Translating the Manuscript

“May I see it?” you ask, reaching out to Byron with your delicate hand.

He smiles wistfully. “Of course. O, if only you could read it for me!”

And as you gaze upon the sheaf of papers, you realize that you can! Whatever Rialkin script is, you appear to be as aware of it as the un-sentient plant life of Zarklo IIV is unaware of anything at all.

Excitedly, you read the contents aloud to Byron, who gazes at you in raptures as you – evidently – clear his family name of the taint of scandal that has been wafting about his lineage much as the spores of the (entirely sentient) Blargkalian death-flower wafts around the swamps of Blargkalia for generations.

“O, dearest, loveliest of women!” Byron exclaims, when you have completed your stirring reading. “How may I ever repay you? For the horrible slander that has haunted my family has kept me from becoming a rich man, and my universely possessions are few indeed. But wait – I do have something to offer! Please, accept from me this strange and lovely key which has mysteriously come into my possession. Perhaps it will be of use to you!”

He hands you a large key, with a seal on it that echoes that of the second door, warm to the touch from being kept in the pocket of his fetchingly-tight trousers. Trousers of a tightness such that reveals Byron’s entirely evident state of excitement as he bashfully leans toward you and adds, “and perhaps, you will accept this, as well?” before covering your lips with his own in a passionate kiss.

O! How shall you respond?

1) Byron’s lips are as soft as they are full, and as inviting as the doorway of his library. You return his kiss with enthusiasm.

2) You don’t have time for the kisses of even the most handsome and ardent of librarians! Gently, but firmly, you tell Byron that you must continue on your quest to discover your identity.

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