<div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="background-color:#050505; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><div style="background-color:#101010; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;">"The basement, the basement..." Victor mumbled as his urgent strides carried them down the hallway and several flights of stairs, some with beautifully polished banisters and roll runners, others rickety and bare. As they descended, wood gave way to stone. Victor's breath transformed into mist before his eyes as they descended deeper. He had been this way once before, and he was getting jittery with excitement. Any moment now, there would be a corner. And this time, Percy wouldn't be lurking right around it to stop him from finding out what was in the basement. There was no light here. Victor needed little to see, and in his excitement forgot that Arya should have asked for some long ago.<br/><br/>There it was, up ahead: the bend in wall where his adventure had stopped the last time. It was distinguishable from the dark stone only because it, as gaps tend to be, was even blacker. He took a moment to consider whether or not it would be impolite to <span style="font-style: italic">not</span> let the lady first, then decided that perhaps it wasn't so rude after all to volunteer to be the first one to breach the blackness. With a look back at Arya to make sure she was still following, Victor took the right turn.<br/><br/>He let out a shuddering breath he didn't know he'd been holding. <span style="font-style: italic">No Percy this time.</span> This side-hallway wasn't very long, and he could see a fortified wooden door up ahead. Hesitant at first, his steps soon gained more urgency. Blood pounded in his ears as neared the door. Half a pace from it, Victor stopped dead and reached out for the wrought iron handle with lightly trembling fingertips. He'd know what was in the room he'd not once been allowed in, ever, during his long life. He pushed down, and the door slid easily open.<br/><br/>The archives were as dark as he had expected, but upon lighting the single little oil lantern on the desk, Victor had to take a moment to look around properly. Long series of shelves, about as tall as himself, were placed in a labyrinth-like system. A polished writing desk, with the oil lamp on, and a comfortable looking chair had been placed roughly in the middle of a shelf-free bit of space at the front of the room.<br/><br/>"How many damn secret jam recipes could he have down here...?" Victor mumbled to himself as he walked a few feet down one aisle. There must have been thousands of folders and boxes marked with his father's long, slanting script that he'd always found a little difficult to read. "I rather hope you somehow have an idea of where to start, miss Summers," he said, picking out a folder at random and opening it to reveal a series of article cutouts and letters. "I have the feeling we could spend quite a long time down here otherwise."</div><div style="background-color:#202020; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">Notes:</span> </span></div></div></div>