was low and arched, made of the same reflective gold.
“It’s beautiful,” Thor said. “What is it?”
“Have you never been here before?”
Thor shook his head, feeling ashamed, ignorant.
“It’s the House of Scholars,” she explained. “It contains the most precious and rare volumes of our kingdom. It houses the Royal Library—which are, in my view, the greatest treasures our kingdom has.”
Gwen held his hand and led him to the door, and as she did he knew the time had passed to ask her. He was kicking himself; he would have to ask her later.
They reached the building and Gwen opened the door naturally, as if she owned the place. Thor walked inside, Krohn following.
As they entered, Thor was in awe. While the outer wall was made entirely of stone, the inner wall was made entirely of glass, and in its center lay a circular grass courtyard, with a single tree, a rare flowering fruit tree, in its center. Sunlight flooded in through the glass, lighting it up from the inner courtyard.
All along the inner walls, as far as the eye could see, were spines of books—ancient books, big, thick, with leather and silver and gold bindings, the most exotic and precious volumes he had ever laid eyes upon. They glistened, looked like works of art.
“This place is magnificent,” Thor said. “Have you read all of these books?” he asked, in awe.
Gwen threw her head back and laughed.
“I wish,” she said. “I have certainly tried. It is where I spend the better part of my days. My siblings always made fun of me for being a bookworm. But it is a big part of my life.”
Suddenly, something occurred to Thor.
“That is why your father chose you to rule,” he said. “He thought you were the smartest.”
Gwen looked back, blinking, as if considering that for the first time. She shrugged.
“I don’t know. My siblings are pretty smart, too.”
But Thor could see that she was just being humble. Seeing her in this place, how at-home she was here, he saw her in a new light; he saw for the first time how learned she was, could see the intelligence shining in her eyes, and suddenly it all made sense. He could see that Gwendolyn had her own source of power. Knowledge. Wisdom beyond what Thor could ever hope to attain. It was inspiring. And he would never have expected it from her, given how beautiful she was, and given that women were rarely given such a scholarly education in this kingdom.
“You are late for the day’s lesson,” came a voice.
Thor turned to see an old man walking towards them, his face covered in wrinkles, his head covered in gray hair, wearing the royal purple and green robes of the Royal Council. He walked with a limp, slowly, hunched over just a bit, using a cane to help him go, the golden tip echoing as it touched down on the stone floor. He smiled warmly at Gwen, his face folding into a million lines.
Gwen cleared her throat.
“Thor, meet Aberthol. He is the Royal Scholar. He was of counsel to my father, and to his father before him.”
“And to his father before him,” Aberthol added in his hoarse voice, smiling. “But not to the new MacGil king,” he added, growing serious. “Not anymore, anyway.”
Gwen looked back at him, in shock.
“Really?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Not as of yesterday. It was too much. I could suffer no more of his indignities. He has surrounded himself with a new Council anyway. Young folk. All of whom seem bent on ill-advising him. I still sit at the council meetings, but it is just a formality now.”
Aberthol shook his head sadly.
“Your father would be turning over in his grave,” he said. “This does not bode well for the Ring. It does not bode well at all. When knowledge and wisdom are replaced with ignorance and haughtiness, it is only a matter of time until the court collapses—and the kingdom with it. For after all, what are a court and a kingdom built on, if not on knowledge and wisdom? All else—arms and soldiers and wealth and power—all else follows that. Wisdom is the foundation of any kingdom. Never forget that Gwendolyn.”
She nodded back to him, and he studied her.
“I hear that you will rule,” he added.
Gwen opened her eyes wide in surprise.
“How did you hear that?” she asked.
He smiled back.
“I’m not without my resources,” he said, “even for an old man. Word travels quickly in King’s Court. Too quickly. Yet in this case,