As the light faded on that night many years ago, he turned away from the intricate wooden and gold window in disgust. The nerve of them! To think for a second that they would be able to live while he was captain! He would have to show them. Yes, that’s exactly what he would do. They were worthless brats. That was all. No more, no less. He would have to see to it that they were exterminated. He passed through the doorway, one that mimicked the window almost to the finest detail. His leather boots made almost no sound as he hurried past paintings and vases, servants and lords, and a few of the young royals. They wouldn’t remember him tomorrow. Their hangovers would be so severe they wouldn’t even remember their own last name.

His long cloak briefly caressed the wall as he made a sharp turn into the library. It was completely deserted except for a few young people almost fainting from lack of air. He walked up and down the long aisles, searching. He came upon two such examples. One of which was the teenage princess. The other was quite plainly a secret that was best kept so. Neither noticed the man.

“I suggest,” They both jumped at the sudden voice, their lips still glued together, “That you find somewhere where your mother is less likely to discover this exchange.” He directed this at the girl. “And you sir,” He turned his gaze to the boy, “I would advise to help the young lady with her corset, which you have so lovingly disembowelled.” They both turned a deep shade of scarlet and trotted off in the direction of more secretive areas. He continued to pace the aisles, until he came to what he was looking for. An old man sat behind a large wooden desk, his greying head barely topping the desk, not because he was short, but merely because he was fast asleep on a thick book. His glasses were askew, and he was snoring quite vigorously.

“Excuse me.” He cleared his throat loudly, and the man jumped awake.

“What? Some body say something?” The man was up and running faster than any normal person could manage without fainting from the blood rush.

“I did.” He leaned against the polished wood, letting his face do the talking. The old man’s eyes widened.

“Oh yes. Here you are.” He handed the man a stack of five books. All of which were dusty and old. “All the books we have. Might I ask what they are for? Nobody has checked out those particular books since...well, their forbidden." He talked rather fast and jittery.

“That is my business." The man fingered a loose thread in his sleeve. "Thank you Mister…” He couldn’t recall the library man’s name.

“Bradfield.” His voice cracked a few times.

“Mister Bradfield.” He smiled a dangerous smile, and then disappeared into the forest of book shelves once again. Those books would not be seen for more than twenty years.