As the knight strolled through the expansive corridors of the Great Barnachia Library, he inhaled the redolence unique to the written tomes. The grand library, a testament of time enduring, comprised five majestic tiers, upheld by colossal pillars hewn from marble. Its eastern and western walls, embellished with ornate mosaic glass, admitted an eternal influx of daylight from above. On sunlit days, at the stroke of noon, the central hall would effervesce and emanate luminosity, akin to a hallowed sanctuary.
As they entered, the imposing figure of Scribe Perowa, the custodian of the library, greeted them with a combination of deference towards Caleb and disdainful glances directed at Knight Silverhilt.
Led by Caleb's guidance, the duo ascended to the elevated realm of the third floor. With a flourish, the young sorcerer unveiled an intricately carved door, uttering, "Welcome to our humble sanctum, the Scholars' Lounge, the private study room of Master David. May it meet your discerning expectations."
Brad swiftly surveyed the chamber, divided into three sections, each possessing its own distinct character. In the heart of the room stood a grand balcony, its splendor evident to all who beheld it.
The eastern and western wings boasted finely crafted round tables, symbols of intellectual discourse and camaraderie. Meanwhile, the balcony section beckoned with its inviting array of meticulously arranged floor cushions, inviting guests to recline and engage in profound contemplation.
The air within the chamber carried a captivating aroma, woven by the ethereal wisps emanating from the petite cast iron braziers adorning each segment. Although the scent evoked faint recollections within Brad's mind, its elusive origin remained just beyond his grasp.
"Have you ever delved into the practice of meditation?" Caleb inquired, gracefully lowering himself onto the plush floor cushions and extending an inviting gesture for Brad to join him.
"Nay," Brad curtly responded, his restless steps persisting throughout the room. The sorcerer's offer to sit had been declined. "Are we not here for scholarly pursuits?" he impatiently pressed.
"Aye, indeed. Our purpose lies therein," Caleb casually replied.
"I spy no tomes within this chamber. Must we await the scribe's delivery?" Brad queried anew.
"A skeptic thou art, Sir Knight. Verily, I commend thy disposition," Caleb commented, a smile gracing his features. "Allow me to expound, for we have journeyed hither to establish communion with Ilberius."
"So, we await the arrival of Ilberius."
"Nay, we must seek him out, for he shall not come to us."
"I discern not. Thy words bear an enigmatic shroud," Brad cautioned, his tone turning stern.
The halfling wizard chortled with an air of nonchalance. "Ilberius, a being of ethereal essence, resides beyond the reach of conventional means in this realm," he replied.
With a voice as biting as a winter gale, Brad interrogated, "Do you truly expect me to embrace the sheer preposterousness of this tale concerning the library's ethereal essence?"
"Indeed. However, it seems you, in some manner, have also stumbled upon its whispered cadence. Do you not yearn to uncover the verity?"
"Very well, Caleb. Share your rendition then. Considering your perspective, time appears to be in abundance," Brad jabbed at him with his words.
"So be it. Since you insist with fervor, I shall indulge you," Caleb responded, his voice filled with a solemn resonance. He delved deeper, "Legend has it that in a time long past, when this bastion of knowledge was first forged, a formidable enchanter emerged from the realms; Orthai's lineage yielded the mighty Ilberius. Drawn to this sanctuary, he beseeched Terentius, the enigmatic shaman entrusted with the solitary custodianship of the sacred wisdom contained within these hallowed walls, imploring him for the enigma of immortality. Nay, he dared to aspire to ascend the echelons of the divine pantheon."
Caleb breathed heavily and continued his story;
"Alas, Terentius guffawed, scorning his audacity. Such scorn stirred the ire within Ilberius, and in a frenzied fury, he unleashed a cataclysmic onslaught upon the shaman. Teetering on the precipice of oblivion, Terentius uttered these words, 'Once, I too, akin to your plight. Blinded by ambition, craving the elixir of power. Yet, when realization dawned upon me, that the cradle of veritable wisdom lies sheltered within these sacred tomes, I relinquished my wanderings. Beware, for your fate shall be far grimmer than mine,' he cursed before surrendering to the clutches of death."
Caleb showed around.
"Since that fateful hour, Ilberius never strayed from this realm. And for his refusal to succeed Terentius as the protector of this library, the gods commanded that his spirit be forever imprisoned amidst these very ramparts. Some invoke his name as the Cursed Spirit of the Tomes, while others revere him as the Divine Patron of Libraries."
"Very well, then summon forth Ilberius, and let our words intertwine," Brad declared, his words laced with a touch of disdain for the wizard's narrative.
"Alas, such an endeavor eludes us. It is we who must seek him out, and only if he deems us worthy shall he respond," Caleb lamented.
"Then let us embark on a quest to find him. Can you not employ the art of magic to unveil his whereabouts?" Brad inquired.
"Ah, therein lies the enigma. There exists but a solitary incantation, capable of bridging the chasm between mortal realms and the extraordinary essence of Ilberius," Caleb responded.
"Very well, I comprehend. You shall weave that spell upon me as well. Pray, elucidate swiftly, for patience wears thin, O wizard," Brad's impatience surged.
Though Caleb's countenance momentarily dimmed, the radiance of his jovial visage swiftly returned. He rose gracefully, unlocking the cabinet nestled within the eastern wing. Delicately, he retrieved a diminutive statuette fashioned in the likeness of a draconic creature and brought it forth. From his pocket, he produced an incense stick, its fragrant tendrils weaving a tapestry of smoky allure reminiscent of crackling bonfires.
"And what, pray tell, is this incense stick?" Brad inquired, taking his place beside Caleb. Grasping the fragrant offering, he lifted it to his nostrils, recognizing the scent that embraced him.
"This is the catalyst for the enchantment that shall transport us unto Ilberius. As for the dragon figurine, it serves naught but to stoke the flames of my resolve. A mere trinket, if you will," Caleb elucidated.
"And I trust you shall not inform me that this incense bears the essence of Averan powder, Caleb?" Brad inquired, his gaze piercing, demanding an honest answer.
"Very well, I comprehend your point. Your esteemed commander-in-chief may have interdicted the utilization of this herb, yet there exists no viable alternative. Moreover, the dosage is modest, a unique concoction of utmost reliability. I assure you," Brad rose abruptly, driven by a sense of urgency.
"No, this path is untenable. I have undergone the rigorous training of the temple knights, familiar with the potential effects this powder can wield," he countered.
"Indeed, the Averan powder-coated incense shall initiate a fleeting astral sojourn for you. However, its influence shall be confined solely to the library's precincts. Fear not, for at this dosage, peril is negligible. Our physical forms shall remain secure within these chamber walls. Furthermore, I possess profound experience in these matters and shall act as your sagacious guide. I also venture an educated conjecture regarding Ilberius's whereabouts," Caleb endeavored to persuade him.
"Why do you not engage in solitary discourse with Ilberius?" Brad inquired.
"For you are the one who witnessed the unfolding events firsthand. Ilberius rebuffs the words of indirect narrators. His responses bear fruit when posed by those who have experienced the veracity. I have personally conducted experiments to affirm this. Place your trust in my expertise," Caleb expounded.
"How protracted shall this endeavor be?" Brad questioned.
Caleb retrieved a diminutive hourglass from the recesses of his robe, promptly inverting it. "Before the last grain descends, our return shall be accomplished," he reassured. "You reposed your faith in Lady Illaine, and she, in turn, bestowed hers upon Master David. And it is Master David who entrusts me, your valiant knight, with the mantle of guidance. Are you prepared or shall hesitation overtake you?"
"Then, without delay, kindle the incense before my resolve wavers," Brad said, resuming his seat, his tone tinged with wavering determination.
Caleb swiftly surged into motion, his incantation evoking a conflagration within the dragon figurine's maw, nestled meticulously. Gradually, sinuous tendrils of smoke commenced their ethereal dance, gracefully spiraling forth.
"And now, what shall transpire?" Brad inquired, his voice laced with anticipation.
"Close thine eyes, draw in a breath profound. Forthwith, the dragon shall exhale its breath," Caleb directed, dutifully adhering to Brad's entreaty. With deft hands, he extracted the incense from the figurine's mouth and brought it nearer to the visage of the valiant knight.