True to his plan, John spent the afternoon immersed in study. After leaving the garden, he instructed the eunuch to guide him to the palace library or archive. The eunuch's eyebrows had risen a fraction in surprise – perhaps Emperor Arslan rarely frequented the archives himself – but he bowed and complied without question.
They traversed corridors that grew quieter and more reverent. At last they reached a pair of tall doors engraved with images of scholars and sages. Beyond lay the Grand Imperial Library. John stepped inside and had to pause at the threshold.
The library was a vast hall stretching into shadows, illuminated by a combination of high windows and gently glowing globes of light that floated near the ceiling like captive suns. Shelves of dark wood soared up two levels, accessible by spiral staircases and balconies. The smell of old paper, leather, and a hint of incense permeated the air. It was at once familiar and fantastical – any bibliophile would feel at home, yet here and there the ordinary rows of books were interrupted by curious artifacts: a suspended orrery of brass rings depicting planetary motions, a stuffed chimera in one corner gathering dust, and on a central reading table, a large crystal mounted on a stand, slowly rotating and projecting a faint blue light onto the ceiling. Runes etched along its facets suggested it was an enchanted device, perhaps monitoring something or preserving the climate for the books.
A few robed figures – librarians or scribes – moved quietly about, organizing scrolls and ledgers. They glanced up in alarmed surprise to see the Emperor stride in; one nearly dropped a stack of parchment. Immediately, they prostrated themselves or bowed deeply.
John waved a hand mildly. "Continue your tasks," he said softly. "I require some materials on rune magic. Who is the master of this library?"
An elderly woman with striking silver hair and ink-stained fingers stepped forward, bowing. Despite her age, her eyes were keen behind small round spectacles. "Your Majesty, I am Livia, Chief Archivist. How may we serve your knowledge today?" Her tone held genuine devotion to learning, and John felt a spark of kinship – she reminded him of a kindly professor type.
He offered a slight smile. "I wish to read about Rune-Enscriptive Energetics. Particularly, foundational texts or treatises on the application of runes in energetic systems – ley lines, glyphwork, that sort of thing."
Livia's eyes widened slightly at the specificity, but she quickly nodded. "Of course. We have several works on the theory of R.E.E. and practical compendiums of runes." She murmured to an assistant, who scurried off among the shelves.
"Additionally," John added, "any records pertaining to this city's magical infrastructure – the ley-grid, the Grand Nexus, and similar topics."
"Certainly, sire. We have some city plans and maintenance scrolls from the previous regime's Arcane Ministry. I shall retrieve those as well." Livia motioned and another assistant briskly walked to a section of shelves.
Within minutes, John was seated at the central table with an array of knowledge laid before him: a hefty leather-bound tome titled The Principles of Enscriptive Energetics, a series of scrolls that were technical diagrams of rune circuits, and a codex listing known runes and their meanings.
The librarians kept a respectful distance as John delved in, though he sensed their curious glances. He had removed the outer silk coat and rolled up the sleeves of his linen shirt for comfort, looking more like a scholar than an emperor for the moment.
He opened the tome first. The script was ornate but legible to his eyes – another relief that language was not a barrier. On the frontispiece, an illuminated illustration showed a robed mage inscribing symbols on a stone tablet, with lightning arcing from the tablet to a tower in the background.
He began to read. The text was dense, but he was a quick study – years of parsing military manuals and learning foreign protocols had trained him to digest information swiftly.
"Rune-Enscriptive Energetics, commonly shortened to R.E.E.," the tome proclaimed, "is the art and science of binding ambient arcane energy into written forms (runes) to produce desired effects. By inscribing specific symbols and sequences thereof upon a physical medium, practitioners create conduits and matrices that channel the natural power flowing through the world – often termed ley energy – into functional outputs: light, heat, force, healing, and more."
John felt a thrill at seeing confirmation of what he had suspected. He continued reading, occasionally murmuring key points under his breath:
"The craft requires both precision and will. The rune itself acts as a key and lens; the inscriber's intent and vitality fuel the activation, though once established, many runic constructs draw power directly from the environment or stored reservoirs. Complex arrangements of runes (rune circuitry) can regulate continuous effects, akin to machines of moving parts but composed of symbols and spell-light."
He thought of the lines he saw in the throne dais – that clearly was a "rune circuitry," an array embedded in the palace's very structure.
Another section detailed the relationship with ley lines: "Ancient architects often built cities at confluences of ley lines (natural streams of earth's energy). The City of Light, for example, sits upon a nexus of three such lines, giving rise to its famed abundance of light-craft and enchantments. The so-called Grand Ley Nexus beneath its central plaza is both a focal altar and a regulator, redistributing energy via an array of sigils and enchanted conduits to key locations (street lamps, pumps, wards, etc.)."
John ran a finger along the diagram accompanying that passage – it showed a schematic of a city (unlabeled, but likely this one) with lines radiating out from a central point. Tiny rune marks indicated where they led – he recognized a symbol repeated at spots, possibly the mark for glow-stone lamps, and others where wells or fountains might be.
He leaned back, absorbing it all. This was like reading a manual on how a power grid works, but magical. It was fascinating – and encouraging, because it meant these systems had logic and could be learned, not just mysterious sorcery beyond a layman.
His soldier's mind also recognized the strategic value: controlling or understanding these systems gave immense power. A conqueror who mastered R.E.E. could build or break a city's will by literally controlling its light and water. Perhaps Arslan hadn't fully appreciated that, focusing instead on conventional force.
John spent the next few hours alternating between texts. The codex of runes was essentially a dictionary: each rune symbol drawn alongside its phonetic name and its primary meaning or effect. For example, one curling glyph named "Az" denoted light or illumination; another spiky one "Thur" meant barrier or protection. Some runes were elemental (water, fire, earth, air), others abstract (binding, cutting, growing). There were also combination runes, made by overlapping or merging simpler ones, to create composite effects.
He practiced tracing a few on spare parchment with a charcoal stylus. To his mild disappointment, nothing happened – likely because to actually activate them required proper engraving technique and some infusion of energy or intent. Still, committing their shapes to memory felt useful. He imagined drawing a rune in the air or carving one on an object. Perhaps with training, he could do that.
One scroll contained maintenance logs for the City of Light's arcane systems. It listed regular inspections of nodes and described the Grand Nexus rituals performed at solstices to keep it calibrated. A note described how two years ago a minor quake had misaligned some runes and caused flickering in the eastern district's glow-stones until repairs were made. John found this all enthralling – an entire bureaucracy around magical infrastructure, as complex as any public works department back home.
He was so engrossed that he didn't notice someone new entering the library until a polite cough sounded behind him. John looked up to see a man in flowing burgundy robes, with a high collar and intricate silver embroidery. He was of late middle years, bald at the crown with long dark hair trailing in a tail, and he carried a wooden staff capped by a crystal. His eyes were sharp and somewhat haughty.
Immediately, the librarians bowed to this man, which told John he must be someone of import – likely a court magician or high sorcerer.
Indeed, the man bowed in turn to John, hand on heart. "Your Imperial Majesty. I heard you had graced the library and could scarce believe it. I am Magister Salim, chief of arcane lore for your court." His voice held a slight tension, as though he wasn't sure why the Emperor would bury himself in books instead of consulting him.
John realized this was the perfect opportunity to ask questions, but he had to maintain Arslan's facade. Perhaps Arslan usually relied on Salim for magical advice rather than reading himself.
He gave a cordial nod. "Magister, I trust you are well. Yes, I decided to survey the knowledge this library holds, particularly regarding the City of Light's arcane workings. I find it prudent to understand the tools and weapons at my disposal." He deliberately framed it as a military-minded leader might.
Salim's stance eased slightly and he offered a thin smile. "A wise endeavor, Your Majesty. The City of Light's arcane infrastructure is indeed a marvel – one that eluded our grasp in full during the siege. I am relieved it mostly survived."
"Mostly," John echoed, inviting elaboration.
Salim cleared his throat. "Yes. As the guild representative – Zafir, I believe – mentioned in court, the Grand Nexus was damaged. My own acolytes have been examining it. It appears that during our final assault, when our battlemages breached the outer wards, an overload of energy surged through the nexus. Several primary runes shattered. We have contained the instability, but repairs are delicate. I was actually on my way to brief you and request guidance when I learned you were already steeped in the subject."
John closed the tome in front of him and gestured for Salim to continue. "What sort of guidance do you require, Magister?"
Salim hesitated, choosing words. "The repair could be approached in multiple ways. One is simply replacing the broken runes with identical symbols, effectively restoring the prior design. This would get things running as they were – likely acceptable to the people here. However, another approach is possible: we could integrate the nexus into our imperial system, altering some of its rune logic to tie it with our own ley-channels from the west. It could be an opportunity to meld the City of Light's power with that of our heartland."
He spoke eagerly now. "It might even extend our influence further, magically speaking – an empire-wide grid in the future, connecting ley lines across realms under your control."
John absorbed this. It sounded impressive but also complicated. A misstep could break things worse. Also, if he had imperial ley-channels in the west, that was new info – apparently Arslan's original empire had their own magic networks.
"What do you recommend, personally?" John asked, again masking it as leader seeking counsel.
Salim bowed his head slightly. "My professional opinion is that we stabilize first – restore the nexus as was – then gradually, if desired, work on integrating the systems once we have more time and study. The immediate concern of water and light is paramount for morale. And I confess, trying to integrate now, without fully deciphering this city's unique runes, could be risky."
John found himself liking Salim's measured approach. He gave a small smile. "Then proceed with the first approach. Speed is important, but ensure it's done right. Lives depend on it."
Salim looked relieved. "As you command, sire. I will coordinate with the guilds and Master Aru on resources. We have some skilled runesmiths in our retinue as well."
Before he left, John added, "Magister Salim, one more thing. Provide me with a basic briefing document on the runic standards of our empire – I want to compare them to what I've read here about this city. I have… an interest in how we can use these powers more effectively in future campaigns and governance."
Salim's eyes lit up at that, likely pleased that the Emperor was showing interest in his field. "I shall prepare a summary at once, Your Majesty. You will have it by tomorrow."
He bowed and took his leave.
After the magister departed, John leaned back in his chair, stretching. He realized the light from outside had shifted to late afternoon amber. His eyes were a bit strained from reading, but his mind buzzed with new knowledge.
So far, he had indeed delayed any rash political moves by immersing himself in this "studious" persona. And it was paying dividends: he now understood far more of how magic functioned here, and he had opened the door to working more closely with the likes of Salim and the guilds, which could only help him navigate future issues.
The chief archivist, Livia, approached softly with a cup of tea. "My lord, forgive me, but you have been reading for many hours. Perhaps some refreshment."
John accepted the tea gratefully. It was herbal, with a calming chamomile-like effect. "Thank you, Livia."
She smiled, a bit astonished at hearing her name from the Emperor's mouth. "It is an honor to see Our Emperor valuing the wisdom in these halls. If I may say, your father – pardon, the late Emperor (she corrected, since Arslan wasn't originally Emperor before conquest) – rarely found time for such pursuits himself."
John realized she thought he was referring to some imperial father. Clearly Arslan had not been Emperor until now, but maybe she assumed he meant Arslan's predecessors or mentors. He let it slide.
"Knowledge is as important as steel," he said quietly, a genuine belief of his own shining through.
By the time John finally left the library, dusk was approaching. He carried with him a few notes he had jotted down – diagrams of a couple of simple runes that he wanted to try later on perhaps. Livia had promised to have copies made for him of any texts he desired.
Stepping out into the corridor, John rolled his shoulders and realized he was actually looking forward to seeing the city at night – to see if parts were dark or if some glow-stones still shone. It would tell him if the repairs had started yet, and also it would simply be a sight to behold: the famed City of Light after dark. Perhaps he could take a view from one of the high balconies before retiring.
But as he made his way back towards his chambers, escorted by a single lantern-bearing servant (the palace corridors were lit by spaced glow-crystals providing a gentle light), he also knew he had to be prepared for whatever came next. Day one in this world was nearly done. It had been a victory of sorts – he hadn't been exposed, he had set some positive changes in motion, and he had begun to arm himself with understanding.
Still, he remained on guard. The palace at twilight took on a more shadowed aspect. Courtiers and servants he passed bowed, but he caught some furtive looks. Word of his unusual behaviors would be spreading. Let them talk, he thought. If anything, it might make potential adversaries pause, uncertain what manner of man they now served or faced.
He intended to keep it that way – unpredictable, unreadable. It was an advantage in itself.
Reaching his chambers, John dismissed the servant. Before going in, he stepped onto a side balcony that overlooked part of the city. Night had fallen fully. In the distance, he saw patches of darkness where perhaps the glow-stones were out, but large boulevards closer to the palace still glittered with soft white lights at regular intervals. The effect was enchanting – rivers of light outlining thoroughfares, and clusters of illuminated windows from homes and taverns. If the City of Light was diminished, it was not defeated; its brilliance remained, if a bit bruised.
John allowed himself a moment of appreciation at the vista. This world… it held so much wonder. Danger, too, but also wonder. In that moment, he vowed that whatever else happened, he would strive to leave his mark here not just as a conqueror, but perhaps as something more – a builder, a protector. He had taken a life to save another in his old world; perhaps here he could save many while living a life that wasn't originally his.
The thought was both solemn and freeing.
He turned and re-entered his chambers, where lamps had been lit and the evening's quiet sprawled out invitingly. His body was tired, but his mind still whirred. John knew he should rest – tomorrow would likely bring new trials and he needed to be at full strength, physically and mentally. Yet he also felt the temptation to continue his studies by lamplight deep into the night.
Maybe he could compromise – a bit of reading in bed to lull him to sleep, he mused wryly. Even emperors might steal bedtime reading.
A faint smile on his lips at that thought, John – Emperor Arslan – closed the balcony doors and prepared to end the first day of his new life, determined to meet the coming dawn with knowledge hard-won and discipline unbroken.