"Let me out!" Libro slammed his fist against the stone wall. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to yell at you! It was an accident!" No answer came from beyond. The study was hauntingly silent save for the crackling fire nearby. Libro's heart fluttered in his chest, his thoughts nibbling away at him.

He really was trapped in here. The Empress had indeed left him to rot. He pounded his fist against the stone wall uselessly, before finally succumbing to the bitter realization. He slid down, feet scraping as he tucked himself against the floor, hands wrapped around his legs. Tears kissing down his cheeks. His body shook as he fought back against the hiccuping sobs.

And then the levee burst inside him, and Libro began to weep. He wailed into the open air, the chilling sound echoing in the snug room. He balled his fists up till the knuckles popped, till the pain became almost too much to stand.

"Damn it!" Libro screamed. "Damn it all!" It wasn't fair. None of it was. His entire life had been nothing but one bad deal after the other. His father's scorn. His fecked life as an orphan. Elena. Magus. The Empress.

Thinking about her only made the needles in his head dig deeper. For years he'd suffered through the worst atrocities the Milita Orphanarium threw at him, believing that it would all be worth it one day. To join the Vangen. To prove to everyone that the might of the Keevan Rahs still coursed through his veins. That the only reason the Empire even existed was because of his people standing with them against the Vostoch horde when no one else would.

Libro bit his lip until he tasted blood. And what had the Empress given him for all his hard work? Nothing, save for lies and broken promises. All his hard work, all his suffering, dashed upon the rocks like a ship in a storm.

He looked past his tears at the immaculate bookshelves before him, and a terrible thought crossed his mind. So the Empress wanted to lock him away for bad behavior? Fine, best to give her a damn good reason then.

Libro pulled himself up off the floor and grabbed hold of the desk chair with both hands. He lifted it up off the ground and smashed it against the wall in one swift motion. The wood cracked, splintering down the end. He swung again and broke the chair in two, throwing the pieces away in triumph.

He scooped up the quills and ink on the table next, hurdling the jars against the wall, the glass exploding brilliantly, leaving behind black smears dribbling to the floor. He stabbed the quills into the broken chair's plush leather, carved lines into the immaculate mahogany desk before tossing the crushed metal nibs into the fireplace.

But he wasn't satisfied yet. Picking up a chair leg, he clubbed the desk, swinging through the tears, screaming bloody murder as he envisioned the Empress's mask cracking with every blow. Damn her then! Damn her for rooting through his mind and plucking at his failures! For lying to him! For forcing Dux to arrest Magus! For all the trouble she'd caused them! Damn her to Gehenna!

The desk split against his assault, crumpling to the ground. He threw the chair leg into the air, careening into a chandelier. The crystal exploded, showering the room in glittering glass shards that tinkled down.

Libro turned on the bookcases next. He grabbed one and pushed. The whole thing came careening down, scattering books and other baubles across the floor. He moved in a whirl, his thoughts hot and red, burning in his mind. Reason and logic gave way to his anger as he ripped, grabbed, pulled, yanked. One by one, the bookcases were toppled over. Glass broke. Metal screamed. Leather-bound tomes thumped and bounced, scattering this way and that. Ink dripped from the mantle of the fireplace, hissing into the flames.

Libro grabbed the last bookcase and pulled. It didn't budge. He tried again and again, his frustration mounting with each failed attempt to bring down the damnable thing. Giving up, he turned to the books instead. He reached up and grabbed one. The book only came out halfway. From behind the door, there came a soft click.

The bookcase swung out gently before him. Cold air tickled Libro's nose, smelling stale and metallic. He sucked in a few breathes, the needling pain in his head finally dissipating. Slowly, the heat in his cheeks went away, leaving him hollow.

Realization came like a slap to the face. Libro looked on at the destruction he'd caused. The once plump desk chair now sat in ruins, the wood splintered, the leather torn to shreds. The desk looked just as beaten and broken beside it. Glass lay piled next to ink stains and books, their spines bent, pages ripped and frayed. The bookcases were scattered all across the floor, like the ruins of a once-mighty kingdom.

"What have I done?" Libro wiped his eyes, mourning at the once beautiful study, now ruined by his anger. No doubt he'd be executed for this. Destroying the previous Emperor's study was no trifling matter. Once the Empress found out, she'd kill him for sure. Maybe that was a good thing.

He turned his attention back to the surviving bookcase. A breeze trickled past, cooling the sweat that had lathered on his brow. There was something beyond, he realized, a way out perhaps. Curiosity overcame Libro as he moved the bookcase aside, revealing a darkened corridor. With soft steps, he slipped past, wondering where exactly he'd be taken.

He found out shortly. The corridor opened up into a room. Instead of books though, the walls were shelved with immaculate looking weapons of every variety. Silver etched swords sat nestled beside iron axes. Gleaming spears wrapped in colored leathers jutted out from every corner. Banners from a multitude of kingdoms, both old and new, stretched like tapestries across the walls. Brightly lit glass orbs floated lazily in the air, bouncing shadows up and down the room. It was a treasure trove, Libro realized. No doubt collected by the Emperor during his reign.

Libro studied the weapons on display. Most were made in the age of Antiquity, but a few still caught his eye. Snow iron weapons from the ancient barbarian hordes of far Aquilo. Bronze Aegyptian khopeshes. Eoruman arrows honed down to a razor-sharp edge. An impressive collection, Libro agreed as his eyes settled on the next piece. He stopped short, his gaze pulled towards the gauntlet hanging on display.

The forged metal was dark and nebulous, flecked with white like stars in the night sky. Star Steel. The same stuff that Regis's sword was made of. Large white iron rivets dotted the ribbed carapace, the leather cracked weathered from use. Libro couldn't pull his gaze away, as if the gauntlet was whispering for him to take it. He stepped away, only to feel himself being drawn back in. There was no use denying the avarice in his heart. He wanted the gauntlet. Deserved it. And it would be his.

Warily, Libro reached up and took the gauntlet from the wall mount, cradling it in his hands. The metal was cold to the touch and surprisingly light as well. Swiping his tongue over his lips, he slipped the gauntlet on. It fit perfectly.

Libro looked around, half expecting the Empress to burst out at any moment, screaming at him for stealing her husband's former belongings, but only the howl of silence called out to him. He wiggled his fingers in the gauntlet, appreciating the flexibility.

"When needs want," Libro muttered. He thought about how he would explain the acquisition of his new armor piece. He wasn't the best at lying, and making something up wasn't exactly his forte either. Better to tell the truth then and suffer whatever consequences that come with it. He turned his attention back to the weapons on display.

It was farther down that Libro noticed the most impressive weapon of them all. A ballista three times the size of any man stood before him on a stone dias. He ran a hand over the solid oak frame, the timber twice as thick as his arm, and reinforced with iron struts. Two massive loading arms protruded out from the sides like eagle wings, held taut with silk rope tied to the tension lock. Two wheel cranks were set on either side. A firing mallet leaning close by.

Libro couldn't help but whistle with respect. Siege weapons like this were hard to come by these days. A master of his craft had to have taken years to forge this beauty. Why the Old Emperor would hide something like this was beyond Libro's reasoning.

A set of ballista bolts were stacked close by. Standing near fifteen feet long, the bolt heads were twice the size of a closed fist, gleaming razor-sharp. The metal they were forged from was odd, though. It flashed a dusty yellow in the globe light. Too bright to be copper, but also too polished to be any sort of iron. It was only after a while that it finally dawned on him.

"Brass," Libro muttered to himself. He wiped a finger of dust off the metal, revealing his reflection. But why he wondered. As far as he knew, brass was an antiquity metal, outclassed by the discovery of iron used to this day. Perhaps that was why the Emperor kept it here. While impressive, the ballista was wholly useless now. A gift then, given by a wayward empire long ago. No doubt to slight the Emperor in some way. Libro had seen enough court intrigue to know that every word of praise spoke, and every gift given was marred with subtext in one way or another. It was one of the reasons why he disliked the nobility. No one ever spoke straight to you. Everything was a game.

Libro pushed the thought away, realizing that he still needed to find a way out. He lurked about the treasure room looking for any sign of a door or passageway out but found none. Whatever secrets he'd found then, there were none more to be had. Dejected, Libro skulked back out into the study.

He frowned down at the destruction he'd caused. Books and broken glass lay scattered amongst the toppled bookshelves. Most of the ink had dried by now. The fire had long since gone out.

Libro shook his head and ran a hand over his face. What a mess he'd caused. He stooped to pick up a book off the floor, wiping away an ink stain to reveal the gold letters beneath. What had his destruction been worth? A short-lived triumph against his injustice perhaps, but at the cost of so much beauty. His hand reflexively stroked the Archive's back, his once singular place of peace to turn too during his stint in Orienta.

The study had been the Emperor's place of peace once, just like his Archive. It was a place of peace, to reflect, A chance to relax by the fire, scribbling and studying the world's knowledge, or smiling proudly at his collection of ancient weapons.

And now it was gone. Ruined by Libro's own hands. Just like his Archive. He wondered then on what to do. What could he do? Salvage what was left, he supposed. He slid down to his knees, using his protected hand to brush away the glass to form a clean spot. Setting the book aside, he grabbed another and stacked it on top of the first.

And so he picked and stacked, organized, and cleaned as best he could. Some of the books were destroyed entirely, covered in ink, or with spines so damaged the papers had begun falling out. He gave them their own separate pile.

In time the study was brought back to a semblance of order. Most of the glass had been brushed off to one side. The surviving bookshelves put back into their place. Those that were broken were tossed aside. Stacks of books towered around the floor, separated by their salvageability. The desk and chair, however, were too far gone. Libro left them there, as a monument to his failure.

Sucking in a cold breath, Libro looked over his work. He had done enough. Saved what could be saved. Perhaps the Empress would be lenient on him since he'd tried to fix the destruction he'd caused, but he doubted it. The Empress was not known for her leniency in anything. No doubt he was a dead man now, but he just didn't care.

Libro turned towards the wall where the door had once been. He studied mortar, eyes tracing over every groove and mark. Stepping forward, he knocked gently on the stones using the gauntlet. The metal pinged in the still air.

"Let me out, please," Libro asked. And slowly, the stones began to part at his command, revealing the dark corridor from before. Without a second thought, Libro stepped through.