Chapter 104: The Cocagne Affair (4)

Simon went to visit Fabliau’s Grand Library the next day.

It took boarding a clockwork-powered, smallboat-shaped golem with wings to travel from the royal castle to the city below, an experience he found rather pleasant.

The library itself was integrated into the country’s senate building, a massive, grandiose T-shaped marble edifice not far from the city’s central waterway. Ostentatious columns and golden statues—all of them golems ready to activate at the first sign of attack—lined its immense stairways while armored guards of the magisterium kept close watch on visitors.

“All books in the Queendom must have a copy in the library by Her Majesty’s decree,” the head librarian informed Simon as they walked through the archives, his retainers following closely behind him. “Our magical section is the most extensive on the continent.”

“It is well-furnished, I will concede,” Simon said. The library was beautifully made, with countless shelves rising under a soaring dome painted with pictures of stars and clouds. Though the Lighthouse’s library was bigger… “Can everyone freely access it? Even those on dangerous subjects like diabolism?”

“Indeed, though powerful spells prevent the books from being taken off the premises. The Queen believes restricting access to knowledge ensures mishaps and accidents, on top of fueling the illegal trafficking of dangerous magical artifacts.” The head librarian led them to a crossroad of bookshelves. “The diabolism and demonology section is on the left, the chronomancy one on the right.”

“Thank you kindly.” Simon already noticed that the latter wing was more furnished than the former. Demonbinding wasn’t nearly as popular in Cocagne as it was in Endymion. He turned to his retainers and put on his Scholar outfit. “Fetch me anything related to the Abyss, the Chronomicon’s author, Darkblooded individuals, and Visionaries. We have until the evening.”

They spent most of the day scrounging through the vast library, checking grimoires written in Cocagnian or ancient scripts—which his All-Seeing Perk let Simon translate—and various documents until the sun began to fade away.

All of that searching yielded few results.

Simon knew he would find less information on Visionaries than what the religious organization worshiping them could provide, but Cocagne’s archives provided little additional insight on the Abyss, Darkbloods, and time-travel; in fact, this library held many books that Simon had already found in the Lighthouse.

He did find a few interesting tidbits of information, though.

First of all, while rumors of gates to the Abyss existed since time immemorial, their existence apparently remained to be proven—according to academics who hadn’t visited the Lighthouse’s basement. Demons usually ‘slipped’ onto the material plane through miasma-dense areas like the Darkwood or when being summoned, but that was mostly due to their spiritual nature.

However, there were other roads to hell.

The first and most ‘common’ way to visit the Abyss was through astral projection, a practice which allowed spellcasters to project souls into the borderland separating the Abyss’ depths from the material plane and contact demons there. It was a fantastically dangerous endeavor, and many would-be diabolists never woke up from this spiritual trip, but it was easier and less threatening than physical travel.

Otherwise, extremely powerful demons could open brief portals to the Abyss, often nicknamed ‘hellmouths,’ though those required much energy and rarely remained stable for more than a few minutes or hours. Almost all tales of people physically visiting the abyssal borderland involved one such demonic ferryman. High-Tier spells could also achieve a similar effect.

Meredith also found a book detailing Maximilien Nocte’s attempt at physical time-travel. After having gone mad from his research, the archmage had besieged a small, isolated manatree in what would become the Berwick Islands with a small army of clockwork golems, summoned demons, contracted undead, and even a dragon. His troops wiped out the elven community there, then attempted to drain the local dryad to fuel the equivalent of a Tier X spell.

He failed.

All that Maximilien managed to do was to freeze time in a vast area around the manatree, at which point he lost control of the energies at play and caused them to implode, sucking everything into a planar rift that then violently detonated. Locals could see the blast from miles away.

Obviously, nobody tried to repeat or complete his work after this disastrous failure, though the archmage apparently left notes on his final spell that an early Mage recovered. Maybe Remedia knew about those.

Their search was otherwise disappointing. They found nothing on the Abyss’ deeper layers, nothing more on time-travel that Simon hadn’t already gathered from the Lighthouse, and no insight on diabolism that Duchar didn’t already cover. The library contained surface-level information when he required expertise.

Studying the books did let him increase his Scholar level, though, so it wasn’t an entire waste of time.

Level 3 Scholar Perk: Craft Arcane Scripts I (Passive): You can craft arcane scripts involved in the creation of magical scrolls, grimoires, or similar works up to D Quality or below.

Level 5 Scholar Perk: Cryptography I (Passive): You can instantly notice the presence of hidden patterns in texts, such as codes or repetitions, though this does not help you understand them.

Simon had to admit he wasn’t sure what to make of Scholar Perks. On one hand, he did feel a slight improvement in his reading speed and memorization.

On the other hand, he only felt their full power when donning his Scholar Class outfit, and the boost wasn’t really game-changing. It was nice to have for certain, but not worth devouring the Crestone.

I think it might be good to confiscate Lorimor’s Crestone in reigns where I have to do research on my own, Simon thought. He had mostly left the Crestone in the man’s hand because it was easier to have a retainer do the grunt work while he focused on more important things, but some of his latest loops focused on solitary infiltrations with a limited retinue. It would be good to see if I have to grind back those Scholar levels too.

“I’m disappointed,” Simon admitted once they had to leave the place. “I would have thought a library of this size would contain more than surface-level information.”

“I have questioned other scholars about that,” Meredith said. “They informed me that while the Queen indeed decreed that all books in her nation be copied here, all noble houses jealously hoard their private collections of secret lore, including unique spells and knowledge.”

“That makes sense,” Leonard noted. “In a realm where magic is law, spell knowledge is a weapon and a competitive edge.”

“I was told the families regularly try to rob each other’s libraries or destroy them through mercenaries and deniable assets,” Meredith mused. “It is such an integral part of this nation’s political life that they call it the Biblioclastic War, or the Bookwar.”

“Perhaps we should hire ourselves out as thieves,” Simon mused. He wondered if the Cobweb took any part in this conflict, or even if they were active in the region. “Either way, we are done for the evening. You are dismissed.”

Meredith froze in place. “Dismissed?”

“Your Highness, I hope you are not suggesting we leave you alone at night in a foreign city,” Leonard said.

“I have a private meeting to attend to,” Simon replied. Even Norbelle thinks they won’t come out if I have an escort. “Take the flying boat and return to the palace. I will find my way up.”

“But Your Highness–” Meredith insisted.

“Nothing will happen to me, or to you,” Simon reassured them, showing them a small crystal in his pocket. “Norbelle gave me a teleportation gem in case I have to retreat to safety.”

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His retainers exchanged wary glances and didn’t look very pleased, but they eventually acquiesced. Simon then walked away from the senate building, looking around as he did. Cocagne was quite the elegant city, although lacking in vegetation besides the occasional private garden or potted plants. The streets were made of granite or white stone like the royal palace, the houses built so closely together that some leaned upon one another in the shadow of four or five-story buildings. Locals mostly used the canals to travel around instead of horses or carriages, with Simon spotting ferrymen bringing couples or travelers across one district to the next.

The address he found in his Thoughts on Mortality book led him to a nondescript, two-floor house stuck between two others inside a narrow street. Not a soul seemed to live in the area, and the door was unlocked. Simon opened it to find himself staring at an empty front room.

Trap, Simon confirmed. He pulled up his sleeve and looked at the two tattoos placed on his skin by Norbelle: one shaped like an azure dragon, the other like a vermillion bird. He pressed his fingers on them and felt power coursing through his veins.

Azulbolla granted you his blessing! All your stats have been buffed, your resistance to Lightning and Wood has been improved, and you are now immune to critical hits!

Phoenix granted you his blessing! You gain immunity to Fire, receive double the healing from spells and magical effects, and the Aureole status!

How good it felt to gain an immunity to Fire without relying on a cursed ring.

Norbelle had decided against accompanying him because she had ‘better things to do’ and because assassins likely wouldn’t dare to strike if she was with Simon, but she did give him a few boons for his trouble. “Bring one of them back alive for interrogation, please,” she had said before he left the palace. “We need proof in this country before we can execute people. Truly an inefficient legal system if you ask me.”

Simon took a deep breath, cast a handful of buffs—from Shadowshield to Lightspeed—and looked up to the sky. “I know you are watching this,” he said. “I hope you enjoy what you see.”

He walked inside and closed the door behind him.

It would have been very easy to summon imps and have them scout the area, but Simon knew those critters would mess up somehow and he wanted his foes to underestimate him. He looked around, finding a well-stocked pantry and a study showing a bunch of innocuous tax documents. He eventually made his way to a salon with two large sofas facing a stairway and a fireplace.

Simon heard a creaking noise and turned, relaxing when he noticed it was a rat looking at him from a corner of the room.

“Ah, don’t scare me like that.” Simon leaned toward the vermin. “Where did your master put his assassins?”

The rat’s head perked up, its eyes widening in fear. “How do you–”