107- Advantageous Opportunity

Phaedra stood silently in line as the recalled members of the MET were slowly filed into the building, despite having their ID's scanned by the roving Enforcement agents the moment they arrived on the property. He was unaccustomed to being herded like cattle and the sight of the armed agents pushing their weigh around against younger students, set his teeth on edge. Everyone, including the Mages, which was the rank below Magisters, were being treated with suspicion, and no one seemed to be talking.

"Step forward."

Phaedra was ordered by the desk guard.

"Identification."

Phaedra handed over his ID card as the nearby guards eyed him.

"Archivist, you are to report to your office and stay there until you receive further instruction. Corporal Maelthra will escort you down to the archival level," the guard said as he motioned for a nearby guard to step closer.

"Where is my assistant, Riannoske?" Phaedra questioned as his ID was returned to him.

"He will be at his assigned post," the desk guard replied.

"And could you…"

"I can't. Move along," the guard stated, and Phaedra suddenly found a hand wrapped tightly around his upper arm, pulling him away from the desk.

"What is the meaning of this? Unhand me!"

"Archivist!" The guard released his arm as the desk guard hollered at him. "Corporal Maelthra will escort you to the archival level."

Phaedra didn't approve of the desk guard's curt attitude and straightened his robe as he walked towards the elevator, swiping his badge, only to find that it no longer worked.

"Corporal Maelthra, I presume?" Phaedra asked as the man who had previously grabbed him swiped his own badge, the call button lighting up.

"That's correct, Archivist."

"Care to tell me what all of this is about?"

"The Tribunal has issued a recall, and everyone is being placed in lockdown. I have no other information," Maelthra replied in a friendly, reasonable manner. "After you," he insisted when the elevator doors opened.

When they reached the archival level, Maelthra followed Phaedra off the elevator.

"I can find the way to my office on my own."

"I'm not here to lead the way. Show me the room the cop's lapdog is using."

"You're standing in it," Phaedra said as he motioned to the waiting room, they were standing in. "She didn't seem to like it very much. Not that I blame her. It is rather drab. Don't you agree?"

"Archivist, I assure you, answering my inquiries will benefit everyone. I was told to inspect the room the woman, Quayleigh Vershinin, was given by us. The paperwork clearly stated that you had provided her with a private room on this floor."

"Oh, you should have been clearer. Vershinin is no lapdog, Corporal. She is my sister."

"My apologies, Archivist. According to our records, you don't have a family," he responded as Phaedra walked him down the hall.

"The records aren't wrong, just ignorant. This is her room. You will need a key to access it, since it seems mine no longer works."

The corporal swiped his badge, and the door unlocked.

"Well, would you look at that? Must be my lucky day." Maelthra grinned as he walked into the room and looked around. "Your cooperation is appreciated."

"What are you looking for?" Phaedra questioned from the doorway.

"A murder weapon."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The rooms empty," Maelthra spoke into his radio.

"Come back to the desk," the orders echoed back.

"Copy that," he replied, putting his radio away before turning to Phaedra. "Report to your office and wait for instructions."

"So, I'm a prisoner here?"

"Ha, aren't we all?" Maelthra snickered, briskly walking away.

Phaedra didn't linger in the hallway and immediately headed into the exchange area where another guard had been posted.

"Let me guess, to ensure no one leaves?" Phaedra questioned as he exchanged his shoes.

"Yes, Archivist. Currently, only those stationed on this level are permitted to be here. You are the last of seventeen personnel. All others have been escorted to their assigned stations. I've been told that you are permitted to organize your staff within the archival area as you deem fit, and your card will work on this floor, but not on the exits. Also, I can not allow anyone to leave without permission from the Magistrate."

"And I don't suppose you know what any of this is about?"

"No, sir. I'm just a guard."

Phaedra was already tired of the games, and after grabbing a mask, the guard allowed him into his archives, something that made his blood boil, even if it was protocol during a lockdown.

Making his way to the central station, he turned left and went to the end of the aisle where Riannoske was supposed to be assigned.

"You're reading at a time like this?" Phaedra questioned his diligent assistant, who was leaning over a scroll, examining the text.

"There was nothing else to be done. The guards know nothing, and the higher-ups have issued no statements as to the reason behind this. I am relieved that you have returned though. Where is Quayleigh?"

"Do not worry. She didn't return with me. Now, leave that and come with me," Phaedra ordered as he turned around and began to head back to the central station.

Grabbing a sheet of paper and a writing implement, Phaedra pulled up a stool and logged in to the central computer.

"What are we looking for?" Riannoske questioned.

"Answers, and they won't be found in those scrolls you've been reading," Phaedra replied as he typed in searches, scrolled through results, and made notes in two separate columns.

Tearing the paper in half, he gave one of the lists to Riannoske.

"Take a cart and gather these books and scrolls and take them to the empty conservation room."

"The empty conservation room?" Riannoske questioned, with a slight hesitation as if he was uncertain, he had heard him correctly.

"You will understand soon enough."

"Does this have to do with the lockdown?"

"No, but we are going to use it to our advantage. I'll be in my office. Come and get me once you've finished setting up."

"Of course, Archivist."

Taking the list and an empty cart, Riannoske disappeared down an aisle as Phaedra headed to his office.

Sitting at his desk, Phaedra promptly removed his mask and dialed the number on his half of the paper.

"Archivist, to what do I owe this most unusual and unexpected call?" A woman answered the phone, leaving Phaedra confused.

"I apologize. I must have dialed the wrong extension. I was trying to reach 1095."

The woman giggled, "No, you have the right extension. What can I help you with, Archivist?"

"Ah, very well. I was attempting to speak to Mage Kyffin. The computer had this listed as his station number."

"The computer is correct. Kyffin is my son. How can he be of assistance?"

"Your son… Magister Anquiliria! I am so sorry to have disturbed you, but this is indeed fortuitous. Please have your son transferred to my office immediately."

"If you hadn't noticed, we are in the middle of a lockdown." she replied, sounding mildly annoyed.

"I am aware. My entire staff has just been overwhelmed since the students and apprentices are technically stationed in their dorms, and only mages can be reassigned in emergency situations. Unfortunately, conservations do not care about lockdowns and lack of staffing. We are about to lose a priceless manuscript without the aid of an elemental mage, and Kyffin is the most qualified. This is a delicate matter, and I can entrust it to no one else!"

"Fine. I'll have him sent down to you, but don't think for a moment that this will be a permanent position for him. I'll not have my son waste away buried under piles of dusty old books in your basement."

"Magister, I appreciate your quick response. Time is of the essence, and I would hate for any delay in his arrival to be the reason we lose a multi-million-dollar acquisition."

"He's on his way, Archivist."

"Thank you, Magister."

Phaedra released a heavy sigh after he hung up the phone.

"She's even worse than the rumors," he grumbled as he stood up and headed into his bathroom.

The day hadn't turned out even close to how he had hoped, and he still had no idea of what was happening. He had hoped that Maelthra's comment about a murder weapon was nothing but a joke, but given the lockdown, anything was possible. In all of his years, the only other time he had experienced a lockdown was the day when Sebastien died, and that thought made his stomach turn, especially since no one was saying anything, just like that day.

Once he was finished, he washed his hands and returned to his desk, pulling the personnel file from the lower desk drawer. Including himself, there were seventeen staff stationed on the archival floor: six in preservation, two in the vault, two janitors, five in the archival area, and one personal assistant.

"Everything has been set up," Riannoske announced as he entered the office.

"Good," Phaedra replied as he stood up and headed to his closet, passing the file to Riannoske on his way by. "Ensure that everyone is where they are supposed to be and they aren't to move, even if the lockdown concludes, until I order otherwise."

"Of course," he replied as Phaedra pulled out one of his robes and headed out of the office.

"When you're done, return to the conservation room. I'm having someone brought down to join us."

"As you say," Riannoske replied before stepping away,

Phaedra continued on his way back to the exchange where the guard reluctantly let him inside.

"I can't let you leave this area," the guard reminded him.

"I'm aware, but I can't let anyone in without the proper attire. The fact that you are in this exchange wearing that is taxing enough on this system. You should be in that hall and away from our books! This is not some run-of-the-mill library! This is a state of the art, climate controlled archival facility! Just move to the other side of the room for both our sakes."

The guard seemed upset over having been yelled at, but Phaedra was in no mood to apologize for snapping at the young man, who was just doing as his superiors had instructed. It wasn't his fault if they were uneducated, disrespectful curs, nor was it his fault that their behaviors agitated Phaedra the way that it did.

"My commander informs me that a Mage, Kyffin Kirkwood, is on his way down," the guard relayed from his position, closer to the exit door of the exchange area.

"Yes, that's who I'm here for. He will be with us for the remainder of the lockdown," Phaedra explained as the elevator door opened, and Kyffin stepped off, followed by another guard that Phaedra didn't know.

When they reached the door, the escorting guard opened it and pushed Kyffin inside.

"He's your problem now, Faratah."

"Yes, sir," the young guard, now identified as Faratah, replied with a salute before the door closed in his face.

"Are you alright?" Phaedra questioned Kyffin, who had straightened his posture.

"I'm fine, Archivist."

"Good. Please, put this on," he said as he handed Kyffin the robe. "Normally, I would require you to change entirely, but time is not on our side."

"The magister informed me that I am to assist you with a preservation."

"Conservation, actually, but far be it for me to correct a magister," Phaedra remarked as he retrieved a packaged pair of slippers from a storage bin.

"And yet, I would prefer to know the correct details as I am uncertain of how I can be of any assistance at this time."

"I'll fill you in once we arrive at the conservation room," Phaedra stated as he opened the package and set the slippers on the floor. "Use locker 19 to store your shoes and any other person items, save for your glasses and phone. But please keep them both in your pockets until we arrive at the room."

"You expect me to be able to see without my glasses?" Kyffin questioned as he removed them and put on the robe.

"You expect me to believe that you can't?"

Kyffin folded his glasses and put them in the robes pocket while Phaedra retrieved a hat, mask, and set of gloves.

"I fear the gloves may prove a problem," Phaedra remarked as he handed the hat to Kyffin and noticed the bandage wrapping on his hand. "Normally, I couldn't allow someone with an injury to their hand to enter the archives without it being inspected and properly wrapped, but we haven't the time to spare."

"My injury won't cause any problems. The wound has closed. It is merely unsightly and needs to be protected."

"I see," Phaedra replied as Kyffin put on his mask and then stowed the rest of his belongings in the locker he had been assigned, using his ID badge to securely lock it. "In that case, if the gloves are too small, please tuck your injured hand into the sleeve of the robe, and I will have my assistant bring a larger set for you from storage."

Phaedra waited for Kyffin to put on the glove and to tuck his injured hand away before looking him over.

"This will have to do. Once we are inside, follow closely and do not stop. Do not touch the books, and do not ask any questions until we arrive at the conservation."

"Of course, Archivist," Kyffin replied with a slight nod of his head.

"Faratah, was it?"

"Yes, Archivist," the guard replied.

"I believe we are ready. Open the door."