Chapter 16: The First Scroll

He began walking slowly along the high granite walls, inspecting them thoroughly.

"Twenty-foot wall," Silvester noted to himself. "No alarm spells on the surface. They can’t afford high-tier protective spells? Cheap."

There were four guards on the ground. They walked too slowly, and their armor squeaked because they hadn’t greased the shoulder joints.

He reached the alley behind the estate’s kitchen. Several feet away, he could see the stone room where he had been locked away for two years. He didn’t waste time dwelling on it and kept moving.

He hid in the thick patch of trees. There was a door nearby—the entrance the maids used to bring in firewood and food crates.

Silvester stepped up to a rusty lock.

The lock was an old four-pin iron mortise lock. The faceplate was pitted with corrosion, and the keyway was filled with dried dirt.

"Such a disgrace," Silvester whispered. "A noble family worth millions of gold coins, yet they secure their rear entry with this?"

He didn’t pull out his tools. Instead, he simply pressed his small right palm against the iron faceplate.

Locksmith’s Eye.

In his mind, the internal mechanism lit up like clear glass. He saw the four indented pins, loose springs, and the sliding latch holding the wooden frame.

Silvester sent a thin thread of pulsing golden mana directly through the keyway.

Click-clack.

The sliding latch slid back smoothly without making a sound.

Silvester gently pushed the hatch and listened attentively. From inside came the smell of coal and dish soap, along with the distant clatter of kitchen pots being washed.

He slipped through the small opening and pulled the hatch shut behind him until it clicked back into place.

The service corridors of the Lerwick mansion were still the same—narrow and dim, illuminated only by the faint glow of candles in the wall-mounted iron holders.

Silvester moved down the hall carefully. He used his Close skill on his boots to avoid making noise, silently passing pantry doors and laundry rooms.

He reached the grand central staircase leading up to the second floor.

Two house guards in iron armor holding halberds stood at the base of the staircase. They leaned against the wall, yawning loudly.

"Two more hours remaining before our shift ends," one guard said. "My feet are killing me."

"Keep your voice low and watch out," the second guard replied. "The Lord of Lerwick is in a terrible mood at the moment because the tax audit came late."

’The tax chest at the gate was for my father?’ Silvester thought.

"Fine. You should be the one who’s excited to go home. Your wife will make you scream again tonight, haha," the first guard teased.

"Tss."

He didn’t bother with their conversation, as it would distract him. Silvester used Close to lock the guards’ senses for two seconds and climbed up the carpeted stairs.

He reached the second-floor hallway. He saw the last door down the hall—his former room—but didn’t dwell on it. It wasn’t his objective. Turning his head away, he walked toward the east wing, where golden chandeliers hung under high ceilings and oil portraits of former Lerwick patriarchs lined the walls.

At the far end of the hall was the Lerwick Archives.

The library doors were made of solid, three-inch-thick dark oak, secured by a high-grade, six-pin brass mortise lock etched with a strong protective fire spell.

"Finally," Silvester murmured. He let a tiny smile touch his lips. "A lock that actually has a strong spell."

He used his Locksmith’s Eye.

The golden mana threads began to crawl toward the lock. They smoothly bypassed the physical lock and targeted the protective fire spell.

Open.

The spell runes aligned, and the mechanical lock moved.

The runes pulsed once with a faint red light and died. The six-pin lock disengaged with a satisfying thud.

Silvester turned the handle and pushed the oak door open enough for his small body to slip quietly inside the majestic room.

The air inside was warm and rich with the scent of old paper, leather bindings, mahogany wood, and candle wax.

Silvester pulled the oak door slowly behind him, hearing the latch click into place.

He was inside.

It was a two-story room lined with glossy dark mahogany bookshelves that stretched all the way up to a ceiling painted with murals of Fire Gods. Chandeliers hung from thick iron chains, with only a few candles lit, keeping the corners of the room warm.

Silvester stood quietly near the entrance door. He took a slow breath and let his dark eyes scan the room.

"At least they keep the bookshelves clean," Silvester whispered to himself, his voice barely audible in the vast silence. "Though placing candle sconces right next to shelves shows a complete lack of fire safety awareness."

He adjusted his coat and walked down the aisle toward the rare collections at the back of the room.

Silvester reached the far end of the library where the most valuable historical texts were kept.

In the center of the marble platform was a display cabinet made from ironwood and thick glass. Inside, resting on a red velvet cushion, sat an old rolled paper with a golden cord that kept the scroll closed.

Locksmith’s Eye.

The normal scroll began to change significantly. In his vision, it was surrounded by a thin layer of golden mana, which was exactly the same as his Master Key’s.

Silvester stepped up to the marble platform, his eyes lighting up with genuine excitement.

"There you are," Silvester said softly. "One of the two scrolls."

He looked at the lock securing the display case.

Unlike the cabinet latches outside, this lock was slightly better. It was a customized six-pin cylinder set directly into the frame. Around the keyhole was a faintly glowing blue rune meant to release an electric shock if anyone attempted to force it open.

Silvester leaned closer to inspect the blue rune with his Locksmith’s Eye.

"A level-three Lightning Spell," Silvester said in a dry tone. "Designed to discharge 100 volts of static electricity. It is genius for high-level security, but it’s not enough for me."

His golden mana threads started to do their job. They crawled into the keyhole and formed a shape like a pin, bypassing the lightning spell.

SNAP-CLACK.

The faint blue spell rune flickered once and died. The silver latch opened with a metallic thud.

Silvester gently lifted the leaded glass lid and reached for the scroll with both hands.

The ancient scroll was light and felt smooth against his fingers.

He set the scroll down on the nearby oak reading desk. He pulled out his Ever Burn lantern and started to read the contents.

There were no specific details about the key. Instead, it was a blueprint of a cathedral-like gate covered in chains. The gate had no lock, and in the middle section was a sketch of his Master Key and another object.

"A padlock? So is this the key’s pair?" Silvester asked himself.

The dungeon he came from was depicted on the scroll. The entire floor was part of a machine he never knew existed. All of it was a time vault.

"Incredible! That is true craftsmanship."

He continued reading. At the bottom of the scroll was small writing from the ancient dwarves:

’Forged by the Gods of Heaven were the Master Key and The Ultimate Lock, blessed to protect us. They will forever lock the door. To protect us, the key and lock must t—’

"What next?! Where is the rest of the page?"

Silvester looked intently at the bottom of the scroll. It was torn, and the rest of the content was missing.