Storyboards: Preldeg

It was still up his sleeve. Thank Belar for that! Although by feeling the edges of the parchment up his right sleeve he couldn't tell if it was badly ripped, it would at least still be in one piece, unlike those Preldeg's fellow Priests were currently in the process of burning. To say that this was the will of Belar was obviously a sham. To even claim the main reason behind these atrocities was a desire to remove unneeded non-Alorn literature was ridiculous. The Temple Library had easily enough space to accommodate all that manuscripts, yet evidently not enough so that the various favourites of the High Priest could have an assigned extended quarters. Burning books so a few vandals could have yet another place to drink. It was unspeakable, and Preldeg had to stop his clenched fist from tightening around the crackling parchment and tearing it further.
It was lucky Gelthen had warned him in time. Preldeg was minded to try to find his confidant now to share the good news, but far too many of the other priests would be congregated in the taverns on the south side of the city to make that a feasible option. Buying him drinks could wait, in any case. The most important thing now would be to find a safe hiding place for the scroll. Having gone to all the trouble of nimbly removing it from the library - and, considering his sizeable paunch, such nimble thievery hardly came naturally to Preldeg - it would be obtuse to leave it where any passing priest could stumble upon it. It was a risk, but there was no other option but to conceal it in his own humble quarters in a side street behind the Temple, and as he pushed the ponderously stiff door open, thought of a perfect hiding place.
As he entered the room, however, Gelthen was there, and quickly came and laid his hands squarely on Preldeg's shoulders.
'Did you get it back?' the leaner man pressed him. 'Is it safe? Please don't say you hid it elsewhere in the library. You can't expect it to be hidden among the Alorn manuscripts.'
'Relax, Gelthen. Even if I had left it there, those pigs would never find it. Most of them are hardly literate, anyway.' He lifted his friend's left hand from his own shoulder and clasped it reassuringly. 'I have it here. Your warning was indeed in time. You worry too much.' Relaxed somewhat by his friend's presence, Preldeg forgot his own anxiety and peered around the room for his tankard, which something told him should still be half full from when he'd been so hurried forced to leave it behind a few hours ago.
'Fine. Just keep it safe. It's not just your time that's been spent on that, you know.' Gelthen would clearly only be calmed by seeing the parchment safe, and having located his tankard, Preldeg prepared to take a swift drink to prepare himself to face the inevitable browbeating for allowing the scroll to become ripped in passage. Taking the rolled parchment from his sleeve with his left hand, he took the tankard in his right. It was empty. Evidently Gelthen's anxiety had drained the rest of its contents during his absence. Grinning at his friend, who had noticed him holding the now empty vessel, Preldeg handed over the scroll and went searching for another barrel.
He could hear Gelthen unravelling the crackling pages behind him as he located what seemed to be the last barrel hidden under a low bench. He had clambered underneath like a beached sea-mammoth when he heard Gelthen's words.
'It's not the right one. This isn't the Chronicle at all. I can't even read what language it's in.' Surely it was a joke. Surely this was a silly act of revenge for all the little tricks Preldeg had himself played on his friend over the years of their acquaintance. But hearing Gelthen's voice turn increasingly to anger, he knew it wasn't so. He turned to face the younger man but, forgetting he was wedged underneath the wooden bench, merely managed to knock his head firmly against it- firmly enough to render him immediately unconscious.

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