Post by Germany on May 15, 2014 18:22:43 GMT -6
The room laid out before him held the same bleak and heavy atmosphere that the rest of the manor did: the air felt uncomfortably thick and dry in his lungs, and despite the illumination from the sconces on the walls, shadows seemed to cling stubbornly to everything. However, unlike the other rooms he'd come across before, this room was a library, and to Ludwig, that made all the difference. He'd always been fond of books, and his own house boasted a small library that he'd stocked with his favorites. By comparison, this one was downright grand. Scanning the shelves with a practiced eye, Ludwig had to guess that the room held at least 5,000 books. Probably more. It also held a few reading desks, and some comfortable-looking overstuffed chairs. The German bit back a sigh; those would have been perfect for a nap, but he couldn't afford to do that right now, even though with the constant darkness filtering in through the windows of the manor, he had completely lost track of the passage of the hours and had no idea how long he'd been awake.
Walking towards the nearest shelf, he ran his fingers along the spines of the books, reading the titles. Most of them looked obscure, or at the very least archaic; nearly half appeared to be written in Latin, books of classical essays on government, the natural sciences, anatomy, religion, and philosophy. The nicer copies were leather-bound, with gold leaf worked into the letters stamped on the covers. Ludwig picked one, flipped through it, then carefully replaced it on the shelf. The condition of the entire house unsettled him somewhat; even the books were suspiciously well-taken-care-of, full of pages that hadn't yellowed or stained with age and had somehow been protected from dust and bookworms. America had claimed this place was old and abandoned, so either America had been lying or the effects of time just didn't apply here. Logically, Ludwig assumed the former.
But now that he was here, an idea occurred to him, and Ludwig quickly decided he wasn't here to browse the stacks (or at least, that could wait). He moved across the room to where the larger books rested, filed into special tall shelves and looking for all the world like tidily organized slabs of stone. A world atlas he found, along with two illustrated encyclopedias of plants and animals and a book full of architectural prints. All of those looked very interesting, but Ludwig kept filing through the heavy books. Well-respected houses -- houses that had names, like this godforsaken place -- sometimes kept a copy of the original blueprints, something that the owner could show guests when it came time for him or her to brag about the ingenuity of the building or how much care and effort had gone into its flawless design. Ludwig didn't dare assume he'd be so lucky to find such a thing (or, if he did find it, that it would reveal a way out), but there were quite a lot of large books here, and he had to know for sure. He'd been running out of ideas ever since forcing his way out of the house had failed, and his focus had been growing more and more single-minded ever since it became apparent that Ludwig couldn't seem to hang on to any other nation that he'd met.
Some of them had just apparently wandered off, but he should have been more responsible all the same. And he wasn't about to let it be said that he wasn't responsible.
Still shifting book after book aside with a heavy thud, thoroughly engrossed in his search for the possible blueprints, Ludwig paid little attention to the room behind him or to the door, half-closed, at his back.
Walking towards the nearest shelf, he ran his fingers along the spines of the books, reading the titles. Most of them looked obscure, or at the very least archaic; nearly half appeared to be written in Latin, books of classical essays on government, the natural sciences, anatomy, religion, and philosophy. The nicer copies were leather-bound, with gold leaf worked into the letters stamped on the covers. Ludwig picked one, flipped through it, then carefully replaced it on the shelf. The condition of the entire house unsettled him somewhat; even the books were suspiciously well-taken-care-of, full of pages that hadn't yellowed or stained with age and had somehow been protected from dust and bookworms. America had claimed this place was old and abandoned, so either America had been lying or the effects of time just didn't apply here. Logically, Ludwig assumed the former.
But now that he was here, an idea occurred to him, and Ludwig quickly decided he wasn't here to browse the stacks (or at least, that could wait). He moved across the room to where the larger books rested, filed into special tall shelves and looking for all the world like tidily organized slabs of stone. A world atlas he found, along with two illustrated encyclopedias of plants and animals and a book full of architectural prints. All of those looked very interesting, but Ludwig kept filing through the heavy books. Well-respected houses -- houses that had names, like this godforsaken place -- sometimes kept a copy of the original blueprints, something that the owner could show guests when it came time for him or her to brag about the ingenuity of the building or how much care and effort had gone into its flawless design. Ludwig didn't dare assume he'd be so lucky to find such a thing (or, if he did find it, that it would reveal a way out), but there were quite a lot of large books here, and he had to know for sure. He'd been running out of ideas ever since forcing his way out of the house had failed, and his focus had been growing more and more single-minded ever since it became apparent that Ludwig couldn't seem to hang on to any other nation that he'd met.
Some of them had just apparently wandered off, but he should have been more responsible all the same. And he wasn't about to let it be said that he wasn't responsible.
Still shifting book after book aside with a heavy thud, thoroughly engrossed in his search for the possible blueprints, Ludwig paid little attention to the room behind him or to the door, half-closed, at his back.