The events of the 1st of Obsidian, 1064
His counts down for the day, Glacies stood in the now-smoothed space designated for his grand library. His ledger was with him, seeming to be a part of his arm, and he made constant notes and sketches along the margins. Sometimes he would pace the length of the room, using his boots to pace off a rough length. Dwarves filed in, laying out chairs and tables into the alcoves, and though there was much stone littering the floor, a few coins greasing the right palms would ensure it was taken care of soon.
Bertrand was with him, his hand wrapped up tightly in rat weed bindings, and though it stank something awful, he insisted that a salve of his own making be applied under the bandages to the discomfort of those around. Dodik-Come-Lately was in the room as well, nearly spilling out of her new dress, and Glacies was constantly averting his eyes. One of them ought to have shame, he thought, and that would most likely be him.
"How comes the woodworks, Miss Tinbell?"
"Not as good as I'd hoped," she said, frowning. "We had less of the towercap logs than I thought, so..."
"So? So what does that give us."
"Twenty-six wooden bookshelves, all marked for decoration with gems, or bones, or both."
"That's it?"
"We ran out of wood!" she insisted. "These are all chairs, and tables, I purchased at my own expense. The dwarves brought more towercaps that we'll be setting in to, but until the next caravan arrives I doubt we'll have this area fully fleshed out."
"Do you hear that," Glacies called to Bertrand, "We ran out of logs! No more wood! We should have had a surplus!"
"Of course, of course," The philosopher mused. He stared down at his hand for a moment before lifting his head up, fixing the hordemaster with a watery stare. "That's not to say this room can't be put to use. My quarters are so cramped these days, so noisy, so hot. I suspect... that my research would be better spent down here, bookshelves or not. I could instruct Akroma to carry my tomes..."
He trailed off as he walked towards the door, wincing as he shook his pierced hand. Dodik and Glacies watched him go, but the book keep was cut off from what he was going to say by the Madam, her voice thick with confusion. "Why are the walls covered in pictures of Rice?"
"What?" Glacies blinked, and looked towards the alcoves. They were poorly lit, but the engravings could be made out if he focused on him. With budding confusion he saw she was right - nine out of ten engravings depicted an elated Rice surrounded by friends and well wishers, being raised onto a throne, or being toasted as he stood on the mess hall table.
"Isn't he dreamy?" A voice called from behind them.
They turned, seeing a dust covered Valania slink out from behind one of the ornate pillars. She had her stoneworkers belt slung low on her hip, and a chisel in her hand. "I've been instructed to give this room some class. The greatest leader of our history deserves praise, doesn't he?"
Glacies gaped at her, while Dodik asked in a small voice, "But what of Likot?"
"She's nice and all, of course" came the reply, "But she doesn't compare to Rice."
Valania left whistling tonelessly, leaving the pair dumbstruck. Glacies took a few steps towards the alcove to peer inside, unsurprised to see more works to Rice's majesty. One caught his eye, though, an engraving of Lucy in there barest wisps of clothing by Erith Othsindoren. She was sitting at her workbench, smiling as she held up a masterwork mechanism.
On the engraving, her eyes had been chiseled out, two rounded stones laying cracked on the floor.
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Topic: Migrursut: What Comes After The World Ends? [Epilogue] (A Community Fort) (Read 389400 times)