The text was becoming difficult to make out in the fading light. Langston cast a wayward glance at his lantern, there was enough oil to last the hour, but not much longer than that. He rubbed his eyes lazily and began squinting at the page, trying to bring the hastily scrawled characters into focus. A few more pages and then he'd leave. Just a few more.
He hadn't expected to be here so long, but then again, he hadn't expected to find this place at all. A library inside of the dining room wall? It appeared the East Wing was full of surprises.
The light wavered once more and flickered out. Langston pipped in a small voice, "heh- oops..." realizing he had lingered too long. His eyes readjusted to the eerie purple lighting, it was possible to see the general shape of objects in the room, but not much else. Tiptoeing carefully about the scattered tomes, Langston began making his way towards the bookshelf. He walked alongside it, letting his tiny fingers graze the spine of each book. Though he had only found them today, he had already developed a peculiar fondness for the volumes lining the walls. They were antiques. So old that turning a page could pull it straight from its binding, so worn that it was difficult, sometimes impossible, to read the script on each page, and each individual book was so unique, so alien that the scribbled images evoked feelings of both fear and wonder.
Langston stopped at the end of row, leaning forward on the most distal aspect of his toe. He stretched out a skinny short arm, reaching for the top shelf. Using the his other hand to propel him upward, he grabbed the bottom corner of the aged tome and pulled. He eased himself onto the balls of his feet, allowing the book to tumble into his arms. He didn't want to return upstairs without something to read before bed and he had grown tired of his current selection.
The books in the attic were terribly dull. Fairy tales filled with dashing heroes, dastardly villains, benevolent gods, and... the same god damn plot. They were predictable, always ending in essentially the same way. Unimaginative and completely uninspired. Langston hugged the old book against his breast as he slowly made his way for the entrance. The stories within these books were unconventional. Some spoke of distant realms with strange gods and others told of magics unknown to mortal men. When there were characters, which was rare, they were never simply good or evil. All fell somewhere in between... or that was the general idea he had gotten from reading so far. The stories were fascinating, but reading them was a chore. The few books that were actually in common, or any language seen within the walls of Kragenau, were still a difficult read. Especially for a child.
Langston grunted, pulling down hard on the wall lever while balancing the heavy book on his hip. The hidden door retracted back into the floor revealing the adjacent dining room. Light illuminated the hidden library, temporarily blinding the boy. A frightened yelp sounded off from the other side of the entrance. Langston blinked furiously, but his vision remained unchanged. The large lumbering silhouette filled the entrance, and only exit, crying out in a mixture of primal fear and anger, "Juiniss' Silver Taint!" Langston gasped and let the tome slip from his grasp, allowing the pages to scatter around him. The voice exclaimed, "Wha- What is this place, and that awful noise? Langston?" The deep voice rumbled again, "Langston Thaddeus Devero!" The silhouette grabbed his collar, dragging him forcefully out of the room, "What are you doing in here? Huh?" The man slapped the startled boy across the face and boomed, "ANSWER ME"
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"ANSWER ME"
Langston woke with a start, covered head to toe in sweat. The sounds of conversation drifted from below,
"We have broached the subject on many occasions and we are demanding an answer. Stop. The nomination hinges on your abilities. Stop. So once again, I insist. Stop. ANSWER ME."
Langston sluggishly stood up and yawned. He slept for a few hours, but it still wasn't enough. He walked to the staircase and listened to his mother prattle on about the usual nonsense. She was always so loud when dictating,
'Good'
His mother would never send a telegram when entertaining guests so it was unlikely that there was anyone else in the house. Even so, Langston chose to proceed with caution. He slunk through the halls, taking a roundabout route to her office. It may be a longer trek, but few people used the halls in the North Wing of the manor, it was probably his safest bet for slipping by unnoticed.
When he arrived at her door he cracked it open and peered in. His mother was leaning against her desk with her back to the door, practically yelling at her transcriptonist and pounding her fist on the table's edge as she drove some point home. Langston went and stood on the opposite side of the desk, wincing as she let out a loud, strangely breathless laugh. Langston would normally never interrupt work, but he figured it would be okay this time. When her laughter finally died down to a faint wheeze Langston lightly tapped on the desk. She spun around immediately and came to sudden stop. She stood stupefied, hand on hip and her mouth agape.
"Sorry for interrupting mum. I just wanted to let you know that I'm back home."
She looked over at him, eyes glazed over, taking a few sharp breaths she managed to whisper his name before toppling over. Langston acted quickly, catching her under the arms to prevent her from hitting the floor. He held her awkwardly, trying to determine whether he should lower her to the ground or attempt to lift he... he instead settled for something in between.
Pounding feet could be heard from down the hall. The transcriptionist had screamed and bolted down the hall, so it wasn't too surprising that it caught someone's attention. His father threw open the door, bellowing his wife's name, stopping mid-word at the sight of his son. Langston tried to hoist her to her feet, but she was too heavy. Panicking he attempted to explain himself, "I- I don't know what's happened." He kept his eyes on her, "She just said my name and fell over, I didn't mean-" His father had moved and was now standing over him. Roughly he placed his hand under Langston's chin and tilted it upward, "Remember what I told you about eye contact? No one will ever hear you if you mumble at your feet, and not a soul will listen if you can't look them in the eye." He paused looking his son over. He moved his hand onto Langston's cheek and patted it fondly, "Now take a deep breath boy, everything is going to be alright."
He lifted his wife into his arms explaining, "Mum is going to be fine, I just have to get her to change out of this god forsaken dress. I swear she is squeezing the life out of herself. Damn corsets." After a brief pause he added, "I am going to tend to your mother in the sitting room, we can all talk after she wakes. I suggest you use the time to clean yourself up... we don't want that mug of yours to offset another fainting spell."
Langston nodded his head in agreement.
"Good. Well, get going. I'll have Natalie bring you a fresh set of clothes."
