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With all of Amaurot unlocked to them, it was hard to limit themselves to explore just the streets and lower levels.
Yes - they were here looking for someone - but this place brought forth a feeling within them that left them hungry for information and any hint of a clue for who these people might be.
Who the man they were here to fight might have been, once.
Why take the time to craft this place if not for them to appreciate? They wonder. They may be enemies now, on opposite sides of a conflict, but the Warrior certainly wasn't going to spurn an olive branch when it was proffered freely.
With their identity confirmed by the Bureau of the Architect, they were free to pass through just about every part of the city.
And so they do.
After a couple of bells of mindless wandering - checking in with Ryne and Urianger occasionally to make sure the group is apprised of the Warrior's said wanderings - they find themselves at the foot of some steps leading to another identical set of large double doors. The same doors they've seen countless times today, but these ones haven't been opened yet.
The Warrior pads slowly to the top, and pushes at one of the doors. It glides smoothly across marble floor and opens enough for them to gain entry.
Though dark upon entry, the large space hums to life as they cross the threshold and head into the center to the check-in desk of what looks to be a large library. What an…odd thing to bother to replicate. There is no one here, no other shades to provide company or assistance, so the Warrior ducks behind the desk to peer at the ledgers.
Most are hastily scribbled notes about missing volumes, but there is a small note tucked away about a private collection of some "Convocation" that piques their interest.
They mark the section, and head off into the library.
When they happen upon it after what ends up being trial and error, it is small and hidden among a few nondescript shelves.
The books are bound plainly, titles barely legible in the low light of this corner of the library, but they wander in. Running a finger down a spine of one of the books, they half pull it out to view the title:
"Common Botany Concepts for Agriculture, collected by Mitron of the Fourteen "
The Warrior pulls it free and flips through it for a moment before carefully replacing it. They look around and choose another.
"Convocation Meeting Minutes: Session I̅V̅CMXCIX "
They flip through this as well - this one is far too dry, and almost illegible with the way it is written out. 'Motioned ' and 'Seconded ' of various points and counters brought up over the course of what must have been days of meetings. How strange.
The next book simply reads:
"Pleasing Mathematical Equations "
They give that one a miss.
"A Chronicle of the Night Sky " Is the next book they stumble across.
The Warrior pulls this volume, thinner than some of the others but a bit taller, and opens it carefully. The pages are decorated with what looks like hand drawn replications of stars in the sky. Completely foreign from anything they’ve seen on either the Source or the First. Sometimes hundreds of small points nestled together to make beautiful shapes. They pour over it, rapt. Once the last page is turned, they replace the book on the shelf with a sigh.
They choose another book at random without looking and crack it open. A small one with a well used cover.
"…undeniable intelligence, I cannot stand the irreverence with which they treat -every- matter brought before the convocation. Irreverence is so unbecoming of a Convocation seat…"
The Warrior's eyebrows raise, and they flip a couple of pages and read on.
"…losing my composure in a meeting. Infuriating. I cannot bear the strain of having to temper anyone else's childish impulses. It is not my duty to bear the responsibility of anyone ele.."
Eyebrows fully shot to their hairline by this point, they close the book and flip it around, looking for a title, a name:
"The Meticulously Collected Lucubrations of the Most Esteemed Lahabrea, Speaker of the Convocation of Fourteen"
The Warrior, mouth agape, immediately shoves the book back on the shelf and steps back. This is not for them to see, and as to why a diary was in a library of all places…
Well, they imagine that must be one last needling joke of some sort. Between… friends? Who can say.
Curiosity piqued but being quite exhausted and unwilling to dig further into the library lest they stumble upon someone else's deep private thoughts, they take a hesitant step back. Then another. Then turn and head back to the large doors and the front.
They do take a moment to glance back at least one more time before crossing the threshold and leaving for what would probably be the last time, and the lights dim and flicker off once more.