Dust swirled in the air, slipping into my nostrils as I stepped into the palace library. The damp smell mixed with the scent of aged paper greeted me roughly. Judging by the thick layer of dust covering everything, it was clear this room hadn't felt the touch of human hands in a long time.
"Ugh... ugh!" I coughed, trying to soothe the itch creeping into my throat. "Damn, people in this era must be really lazy when it comes to reading books."
My plan for this afternoon was simple: seek knowledge. After finishing the palace tour with Linnie, I decided to search for information about the culture, history, and magic of this world. Surely, something valuable was hidden among the piles of scrolls and ancient books left behind by those who came before.
My eyes swept across the room. The neatly lined shelves indeed housed books and scrolls, but their number was far less than I had imagined. Even a small library in a remote village in the modern era would have a larger collection than this.
"Not as much as I expected, huh."
While the shelves were clean, the dust on the floor and furniture betrayed the room's secret: it was rarely visited, perhaps only tended to once a year, if that.
Still, I thought, this wasn't entirely a bad thing. Spending just a little time here gave me a glimpse into the Norse culture, portrayed as ancient and traditional.
Fenrir wasn't with me this time. The girl had chosen to laze around in the room, eagerly awaiting dinner. I had even told her to eat my share since I wasn't feeling hungry.
Remembering her face, brimming with joy, made me smile unconsciously. That girl really loved food. Greedy might be a more fitting word. But behind her smile was a warmth I couldn't quite describe—a kind of gentle flutter in my chest every time I saw her happy.
I shook my head, trying to dismiss those thoughts. Focus. Back to the main mission.
My eyes scanned the room again, looking for a table and chair suitable for reading. Finding one in the corner, I quickly approached it. However, the moment my hand touched the table's surface, dust clung to my fingers.
"Ah, looks like I'll have to clean this first."
I reached into my pocket, pulling out a few feathers I always kept for moments like this. With a light touch, I transformed them into a duster and broom. At least one small benefit of this rune was its flexibility in creating various objects.
I began cleaning the room, sweeping away the dust from the table, chairs, and floor with care. The room might be small and simple, but I intended to turn it into a cozy spot to read all the books and scrolls available.
After finishing, I clapped my hands together, satisfied with the result. This palace library was no longer just a dusty old room but a small, inviting corner for delving into this world's knowledge.
With the cleaning done, I walked toward the shelves with excitement. My fingers brushed against the spines of books neatly lined up. Most covers were made of leather, hard and cracked with age, the letters on their surfaces fading away.
The ink used looked crude, likely a simple mix of natural materials that couldn't withstand the passage of time. Some books were even written by carving into thicker, stiffer paper.
Just looking at them was enough to reveal how primitive the technology of this era was. It was one of many reasons why literacy and writing developed so slowly in ancient times.
Other factors likely played a role, such as oral traditions being the primary teaching method or societal isolation when attempting to challenge deeply rooted customs. But the scarcity of books was probably a major reason for the slow progress of literacy, at least, that's what I believed.
Producing even a single book required considerable resources and effort. It took immense dedication to create one, something not everyone possessed. Not to mention the courage needed to defy societal constraints.
"Which one should I pick first?" I muttered, glancing left and right, feeling overwhelmed by the choices, despite their limited number.
In the end, I gave up on carefully selecting. In one swift motion, I began grabbing books at random from one shelf to another, piling them in my arms like a scholar gathering materials for research in a library.
Scrolls didn't escape my attention either. Regardless of their contents, if they looked old and potentially valuable, I grabbed them. Who knows, they might hold fascinating information within.
Once I felt I had enough a stack almost covering my face, I returned to the table I had cleaned earlier. With one shove of my foot, I dragged the table closer to the window, ensuring the soft afternoon light flooded my reading spot.
The pile of books and scrolls was spread out across the table. A light cloud of dust flew up as I dropped them. The books now lay scattered over the surface.
I pulled out one book from the top of the stack, a thick one with a leather cover that was peeling in places. There was a carved design, a complex circle in the center, though I couldn't tell if it was a symbol or just decorative. Carefully, I opened it, afraid the old pages might tear if I was too rough.
Every time my fingers turned a page, I felt something unfamiliar in the texture of the paper. It was very different from the smooth, thin paper of the modern era.
"A bit strange, isn't it?"
The writing inside was... well, almost unreadable. Faded ink, intricate script, and a different language made me squint as I tried to understand what was written. But I didn't give up. There was something compelling about these worn-out books, a sense of mystery waiting to be uncovered.
"Ah, this won't be easy," I muttered while glancing at another book in the pile.
Shifting from the first book, I picked up a scroll tied with a worn string. Its condition was better than the book earlier. The writing was slightly clearer, at least legible. Most of its contents seemed to be a list of spells or perhaps notes on specific rituals. I made a mental note to study it later.
My attention returned to the other books. A small book with a black cover caught my interest. I picked it up, feeling the rough and slightly greasy texture of the leather against my fingertips.
When I opened it, I realized the book was written in etched carvings. The engravings were shallow but clear enough to read even in the dim light. This book seemed like a copy of an important manuscript, perhaps made to last longer than ordinary ink.
"This reminds me of when I used to study and translate ancient manuscripts in my previous life as a human."
The book contained explanations about magical artifacts, from their materials to theories on their use. The writing was more technical compared to the other books, but I felt this would be very useful if I wanted to understand how magic worked in this world.
After finishing my examination, I placed it next to me, forming a small pile of books I deemed important. Meanwhile, books that were less interesting or harder to comprehend, I moved to the other side.
I reached for another scroll from the pile and untied the seal holding it. Its cover was dark brown, engraved with circular patterns at every corner. Opening the first page, I found a rough map of this world.
The illustrations weren't very clear and lacked accuracy compared to modern maps, but they were sufficient to provide a sense of key locations. Several crescent moons and stars were marked on it, perhaps symbols representing certain regions.
"This is interesting."
I let myself become absorbed in the ancient pages, turning them one by one and scrutinizing them with my obsidian eyes. A faint smile curled at the corner of my lips, a quiet joy etched onto my face.
Slowly, the sunlight streaming through the window turned golden, signaling that the afternoon was shifting toward dusk. I glanced left and right, looking for something that might help me once the sun completely set.
"Ah, there's an oil lamp over there."
A simple medium-sized oil lamp stood in one corner of the room. I walked over, picked it up, and lit it by striking a firestone against the lamp's wick, which was connected to the lamp's fuel.
Scratch.
The small flame came alive on the wick made of plant fibers. The faint scent of animal fat used as fuel wafted through the room, carried by a thin trail of smoke.
I was grateful I had once seen a Jotun light a similar oil lamp at night. I was also thankful for my raven's sharp memory, which had served me well, even though it had been a long time since that moment, two years ago, to be precise, back when I lived in the forest.
My kind has memories and reasoning far superior to other animals. I could even recall everything at a single glance, including the intricate patterns of magical circles.
In my previous life, some scientists had conducted studies on ravens, concluding that we possess exceptionally strong memories and intellectual abilities comparable to a seven-year-old human, a score similar to that of dolphins and primates.
I placed the lit oil lamp near me, hanging it on a nail driven into the wall by the reading table. Its light wasn't particularly bright, but with my sharp night vision, it was sufficient.
"Yosh, I think this will do."
Having prepared everything, I let myself sink into the chair and began to delve into the books and scrolls neatly stacked on the reading table. My eyes carefully scanned the faded writing etched onto the stiff, rough paper. With a determined heart, I was ready to uncover the knowledge hidden within each book I would read.