The morning proceeded like any other day. Servants came to the kitchen a little before sunrise to prepare breakfast, and I helped with the trays. The maids would grab a bite here and there because there was not a separated time for our own breakfast.

  Winter just came, grabbed the tray destined for Allan, and left, avoiding any interaction. That was her usual demeanor with the servants. If that helped avoid trouble or just widened the rift between her and the others was difficult to say.

  The servants of the castle were exclusively women and had their own caste system that run deeper than any division of jobs or rank.

  At the bottom stood the general slaves, most that were descendants from the first slaves assigned to the castle at the end of the early age of the Old Empire. They were not allowed to deny any order, including “entertaining guests” or other “special assignments” that sometimes lead to pregnancy.

  Boys would later be assigned to jobs outside the castle in the stables, forges or barracks, with some gifted ones being singled out to receive further education and work in the administration. Girls would be trained as servants of the castle, with a few being selected as personal servants or concubines of important nobles. If any children were particularly intelligent or had a strong affinity to magic, he or she could be seconded to the Academy or the Guild, but that was uncommon.

  The middle tier was composed of commoners that worked at the castle for a salary. The number varied greatly; sometimes, there would be just a few, other times more than double the slaves. Right now, the number of commoners and slaves was basically the same. They ranked higher than the slaves and would not be called for “special assignments”, but their job was basically the same.

  And at the top, there were the minor nobles sent to the castle by their families to improve connections or arrange an advantageous marriage. They always started in a higher position, in a job they had no experience, commitment or affinity, and rarely stayed more than a couple of years. Every time we heard a new one would arrive, there was a collective sigh from slaves and commoners alike.

  Personal servants stood in a strange position. We were slaves, but our closeness with our masters sometimes gave us influence that was greater than even the nobles. It all depended on how our relationship with our masters were perceived. Winter's relationship with Allan was notoriously bad, so that put her in a very vulnerable position. My relationship with Uther was regarded as very close, and that I could count on his protection if they tried something with me.

  Most of the time the servants simply worked in monotonous efficiency and good humor, but there were moments of pettiness, cruelty and betrayal that could rival the worst intrigue from the nobles.

  I took the tray destined for Uther and went to his bedroom.

  There was always a little fight for me to get him out of bed, but that was something so routine that I did it without any conscious thought. During his meal, we discussed the request from Allan and other topics about the week’s schedule.

  After that, we spent some quality time together. I had been afraid that what happened to me would alter our relationship, but at least finding me desirable remained unchanged. That made me feel happy and relieved, and I carried those feelings the rest of my day.

  ***

  I entered the Royal Archive carrying a bucket, cleaning rags and a dust mop. The person at the counter, the Grand Archivist, a grizzled man with glasses and a stern expression, ignored my intrusion as he kept reading a book.

  Of the three libraries of the Capital, the Royal Archive was the largest, a maze of shelves and piles of books that carried the weight of all the knowledge generated by the Old Empire.

  The fact that most of the time it was empty puzzled me. I did everything in my power to come here, even volunteering to clean all this alone, what I did twice a week in the afternoons.

  I was never a genius, and my drive was not some unquenchable curiosity or love for books. I was just a young slave girl that realized that being passably knowledgeable and having a decent set of useful skills would give me a better future prospect than being sold to a brothel or as a disposable concubine.

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  My reasoning was simple: Skilled slaves were more expensive, and people took better care of expensive things.

  I think that was what singled me out to the Queen, because the school I was raised in had girls that were way prettier or with more charming personalities.

  But something so important as the Royal Archive was not open to just anyone, in special it was not open to unvouched castle servants.

  I used to come here using Uther as an excuse, but I could not use that pretext anymore. I was probably at a better standing with the Grand Archivist as a nosy servant than him at that moment.

  Uther was interested in finding an old ruin and needed to translate a book from the restricted section of the archive, what would have been a simple matter, but because “filling all the paperwork to request the book will take too much time and nobody will notice it missing for a couple of months”, leading to a statewide investigation, an Academy hearing and two distinct diplomatic incidents until things got sorted out; he became persona non grata in the Royal Archives.

  That book had the true name of not one, but two of the Cataclysms. It was in the restricted section for a very good reason.

  My esteemed master, sometimes, was an idiot.

  The next three hours I spent cleaning the entrance room and dusting bookshelves. Under normal circumstances the Archive would be too big to be cleaned by only one person, but the entire complex was designed to preserve books, with not only architectural features as also several magical protections against things that could cause harm to paper like insects, fire, humidity, strong light and dust. In the end, the actual work I had to do was less than half what people would expect … and I used that extra free time in my favor.

  I went to the man in the counter.

  “Good day, Grand Archivist.”

  His acknowledgement was the smallest head movement as he continued to read unfazed.

  “I have an inquiry that is causing me considerable concern. If Her Majesty the Queen were to inquire where the books about artifacts are, what should I tell her?”

  “You could say that the books were in section M13, at the black shelf.”

  “I believe the Queen would be most grateful.”

  He dismissed me with a hand movement, not looking at me even once.

  As grumpy as he appeared, the Grand Archivist was probably one of the nicest people in the castle. He was the one responsible for enforcing the rules of the Archive, but he was also an idealist that believed that everyone with a desire to learn should be allowed the means to do so.

  One day he just came to me out of the blue and said: “If I find you using the library you will be in big trouble, so don't let me find you.” That leads to our strange deflective interactions.

  I went to section M13 carrying my dust mop. There I started searching the black shelf for any approachable book about artifacts. Professor Locan was looking into my predicament, and I am sure he was the most qualified person to do so, but I felt bad for letting other people do something for me one-sided, so I wanted to at least put some effort into it myself.

  I found what appeared to be a catalog of artifacts and powerful magical items, so I took it to one of my secret reading spots.

  It was basically a stool and a pile of books that passed for a makeshift table that I strategically left in a secluded but well-lit corner.

  The book was not an easy read. The part it was trying to define what an artifact is could be written in a totally unknown language for all I could grasp, but the part about the properties and classification was a little more understandable.

  Minor artifacts were classified as that not because they were necessarily less powerful, but because they were not unique and had a stable process of manufacture.

  I was surprised that healing potions were classified as minor artifacts, but that made some sense. Even the most powerful regenerative magic can’t do anything even close to what a healing potion can, and the restriction that you need to administer a potion up to exactly one hour after the injury always felt a little strange. Why would it align so precisely with our arbitrary time keeping convention?

  Breacher and the Seal of the Forgotten Gods were major artifacts because their power was absolute. They always worked, no exceptions.

  Take Breacher as an example. It acted at such a fundamental level that not even a magical protection devised specifically to counter it would work. If another major artifact, let's say an indestructible stone slab, clashed with Breacher, it would create a contradiction with unpredictable results.

  Lucky me ...

  Major artifacts were also indestructible by usual means, but the form that presented itself varied.

  The Seal was indestructible in the more traditional sense, it was never even scratched, and if this book was accurate, they really did try it.

  Breacher was destroyed several times, but it would reappear as another weapon a few years later. It had been a spear, a mace, several kinds of swords and even an axe.

  I was about to read the part about the way some artifacts were destroyed in the past when I heard:

  “Good day, Lord Evengard. It was a long time since I last saw you here” said the Gran Archivist with an uncharacteristic friendly tone, in a voice too loud to be used in a library.

  That was my cue.

  I put the book back on its shelf and left the Archive, carrying the cleaning supplies with me.

  Before leaving, I gave a quick curtsy to the Grand Archivist that, just like every other time, replied with a dismissive hand gesture.