A Dangerous Destiny: The Pure One Book I

Chapter Eleven

Henry

Henry rose early the next morning, long before the sun, ignoring the protestations of his throbbing head. He was grateful for the quiet granted by the empty halls of the palace before dawn. No doubt the party had continued well into the wee hours of the morning, and it would be some time before any would bother him. He was eager to take advantage of that fact.

The previous night's revelry had made it clear enough that privacy would be hard to come by for some time unless he made the effort to actively seek it. Not bothering to wake any of his serving men, Henry dressed quickly and made his way down the familiar halls to the bowels of the west wing that housed the palace library.

Since he had learned his letters, Henry had become a sort of slave to books. The library of Salam Palace contained the Empire's largest collection of literary items, and was piled high with journals, large tombs, rare texts, and vellum scrolls collected by the Erestian royalty since earliest of the Hapsben line had united the Empire and established the Capitol in Auresir. In spite of the carnage, lack of provisions, and general discomfort he had been subjected to over the past year, the separation from his beloved library, and the books contained within, was perhaps one of the greatest hardships Henry had been made to endure.

In the sanctuary of those sacred walls he could truly be alone with his thoughts. Fredrick's general disdain for those of excessive learning, combined with his love of ignorance, ensured that the library, of all places within the palace complex, truly belonged to the Prince. He could not wait to entomb himself within the cold, quiet chambers of words once again.

As Henry opened the heavy oak door and pulled it closed behind, the calm that spread over him was instantaneous. Walking through the stacks, surrounded by the vast array of knowledge, he inhaled the books, the smell of leather, glue, ink, and the slight decay of age, as an exquisite perfume. For the first time, Henry felt as if he was finally home.

Henry's great-grandfather, Philip Henry, was the first ruler in the Bastario line and a famed bibliophile with a lust for knowledge. When he established his throne, Philip Bastario had worked tirelessly to gather whatever written materials and texts he could obtain, ensuring that the library of Salam palace would surpass any collection knowledge ever before compiled in recorded history. There was little question that he had achieved his goal.

As he scanned wall after wall of books, Henry had found the things was much as he had left them over a year prior. Running a finger along the edge of the shelves he passed, Henry could see a fine layer of dust had stealthily crept over the majority of the collection in its disuse. Not surprising. There were few who frequented the library as often as him. Still, as he continued deeper within the stacks, Henry increased his speed, walking with purpose, stopping only to retrieve the occasional volume with barely a glance at the title. He was not here to wander aimlessly. At present, there was only one set of items that held any interest to him, and Henry was eager to ensure that they had remained safe during his absence. He could tolerate no interruption before that was accomplished.

Henry had found the small volumes shortly before his father ordered him to the front lines, fighting against the Vox Populi. A collection of unmarked leather bound journals thrust aside unceremoniously, in a dusty corner, along with a few rat-eaten papers and outdated maps of the Empire. Amidst the collection of much loftier guided volumes, the journals' plain exteriors had attracted Henry immediately. They were something overlooked and, in his experience, things overlooked, were very often the things of greatest worth.

The journals belonged to none other than Philip Henry Bastario, and contained his personal notes. Henry had never met this ancestor, whose name he bore, but the man's reputation spoke of his brilliance as both a military tactician and as a leader and his writings did not disappoint.