They left the hotel and walked in silence. The streets were very much alive, which surprised Silas. Despite all the reports of abductions and murders happening around the city, the bustling life seemed unaffected.
His eyes lingered on each restaurant they passed as they walked. Silas saw a restaurant specializing in seafood. Through the glass window, he spotted a steaming bowl of shellfish stew, the aroma tantalizing even from a distance. Next to that restaurant was a one-story building with a sign attached to a metal bracket, indicating it specialized in steak. The wafting smell coming from its chimney made his stomach rumble.
Perhaps it was because Finn noticed how Silas kept looking around at each restaurant, they passed that he finally spoke. "Those of us in the Lower Hill have no time to be afraid. We have to work our asses off, or we'll die of hunger."
Silas tried to open his mouth several times to say something, but he found himself remaining silent. Perhaps at that moment, the best reply was silence; there were situations where one's opinion didn't matter. Sometimes, people just wanted to vent, not hear an opposing view.
They arrived at the part of Tirash located on Arut's Hill, which Finn referred to as "Upper hill." In contrast to the Lower Hill, this place was empty except for the occasional Peacekeepers patrolling with their rifles. Looking closely, Silas noticed the absence of stray animals which were common in the Lower Hill. Not even a single lamppost was flickering unlike in the Lower Hill where he kept seeing flickering lights as if they were Christmas lights.
'Empty streets with lots of guards on patrol? What kind of joke is this? Shouldn't the guards be placed in the areas where abductions and murders are happening? It seemed protection was only for those who could afford it,' he thought with disappointment.
Blinded by the cascading light, Silas remembered the first night he had stood before the Great Archives' courtyard, the yellow light as overwhelming then as it was now. They went to the lobby and paid the receptionist a small fee in exchange for a marble tile. The tall doors creaked open as guards let them in. Except for the occasional scholars in their robes and members of the nobility in their bright-colored dresses and suits, the library looked empty.
"Where do we start?" Finn asked.
"First, let's go to where those chests are."
The quest told him he had to open at least five chests. But it clearly meant he wasn't limited to only five; if he failed to find what he was looking for after opening five chests, the quest would automatically restart. Those were the types of quests he hated, even back when he was playing the game in front of a computer screen.
He stood before the endless shelves of chests, each made of a different type of wood and as intricate as the last. He gulped and looked around. When he finally collected his thoughts, he picked the closest chest without much thought.
"Okay, I think we should start by trying to find something similar to the script we found on the parchment. It might give us clues on how to proceed."
The two agreed to search for clues separately. As he looked around, Silas decided it might be more fruitful to investigate large chests, thinking they would contain more items. But by his third chest, he realized he had made a wrong assumption. The bulky chests only contained broken lab equipment. 'Maybe I should try my luck with the smaller ones.'
But even the smaller chests proved themselves useless, containing smaller lab equipment or old papers bound with string. Skimming through the papers, he realized they were diaries and immediately shut them, feeling it was wrong to look through someone's life.
He thought it would have been easier if he could ask a librarian for help, but what he was doing was considered insolent, as Finn had called it. Still, Silas remained hopeful. He stopped and looked around. The Great Archives was a library; there might be some pattern in how the chests were arranged, and he had yet to discover it.
Moving to the next shelf, he explored a chest containing scrolls. His hands trembled as he skimmed through the content, only to realize the scrolls merely contained maps. He opened two more chests before moving to the next shelf.
"The chests here mainly contain crystals and gems of all sorts," he said, putting back a glinting obsidian on its box.
[You failed. Your chances have been reset.]
He failed on his second five attempts and had to start all over again. But Silas thought he finally grasped the pattern behind the shelves. Everything was sorted according to its content. If a chest on a shelf contained lab equipment, then all the chests on that shelf would contain lab equipment.
He knew he was close, and the realization made him excited. Silas proceeded to open several chests, each containing fragile scrolls. He also found twigs with colorful ribbons tied to them and bottles containing a material resembling soil. He wondered what their use was. Silas was in the middle of rummaging through a large chest when he heard someone shout at him from behind.
"What are you doing!"
His body trembled at the man's voice, and he felt his feet rooted to the spot. He heard the heavy sound of footsteps approaching his direction. He forced himself to turn. The man was at the other end of the shelf, his figure shrouded in shadows. The robes he wore made him appear sturdy and tall. Silas tried to see his face, but the darkness concealed it. Then the figure flickered and changed to a man he knew well—his father.
His father strode toward him with a cane in his hand. He raised it over his head and struck him. Silas couldn't move; he couldn't even raise his hand as his father struck him a second time, this time aiming for his head. Silas looked down and spat out blood. He put his hand in front of him, trembling, but knew he had to call on one of his spells, perhaps [Water Blessing], to escape. But before he could complete his concentration, a book flew towards his father's face.
"Old man, you know you could be behind bars for striking someone with a cane," Finn said. "And the law will not be lenient to you, having been charged with the same offense so many times. Haven't you learned your lesson?"