Chapter 157 - 152: A Scholar’s First Morning
Golden sunlight filtered through the curtains of the Silver Stag, casting warm beams across the wooden floor.
John slowly opened his eyes.
For a brief moment, he simply stared at the unfamiliar ceiling.
Then it came back to him.
"...Valenor."
He sat up and stretched his arms. Unlike the rough campsites and roadside shelters they had used during their journey, the bed beneath him was surprisingly comfortable. The mattress was soft without sinking too deeply, and the blanket still carried the faint scent of lavender.
He smiled.
"I almost forgot what a proper bed feels like."
A gentle knock came from the door.
"John?"
It was Sylvara.
"Are you awake?"
"Yeah, give me a minute."
"I’ll wait downstairs."
After she walked away, John changed into a fresh set of clothes from his backpack. They were simple traveling clothes, but after washing the dust from them the previous evening, they looked much more presentable.
He looked at himself in the small mirror hanging beside the bed.
His black hair had grown slightly longer than when he first arrived in this world.
His shoulders had broadened from months of training.
His golden eyes—one of the few traits inherited from his dragon bloodline—seemed calmer than before.
When he first awakened as a young black dragon, those eyes had constantly reflected caution.
Now...
They carried quiet confidence.
Not arrogance.
Just experience.
"...I’ve changed."
The thought came naturally.
He wasn’t only stronger.
He was different.
The frightened hatchling who only thought about surviving had slowly become someone capable of trusting others.
Someone who had companions.
Someone with a destination.
---
Downstairs, the common room was already lively.
Morning sunlight poured through the large windows overlooking the street, illuminating polished wooden tables that had been filled with travelers enjoying breakfast.
Unlike the Crossroads Inn, where guests constantly came and went, the atmosphere here felt calmer.
More relaxed.
Many guests appeared to be staying in Valenor for several days rather than simply passing through.
Roland stood behind the counter speaking with one of the serving girls.
When he noticed John descending the stairs, he smiled warmly.
"Good morning."
"Did you sleep well?"
John nodded.
"Better than I expected."
Roland laughed.
"I’ll take that as a compliment."
"You should."
"I’ve slept in enough camps to appreciate a real bed."
"I hear that from adventurers almost every week."
John found the innkeeper easy to talk to.
There was something reassuring about him.
He reminded John a little of Elder Rowan.
Someone who had lived long enough to understand people.
---
Lythriel was already eating.
Three empty plates sat beside her.
John stopped walking.
"...How?"
She looked up innocently.
"What?"
"You’ve only been downstairs for ten minutes."
"So?"
"That’s three breakfasts."
"They were small."
Roland cleared his throat.
"They were normal-sized."
Sylvara covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.
Lythriel pointed her fork accusingly.
"I was hungry."
John sat across from her.
"I’m beginning to think your stomach has its own pocket dimension."
"It probably does."
Aerion, calmly sipping tea beside the window, added without looking up,
"I’ve considered that possibility."
Lythriel sighed dramatically.
"I can’t believe none of you are supporting me."
John smiled.
"We support you."
"Just not your appetite."
---
Breakfast soon arrived.
Fresh bread.
Scrambled eggs with herbs.
Roasted potatoes.
Thick slices of smoked ham.
A small bowl of seasonal fruit.
And, to John’s surprise...
Honey.
He looked at the small clay jar.
"...Honey?"
Roland noticed immediately.
"A local beekeeper delivers fresh honey every morning."
"We’re rather proud of it."
John spread a little across a warm slice of bread.
One bite later...
He understood.
"...That’s really good."
Lythriel pointed toward him.
"See?"
"I told you."
"You tell me that about every sweet food."
"Because I’m usually right."
---
As they ate, the inn gradually filled with more guests.
At a nearby table, two merchants quietly discussed shipping schedules along the Ardent River.
Near the fireplace, an elderly scholar carefully copied notes from one parchment onto another.
A pair of adventurers examined a city map while planning their next commission.
John found himself observing everyone.
Every person seemed to have somewhere important to be.
Every conversation hinted at another story.
Valenor truly felt alive.
---
Roland approached carrying a fresh pot of tea.
"So..."
"First visit to the capital?"
John nodded.
"It shows?"
Roland chuckled.
"Only because you’re looking at everything."
"I did the same thing when I first came here."
"You weren’t born in Valenor?"
"No."
"I’m from a farming village nearly two hundred miles south."
"What made you stay?"
Roland poured tea into Aerion’s cup before answering.
"Opportunity."
"I came here as a kitchen helper."
"Worked hard."
"Saved what I could."
"Eventually bought this inn from the previous owner."
John looked around the room.
"You built all this?"
Roland nodded proudly.
"It took twenty-three years."
John smiled.
"That’s impressive."
Roland shrugged modestly.
"Nothing worth having comes quickly."
Those words lingered in John’s thoughts.
Nothing worth having comes quickly.
It reminded him of Nathan back in Greenhollow.
Learning the sword.
One step at a time.
It reminded him of his own training.
Growth wasn’t measured in days.
It was measured in perseverance.
---
After breakfast, Roland wiped his hands on a towel before walking back toward their table.
"If you’re planning to explore today..."
"I can offer a little advice."
John listened attentively.
"The market district gets crowded around midday."
"So visit either early..."
"Or late afternoon."
He raised another finger.
"The Royal Library opens shortly after sunrise."
"If you want a quiet place..."
"Now is the perfect time."
John’s eyes lit up.
Lythriel immediately noticed.
"There it is."
"What?"
"That look again."
"What look?"
"The library look."
John laughed.
"I can’t help it."
Roland smiled knowingly.
"You wouldn’t be the first traveler to become lost among those shelves."
Aerion calmly set down his teacup.
"I once disappeared inside for four days."
Silence.
John blinked.
"...Four days?"
"I found an interesting historical collection."
Lythriel slowly turned toward him.
"You forgot to leave?"
"I remembered."
"I simply chose not to."
Roland burst into laughter.
"I believe every librarian still remembers that visit."
Even the Soul Raven gave what sounded suspiciously like an amused caw from its perch near the window.
---
Once breakfast ended, the group stepped outside.
The streets were already busier than they had been yesterday evening.
Shopkeepers opened shutters.
Bakers carried fresh bread onto display shelves.
Flower vendors arranged colorful bouquets beneath striped awnings.
City guards changed shifts at nearby intersections.
Everything moved with practiced rhythm.
John took a deep breath.
"So..."
"The Royal Library."
Lythriel stretched.
"I suppose we’re really doing this."
John smiled.
"You don’t sound excited."
"I’m curious."
"I’ve just never been excited about books."
Sylvara laughed softly.
"Maybe today will change your mind."
Lythriel looked doubtful.
"I wouldn’t bet on it."
Aerion began walking north.
"The Scholar’s District isn’t far."
The four companions followed the gently rising avenue toward the heart of Valenor.
High above the surrounding rooftops...
The elegant dome of the Royal Library slowly came into view.
Its white stone walls gleamed beneath the morning sun, while tall stained-glass windows reflected brilliant colors onto the streets below.
John instinctively slowed his pace.
Even from a distance...
He could feel his anticipation growing.
Somewhere inside that building...
Countless years of history waited to be discovered.
And perhaps...
Hidden among those endless shelves...
Lay the first real clue to the Dragon King’s forgotten past.
The closer they came to the Scholar’s District, the quieter the streets became.
The lively cries of merchants gradually faded into the distance, replaced by the gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional ringing of a bell from somewhere deeper within the district.
The roads themselves seemed different.
Instead of colorful market stalls lining the sidewalks, elegant stone buildings stood neatly arranged along broad avenues shaded by ancient oak trees.
Students carrying stacks of books hurried from one building to another.
Some wore simple robes, while others dressed like ordinary travelers.
A few stopped beneath the trees, discussing something while pointing at handwritten notes.
John couldn’t help noticing the atmosphere.
"No one’s shouting."
Lythriel looked around.
"You’re right."
"It feels..."
She searched for the word.
"...peaceful."
Aerion nodded.
"Knowledge thrives where there is patience."
"The kingdom intentionally keeps this district quiet."
John smiled faintly.
"I like it."
---
As they continued walking, they passed a large courtyard where dozens of young men and women practiced magic.
Unlike the combat training John had witnessed elsewhere, there were no explosions or destructive spells.
One student carefully levitated several feathers through a series of floating rings.
Another manipulated streams of water into delicate sculptures.
Nearby, an elderly instructor corrected the posture of a young mage struggling to maintain a small barrier.
Sylvara stopped to watch.
"They’re practicing control."
Aerion nodded approvingly.
"Power without control is dangerous."
John watched a student spend nearly five minutes trying to keep a single glowing orb suspended in the air.
The spell collapsed.
Instead of becoming frustrated, the student simply took a deep breath and tried again.
John smiled.
"It reminds me of learning to fly."
Lythriel glanced at him.
"You crashed a lot?"
"...More than I’d like to admit."
The memory made him laugh.
His first attempts as a young dragon had been... less than graceful.
---
A little farther ahead, they reached a circular plaza.
At its center stood a massive bronze statue of a man seated at a desk, a book resting upon his knees.
Unlike the heroic statues on the bridge, this one looked remarkably ordinary.
There was no sword.
No armor.
No crown.
Only a book and a thoughtful expression.
A stone plaque rested beneath the statue.
John stepped closer and read the inscription.
**"King Aldren III believed that a kingdom’s greatest treasure was not hidden beneath mountains of gold, but within minds willing to learn."**
John quietly reread the words.
Lythriel folded her arms.
"I’ve never heard of him."
"He ruled nearly four hundred years ago," Aerion explained.
"He expanded the Royal Library and made education available to common citizens."
John looked back at the statue.
"So he valued knowledge more than wealth."
"In many ways."
Aerion smiled.
"His policies shaped the Valenor we see today."
John nodded thoughtfully.
Perhaps that explained why the capital felt different from the other places they had visited.
There was pride here.
Not only in military strength or prosperity.
But in learning.
---
The Royal Library finally came into full view.
For several moments...
No one spoke.
The building was magnificent.
Its walls were built from polished white stone that seemed almost untouched by time.
Dozens of towering columns supported a grand entrance carved with intricate scenes from the kingdom’s history.
Heroes.
Scholars.
Farmers.
Craftsmen.
Kings.
All stood side by side, as though each had played an equal part in shaping the nation.
Above the entrance, enormous stained-glass windows depicted a rising sun illuminating an open book.
The colors shimmered brilliantly beneath the morning light.
John slowly exhaled.
"...It’s even bigger than I imagined."
Lythriel looked upward.
"How many books do you think are inside?"
Aerion answered calmly.
"Several hundred thousand."
Silence.
John blinked.
"...Several hundred thousand?"
"Approximately."
"I suddenly understand why you disappeared for four days."
Aerion’s lips curved into a small smile.
"It was a productive four days."
---
Wide stone steps led toward the entrance.
Scholars climbed them quietly, greeting one another with polite nods before disappearing through the great bronze doors.
No one hurried.
No one shouted.
Even visitors instinctively lowered their voices.
The atmosphere itself encouraged respect.
John found himself doing the same.
---
Two elderly librarians stood beside the entrance.
Rather than guards, they welcomed each visitor with warm smiles.
One of them adjusted his spectacles as the group approached.
"Good morning."
"First visit?"
John nodded.
"Yes."
"Welcome."
The librarian’s smile deepened.
"The Royal Library welcomes all who seek knowledge."
He reached beneath the desk beside him and produced four small wooden badges engraved with the image of an open book.
"Visitor badges."
"Please return them when you leave."
John accepted his carefully.
"Thank you."
The librarian studied him for a brief moment.
"You seem excited."
John laughed softly.
"Is it that obvious?"
"My dear boy..."
The old man chuckled.
"I’ve worked here for thirty-six years."
"I can always recognize someone entering a library for the first time."
Lythriel leaned toward Sylvara.
"...He’s smiling more than yesterday."
Sylvara giggled.
"I noticed."
John pretended not to hear them.
---
Before entering, another librarian approached carrying a stack of books nearly as tall as his chest.
He stumbled slightly.
Without hesitation, John stepped forward.
"Allow me."
Together they steadied the books before they could fall.
"Oh!"
The elderly librarian sighed with relief.
"Thank you."
"I fear these old knees aren’t what they once were."
John smiled.
"It was no trouble."
The librarian nodded gratefully.
"Kindness is always remembered within these halls."
He carefully adjusted the stack again.
"If you require assistance finding anything..."
"Please ask."
"That is what we are here for."
John bowed slightly.
"I will."
The old librarian disappeared through the doorway.
Lythriel watched him go before looking at John.
"You really can’t stop helping people, can you?"
John shrugged.
"He needed help."
"Simple as that."
Aerion smiled quietly.
"Never lose that habit."
---
John finally turned toward the massive bronze doors.
His hand rested against one of them.
The metal felt cool beneath his fingertips.
He hesitated.
Not because he was nervous.
Because he understood...
That stepping through these doors marked another beginning.
Until now...
His journey had been about surviving.
Growing stronger.
Meeting companions.
Exploring the world.
Today...
He would begin searching for its history.
For answers.
For truths that had remained hidden long before he was born.
He slowly pushed the door open.
Warm sunlight poured through towering windows inside the library.
The scent of old parchment and polished wood filled the air.
Towering bookshelves stretched farther than he could immediately see.
Spiral staircases wound upward toward additional floors lined with countless volumes.
Scholars quietly read at long wooden tables.
Librarians moved silently between shelves carrying neatly organized stacks of books.
Somewhere high above...
A great clock chimed softly.
John took one slow step inside.
His golden eyes widened with quiet wonder.
"...Amazing."
The adventure waiting beyond those shelves would not involve monsters or hidden ruins.
Instead...
It would begin with ink.
Paper.
And stories written centuries before his arrival.
Somewhere within this vast ocean of knowledge...
A forgotten page was waiting for him.
And neither John nor his companions realized...
That their search was about to attract the attention of someone who had been waiting for a dragon to walk through these doors for a very long time.
---
100 ps = 1 extra Chapter
200 ps = 2 Extra Chapter
1 Golden ticket = 3 Extra Chapter