Dungeon of Assassins [LitRPG Through the Eyes of the NPCs]

Moments later they stood in front of Bookhalla, the academy library. A book goblin carrying a stack of tomes spotted him. Dropping them onto a clean spot, the goblin sprinted straight at the surprised Weylan. "Shady one! Shady one is back! Come quick! Stitch misses you very much. Come! Come!"

Mirabelle smirked at him, but Weylan didn't notice since he was already being pulled away to the entry. Inside more book goblins dropped what they were doing to direct him deeper into the library, past towering shelves of tomes. Their glowing eyes peeked out from the shadows between stacks, but none dared follow beyond a certain point. They simply pointed him onward, toward the dimmest and dustiest wing of Bookhalla.

The air grew still. Cobwebs clung to shelves stacked with volumes no one had opened in centuries.

And there, half-curled in a narrow alcove between forgotten cabinets, sat Stitch.

She hugged her knees, chin pressed against patchwork arms, her eyes dull and unfocused. Several open books lay around her feet, but none looked as though she had read them past the first page.

For a moment Weylan hesitated. "Stitch?" he said softly.

Stitch rose from her corner as soon as she saw him, books sliding from her lap to the dusty floor. For a long moment she only stared, lips parted. Then she moved, closing the distance with sudden urgency, and caught him in a tight embrace.

"You came back," she said, her voice low but trembling with relief. "I was beginning to fear you wouldn't."

Weylan returned the hug, surprised by the strength in her arms. "Of course I came back. Why wouldn't I?"

She drew back just enough to meet his gaze. "Because I had almost convinced myself it didn't matter. That it was fine being alone, surrounded by books and goblins, buried in volumes no one else bothers to read. That was my world. Quiet… and empty. I didn't even realize I was lonely until I had someone to talk to." She glanced aside, eyes reflecting a faint light. "You spoke to me as if I wasn't a curiosity. Not a construct. Not a failed experiment to be forgotten in the archives. Just… a real person."

Weylan swallowed, unsure how to answer. "And that made the loneliness harder when I was gone?"

Stitch nodded slowly. "Yes. I always thought the silence was normal. But once I'd known the feeling of being heard, the silence became unbearable."

He exhaled, brushing a hand lightly over her patchwork hair. "Then I'll just have to make sure you're never left with only silence again."

A small smile broke across her face. "You don't know how much that means," she whispered. Slowly, she leaned back against the shelf, her hand still holding his as if reluctant to let go. "Then stay awhile. Not to study. Not to hunt for secrets. Just… to be here. With me."

He'd spoken without thinking and only then realized, he would be leaving the academy in about two months. Throwing her in isolation. Again. No. That wouldn't do. He silently vowed he would not let her return to a silent corner to be forgotten and alone. He didn't yet know how, but he would prevent hat. He'd at the least get her out of the library and introduce her to staff and students. Then he would find a way to either visit her often, or manage for her to visit him in Mulnirsheim. He'd need a teleport token or something.

She showed him around, to cozy book nooks, comfy chairs and the hidden tea kitchen. She showed him books with colorful pictures, breathtaking handwriting and illuminations. On their way back to the more open area of the library, they passed a book chained to the ground. Not on any kind of pedestal, or oriented in accordance to the bookshelves, just haphazardly lying on the floor and chained there with chains hooked up in random points.

Before he came even near, a goblin jumped down from a shelf. "No touchy touchy!"

"I wasn't trying to touch it. It looks… strange."

Stitch looked at the book with a disapproving look in her eyes. "That shouldn't be here."

The book-goblin bowed and made an apologizing gesture. "Came loose again. Book-goblins caught. Book-goblins secured. Informed grumpy one, but grumpy one not time yet."

She gestured Weylan to pass by the book with plenty of distance. "It's a bad book."

"Can it move on its own?" Weylan saw no movement from the thing.

"It moves only as long as no one is watching. It's very shy. But also, very evil. Bound in leather made from troll skin, written on Pergament made of human skin with ink made from the blood of goblins."

Stolen story; please report.

Weylan bowed down to look at the spine, but there was no inscription or marking at all. "What is it about?"

"No one knows, but the librarian. We're not supposed to touch or move it. If it's found, it's chained to the ground without touching it, until Eichenkiel comes to bring it back in its glass vault. I have no idea how it always manages to escape. Book-goblins are supposed to watch it constantly, so it can't move."

The book-goblin did not meet her eyes and fidgeted uncomfortably. "Maybe someone had to go to get snacks…"

"There are supposed to be always two of you watching." Stitch didn't sound angry, more like she hadn't expected that to work.

"Maybe other book-goblin needed to go to the outhouse. Very urgently."

The two left the book alone and continued on their way, not without noticing the three more book-goblins keeping watch while lying on the top of nearby shelves and from other side through holes made by removing books.

Weylan looked back over his shoulder. "Isn't that thing dangerous?"

Stitch shrugged. "Eichenkiel told me it isn't some reality shattering eldritch thing. It just tends to snack on other books. And curse the people who open it."

They turned a corner and saw the entrance to the library looming ahead. Moonlight streamed through the windows. Both stopped and glanced at each other awkwardly. They shifted, almost moving closer, maybe to hug, maybe even to kiss, and then froze. Neither could meet the other's eyes.

Weylan swallowed hard. "Well… that was a great time. Can I come back tomorrow after lessons?"

Stitch's face lit up. "Of course! Whenever you want! Anything special you're looking for?"

He shrugged. "Something on shadow magic would be great, but I've been told that's not likely to be here."

Her expression dimmed. "Aw… that's a pity. The only room where such things might be kept is the Room of Endings on the third floor. But it's only accessible to members of the Assassin's Guild. Eichenkiel always says it's the stupidest security design ever, since no assassin would willingly enter and announce their guild membership. The room's never been used, and even he can't remember the last time it was opened. But I'll try to find something else for you. Come by anytime!" She winked and darted away, powerful legs propelling her down the corridor.

Weylan watched her go, then turned to leave, only to find a group of book-goblins blocking the exit. He really needed to work on his situational awareness.

One goblin stepped forward. "You friend of Stitched One, you friend of book-goblins."

He smiled. "That's…"

Another goblin interrupted. "You break heart, book-goblins break bones. All of them."

The others nodded, and one held up a tome on human anatomy. "We have list! Break them in alphabetical order, we will."

His smile faltered. "Well… good to know you care about her."

They stared at him for a moment, then scurried off, leaving the way open.

He stepped outside, his thoughts racing. Should he have kissed Stitch? Hugged her? Said something else? And what about the Assassin's Archive? That security system made no sense… unless it was some kind of test. He'd have to sneak inside, past the book-goblins, maybe even through hidden wards.

But first, he'd need to scout the library's layout. Should he tell Stitch? If he did, he'd have to reveal his true class. If not, she could never find out… or she'd feel betrayed. He couldn't risk that. Maybe he should just ignore the stash of forbidden tomes. Information about the lost shadow magic of the assassins of the Cathurian Empire…

He sighed and looked up at the clear night sky, stars glittering overhead. Who was he kidding? He would absolutely try everything possible to get into that room.

* * *

Weylan wasn't the last to arrive at the dorm that night. Other students had dragged their celebrations well past midnight, and the echoes of their laughter still lingered faintly in the corridors.

His own room, however, carried a far less pleasant memory of the festivities. The stench of vomit hit him the moment he opened the door. In the middle of the floor lay Valen Aldrich, sprawled out in a most undignified heap, snoring and reeking of half-digested wine. Erik, their third roommate, slept on undisturbed, proof that he either had an iron stomach or was too drunk to care.

Weylan pinched his nose and muttered, "Tempting to see if your breath catches fire with a candle."

He cracked the window for some much-needed fresh air, then sighed at the mess. Pulling out his mana-focus, he let it hum to life. That artefact truly was worth its weight in gold. In a wash of light, the filth slowly but surely vanished.

Valen was left merely drunk, Erik was cleaned up for good measure, and soon the room no longer smelled like a brewery's gutter.

The timing, as always, was impeccable. The door creaked open and Darken stumbled inside, swaying like a donkey in a distillery. Weylan raised a finger in warning. "If you vomit on this again, I'll end you. The experience points will probably push me to the next level, so I won't even regret it."

Darken squinted, trying to focus on the finger. Then a lopsided grin spread across his face. He chuckled, mumbled something incoherent, and tottered over to his chest. After a clumsy rummage, he came up with a stoppered vial.

Weylan snatched it before it reached his lips. "Don't just swallow random potions while drunk. Let me see that." He read the label: "Counter Bite?"

Darken snickered at the name.

Weylan flipped it over to check the list of ingredients. "Vinegar of sour wine, ash of a burnt grapevine leaf, distillate of wormwood, dog hair steeped in peach schnapps… diluted one in a thousand." He frowned. "Sounds disgusting, but probably not lethal. Fine, bottoms up."

Darken plucked the vial back, popped the cork with his thumb, and downed the contents in a single gulp. He shuddered violently, then exhaled. His eyes cleared, his posture straightened, and just like that, the drunken haze was gone.

"Well," Darken said, voice crisp and steady, "that worked perfectly. I'm going to brew a lot more of this."

Weylan blinked. "You're sober? Instantly?"

"Almost like magic. More exactly… alchemy." He grinned. "I love this world."

Weylan gestured at the unconscious forms of Valen and Erik. "Any chance you've got more for those two?"

Darken shook his head, looking almost apologetic. "Not yet. But tomorrow, I'll make a batch. Next time there's a party, I'll sell it for a gold coin per vial. Guaranteed cure."

Weylan yawned, already halfway to his bed. "You do that. I'll stick to avoiding poison in the first place. Cheaper that way."

The pillow claimed him the instant he lay down, and the dorm finally grew quiet.