The remaining session for the support-oriented heroes took some time to finish. There, they were taught battlefield awareness—how to read the flow of combat, how to position themselves, when to deploy spells, barriers, or disruptive magic. It was theory-heavy, but necessary.
Louis listened.
Not because he found it fascinating, but because he understood something simple now: ignorance here could get him killed.
When the lecture ended and the group began to disperse, exhaustion settled into his bones. Without lingering, he retreated from the others, letting the noise fade behind him.
He didn't return to his room.
Instead, he found himself walking the corridors of the palace again—this time with a destination in mind.
The imperial library.
At least, that was the intention.
After several turns and a few minutes of walking, Louis stopped and looked around. The halls were wide, polished, and far too similar. Servants passed by, knights moved in steady patrols, but none of it helped him tell whether he was getting closer or farther away.
He exhaled quietly.
So much for confidence.
Spotting a knight standing guard near one of the intersections, Louis approached and asked for directions to the library. The knight listened, then calmly pointed him down one corridor, adding a few concise instructions—straight ahead, two turns, then the large doors.
Louis thanked him and followed the directions exactly.
When he reached the doors and pushed them open, he froze.
The space beyond was immense.
Shelves stretched outward in every direction, rising across multiple levels. Staircases were built directly into the structure, narrow walkways connecting upper floors like veins through a living body. Books filled every available space—ancient tomes, sealed volumes, enchanted texts suspended faintly in the air.
This wasn't just a library.
It was a record of conquered kingdoms, absorbed cultures, preserved knowledge.
An imperial library, in the truest sense.
Louis stepped inside, the doors closing softly behind him, and allowed himself a moment to simply stare. The scale alone was overwhelming.
Only after a few breaths did he remind himself why he was here.
Scanning the area, his gaze eventually landed on someone near the central shelves.
A woman stood there, focused entirely on the books before her. Her dark green hair fell straight to her shoulders, framing a calm, unreadable expression. She was tall—surprisingly so—standing with an ease that suggested confidence rather than self-consciousness. When she shifted, the light caught her eyes, revealing a deep yellow-gold that stood out sharply against the muted colors of the library.
She looked like she belonged here.
Louis approached and asked, politely, where he could find introductory material on druidic paths and natural magic theory.
She didn't respond immediately.
For a moment, she simply straightened, as if acknowledging his presence without interest. Then she turned and moved without a word.
She climbed the built-in stairs along the shelf, steps light and practiced. As she ascended, Louis instinctively looked away, turning his face aside—not out of embarrassment, but simple courtesy. He reminded himself, firmly, to focus on why he was here.
Moments later, she returned.
Several books were stacked neatly in her arms. She descended, placed them into Louis's hands one after another, the weight forcing him to adjust his grip.
"That should be enough to start," she said, her tone even and distant.
Only then did she glance at him—briefly, critically, as if measuring something she didn't quite approve of.
Before he could say anything else, she turned back to her shelves, already absorbed once more in her work.
Louis stood there for a second, books held tightly against his chest.
So that was how this place worked.