It was pitch black in the cellar. The cellar of countless numbers of papers. Pieces of parchment with important, unimportant information. Information containing acts of deviant behaviour, acts of goodwill, treaties and allegiances. It was the Praevalidus archives. A chamber far below the Red Dragon castle, a fifteen minute walk down a steep, narrow, spiralling staircase into pitch black.
The woman walking down, walked carefully, each step as delicate as the first. Her touch shining the way, until eventually she came to the heavy, iron-wood door that would lead to the archives. Inserting the key, she heaved it open with the strength she had built-up over the years of heavy lifting.
The wide and long corridor was blacker and darker than the night sky. Embers of the touch fell to an abrupt death to the ice cold floor.
Ting noises of feet and claws scratching the floor filled the room for a brief moment. The vermin that had somehow found their way into the archive. The woman jumped at the sound, but the vermin didn’t frighten her. Breathing deeply to calm her nerves, she continued walking to where she needed to find the parchment of interest.
‘Damn those little scampers,’ she mumbled.