House Baltas organized an extravagant celebration following the hunting party's return, broadcasting their victory throughout Orem. They distributed food and drink citywide, while inside the castle, they prepared a sumptuous feast for the guardians.
Novan considered this display premature and excessive. Though unlikely, other beasts might still block intercity travel beyond the primate they'd eliminated. When he expressed this concern during the banquet, Izella erupted in laughter.
"Impossible! Such creatures don't appear in multiples. Besides, even if they did, it hardly matters."
Their reasoning prioritized announcing the reopening of trade routes. If another attack occurred, they would simply claim ignorance and dispatch another hunting party. For magic-wielding rulers, public trust provided a convenient luxury rather than a necessity. They governed through overwhelming power that could annihilate any rebellion, not through intangible elements like credibility.
"Why are our subjugation heroes hiding in such seclusion?"
Lord Lug interrupted their conversation, studying both Novan and Izella with half-lidded eyes.
"Father, please. Our guest simply worries excessively."
Hearing his daughter's explanation, Lug chuckled heartily, dismissing Novan's concerns as needless. Creatures of such strength, he explained, appeared once or twice yearly at most.
Upon reflection, this made sense. Beasts emerged more frequently in prosperous regions, but considering the continent broadly, how could Keorn have traveled alone if creatures capable of slaughtering guardians roamed this relatively remote area? What of ordinary travelers?
During their discussion, Izella excused herself to obtain refreshments. Alone with Novan, Lug offered his wine glass.
"More importantly, have a drink. What host fails to share at least one with his guest?"
Orem's spirits proved incomparably stronger than Murei's tavern beer. The burning throat sensation and potent aroma made Novan cough involuntarily.
"How amusing! You behave like someone unaccustomed to alcohol."
"This represents my first experience with such potent spirits."
Fortunately, a magic-user's resilient constitution resisted a few servings of strong liquor, allowing Novan to drink moderately without intoxication.
After several drinks, Lug inquired with narrowed eyes, "What opinion have you formed of Izella?"
This echoed Marvin's earlier question. Novan responded evenly: "I regard her as the lady of my host house."
"You harbor no romantic interest?"
"Truthfully, I do not."
Lug frowned slightly at this blunt response, but Novan offered no apology. He had never particularly favored Izella, and her behavior during the hunt had further diminished his regard. Clarity seemed preferable to creating misunderstandings through excessive politeness.
As expected, rather than expressing outrage, Lug sighed deeply. "What can be done? I had hoped you might develop affection for my daughter."
"Better matches await her."
"How frequently does one encounter someone of your caliber in such remote regions? Izella mentioned you showed no difficulty absorbing magical energy."
"Indeed. My abilities remain underdeveloped."
"I understood your magical capacity approximates Izella's. Are you suggesting my daughter lacks development?"
Faced with this awkward question, Novan maintained silence.
Lug continued in a regretful tone, "That's not incorrect. While Izella possessed promising innate qualities, her development stalled prematurely. She lacks sufficient capacity to maintain House Baltas leadership. Eventually, I must name Gilon—my other nephew whom you haven't met—as successor. Your union with Izella would eliminate this necessity—"
This explained Marvin's relief upon learning Novan's disinterest. Marriage to Izella would obstruct his brother's path to house leadership.
Less comprehensible was Lug's candor regarding such sensitive matters. Surely the house head remained sober?
Momentarily, noticing the calculating gaze assessing him, Novan understood Lug's strategy. He hoped to influence Novan through these revelations—either through guilt over causing someone's disinheritance through rejection, or through ambition to acquire this city through marriage.
Either motivation would suffice, so long as something persuaded him.
"I trust the lord will determine wisely."
Perceiving from this response that Novan had recognized and rejected his manipulation, Lug sighed more deeply than before.
"I see. Very well... Enjoy the celebration moderately. Inform me before departing our city."
Novan suppressed amusement when Lug transparently inquired about his departure immediately after learning his disinterest in marriage. Rather than anger, he found the lord's naked mercenary attitude entertaining.
As Lug prepared to leave, Novan seized the opportunity to address something that had puzzled him, approaching indirectly.
"My lord, one matter intrigues me."
"What is it?"
Despite Lug's evident irritation, Novan continued undeterred. "While utilizing the library, I wondered how you prevent book theft? They represent valuable assets, regardless of public interest."
"You're unaware? I assumed your knowledge explained your exclusive in-library reading."
When Novan shook his head in apparent confusion, Lug adopted a self-satisfied expression, seemingly eager to demonstrate superior knowledge to someone who had rejected his subtle proposition.
"The Sky Library dates from the imperial era. Unauthorized book removal triggers tremendous warning sounds. Withholding this information to observe embarrassment provided considerable entertainment."
"How might one obtain permission?"
"Who knows! Detailed library records vanished before our family acquired this city. Regardless, unauthorized removal merely activates alarms while functions like automatic book organization continue operating normally..."
Novan's eyes brightened as he listened, confirming what he had partially suspected.
The following morning, Novan proceeded directly to the library after breakfast, resuming his previous routine.
"Welcome, distinguished one."
The guard, now familiar with Novan's appearance, permitted entry without verifying his authorization.
Inside the first-floor lobby, the middle-aged librarian greeted him as usual. "Welcome, Sir Novan."
Novan laughed suddenly, realizing his profound inattentiveness. The evidence had been present from the beginning.
First, the form of address: "Sir Novan." No guardian or commoner in Orem used this title—they uniformly called him "distinguished one."
Additionally, the continuous observation while reading proved telling. Novan typically arrived after breakfast and departed only for dinner. Throughout these extended periods, the librarian never once visited facilities, consumed food, or even drank water—merely observing him.
While not impossible for an ordinary person, such behavior certainly seemed unusual. But Novan's absorption in reading had prevented him from noticing these anomalies.
"How do you know my name?"
At Novan's question, the librarian's deferential expression transformed into mischievous amusement.
"You've taken remarkably long to notice, unobservant one. Did you never inquire about me externally?"
"I haven't established sufficient relationships in this city for such conversations."
"Quite solitary, aren't you? Though this was evident from your perpetual immersion in literature."
Despite their conversational hierarchy suddenly inverting, the exchange felt strangely natural. The librarian chuckled, casually returning his book to its proper location.
"I learned your name from your entry permit. My vision extends throughout this library."
"What designation should I use for you, sir?"
"I am the Librarian. I never possessed a name, so address me accordingly."
"Very well, Elder Librarian."
"Your formality seems incongruous. You've been directing me continuously these past days."
"I never issued directions. Rather, you're currently doing so."
"Young one, determined to contest every statement!"
Despite his dismissive snort, the librarian's expression revealed enjoyment of this banter.
Seated across from the librarian, Novan inquired further about his identity. "Are you an imperial era magic-user, sir?"
"I never existed as human. Consider me a form of spirit—specifically, the library's spirit."
"A spirit..."
None of Novan's reading had addressed such entities comprehensively. He recalled only passing references to forest entities manipulating various spirit forms in the "World Tour Journal."
Recognizing Novan's limited knowledge, the librarian elaborated: "When a soul inhabits something living, it forms a living spirit; in something deceased, a death spirit; in something neither living nor dead, a nature spirit. The library constitutes my physical form. This appearance merely facilitates communication with users—comparable to a reflection upon water."
Upon hearing this, Novan instinctively reached toward the librarian's hand resting on the table. Indeed, his finger passed through it, connecting with the desk surface below as though nothing intervened.
The librarian frowned slightly. "Desist—that creates discomfort."
"My apologies."
Upon Novan's retraction and apology, the librarian's expression softened. "You cannot comprehend my frustration at being unable to exert direct force against trespassers. Otherwise, I would have punished every thief attempting to remove books..."
This explained the library's depleted collection despite the spirit's presence—he lacked physical capability against people, likely limited to manipulating books and maintaining the interior.
Novan nodded and pursued his curiosity. "Lord Baltas seemed unaware of your existence, Elder Librarian. Indeed, perhaps everyone utilizing this library..."
"Previously, no qualified individuals could perceive me. Approximately three millennia have elapsed since my last conversation. Even considering your 'magic-users' extended lifespans, sufficient time has passed that no records would survive... magic-users, indeed."
The librarian laughed as though the term itself contained some private absurdity.
Novan stared incredulously. After three thousand solitary years, this being had maintained a servile pretense and played elaborate games? What if Novan had abandoned his reading interest and never returned?
When asked this, the librarian dismissed the concern. "That outcome would have been acceptable. Unlike your kind, three millennia represents no unfathomable duration for me. Eventually, perhaps after several thousand years, another suitable individual would appear."
This response illuminated the profound difference between this spirit and humans. Like stones or rivers, millennia passed without tedium for such entities.
"Regarding qualifications," Novan continued, "what criteria apply?"
"My creator established parameters allowing only those whose form achieves specific completion levels to perceive me. You possess the highest completion among magic-users I've observed throughout three millennia."
"Form...?"
"What you term bloodline."
High bloodline completion—what could this signify?
Novan recalled Keorn's explanation: magic-users descended from divinities, with bloodline abilities representing characteristics inherited from their ancestors, the Prea deities.
This spirit was declaring that Novan stood closer to divinity than any magic-user observed across three thousand years.