Looking for the Librarian

Stealthily slipping through the corridor as easily as Caroline’s tongue had earlier slipped into your mouth, the two of you make your way to the Dashington Library – you leading, of course, by right of royal prerogative.

The library is well-appointed, with a shimmering holo-catalogue of available titles, low couches covered in green spayswurm hide, and a tasteful mosiac of the Duke frolicking in a forest clearing rendered in sparkling Jkellian crystal. It is not, however, as well-appointed as the librarian!

Byron Keates looks up from the sheaf of parchment he is inspecting at his desk, revealing himself to be a slender, dark-skinned man of about your height, with beguiling hazel eyes and a full, gentle mouth. His head is clean-shaven, a choice of which you approve, since it reveals an excellently shaped-skull. The only thing to mar this delightful image is the frown that creases Byron’s face – and this only serves to prove his intellectual fervour!

“We-” Caroline begins, but Byron holds up a well-manicured hand.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m afraid the library is closed, or I would be happy to assist you in any way I can. But as you can see, I am busily – yet pointlessly – perusing this parchment written in the ancient Rialkin script, which alas, I cannot read! The Duke is kind enough to allow me this hour every day to contemplate my wretched fate, which might be overcome by the secrets I am sure lie within this document if only I could translate it, which I can’t.” And he sighs deeply, a sigh that touches you deeply, as it speaks of the depths of despair!

What can you do?

1) As is happens, Rialkin is one of the ancient languages taught at the Royal Riadorfan Academy for Young Ladies Of Quality and Distinction, and you were reckoned to excel at this subject even by the exacting standards of that august institution! You offer to help Byron immediately.

2) You would be happy to assist any librarian, especially one as tragically gorgeous as this one, but you are uneasily aware that time presses! You make your excuses and seek out the opera diva.

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