"What is this place?" Velra asked, her gaze drifting lazily across the vast room.
"It's the library," I replied.
One of the many spaces prepared within the Imperial Palace to accommodate visiting nobles and foreign guests—a resting library, in name at least.
In reality, it was enormous.
Rows upon rows of antique bookshelves stretched into the distance, their dark wood polished by time rather than care. The faint scent of old paper and dried ink hung in the air, thick enough to tickle my nose with every breath.
Velra reached out, plucking a random book from the shelf. She flipped through it once, twice.
Her brow furrowed.
"…This is magic theory," she said flatly. "But the level is uniformly terrible."
I shrugged. "Naturally. The truly valuable grimoires are kept in the First Library—or sealed in the treasury."
"Hmph." She slid the book back with obvious disinterest. "Then this place is nothing more than decoration."
