of them?”

“All of the ones that I am allowed to bring you at one time. There are more in the stacks and I have placed a request for a couple from the restricted section as well.”

Max gulped, “Thank you?”

Shamus smiled even brighter, “You are very welcome! Just ring the bell by the card catalog if, or when, you need something!” And Shamus walked away.

Max stared at the pile of books for an indeterminant amount of time, then got busy looking for what he needed.

Sever hours, and many dozens of books later, Max jumped from his chair and yelled, “FOUND IT!” Causing Shamus to appear at his elbow.

“Patrons are not supposed to yell in the library, good sir.” Placing a hand gently on Max’s shoulder. “But we of the library are glad you found what you are looking for.”

Max gave the young man an apologetic grin, “Sorry.”

“No worries. Will you be needing anything else today?”

“I heard what sounded like a monkey in the back, what was that about?” Max asked.

“An orangutang, sir.” Shamus replied, “And do bear that in mind if you ever meet him, he is very particular about that.”

Max raised his eyebrows, “Okay? What was the orangutang looking for?”

“A book about the colors of magic.”

-

Max walked the dark streets of Dragon back to the beach as he thought about what he had found in the Library of Wisdom. Elemental. Earth. Old. Sealed in a stone, at the bottom of a dried out well. Why? Who? The “how” is obvious. What in the hells? As his feet carried him to the beach, he continued on his thoughts. I will have to sleep on it.

-

Meanwhile, in The Celestial Realm, in the Library of Wisdom, a conversation was taking place…

“Mistress Wisdom? An Acolyte has requested access to the restricted section on behalf of a patron.” Archibald, High Priest of the Stacks said. “The patron has already left, but you may still be interested.”

Wisdom looked up from the newspaper she had been reading, “Well, get on with it.” She snapped.

“As I am sure you are aware, the small god Maxwell entered the library this morning—” Archibald started before he was interrupted.

“Yes, yes. Showed up in 752.21-2101. I know, I let him in.” She glared as all people who don’t like their reading being interrupted do, “So What?”

Archibald swallowed hard, “Maxwell wanted translations of old runic god speech pictograms.”

Wisdom raised her voice, clear for all in the library to hear, “AND YOU ONLY BRING THIS TO MY ATTENTION NOW?!?!?”

-

35th of Aneal

I have spent the day translating more of the pictograms, and re-entered the well. The stone wall is actually covered with the damn things, once you know what you are looking for. As of now, I need to get back into the library and look in the stacks for more books, probably the restricted section as well.

…I wonder if I am still banned from the Museum of Wisdom after I “borrowed” Stole all of those little figurines…