The cheer died down as quickly as it had begun, stifled by Valeria's grim pronouncement. The reality of their situation was a cold splash of water. They had defied the Syndicate.
Kaelen looked at the hopeful, terrified faces around him. They saw a leader who had faced down a predator and won. He saw a city on the brink of collapse, with himself as the fragile pillar holding it up.
"We can't just wait for them to come back with more firepower," Roric said, hefting his pipe. His bravado was back, but it was edged with a new, sharp understanding of the stakes.
"We won't," Kaelen said. His voice was tired, but the golden light in his eyes was steady. "Valeria is right. Silas was a scout. The real force is still out there. But so is the rest of the city."
He closed his eyes, letting his consciousness expand once more. He pushed past the lingering shock of the Mnemonic Guards, past the seething anger of the Syndicate agents regrouping. He sought the ordinary citizens of Aethelgard. He felt their confusion as the Siphons fell silent. He felt their fear as the old routines of forgetting vanished. And beneath that, he felt a desperate, burgeoning curiosity. A million questions, suddenly allowed to form.
Why is the sky orange?
What was my mother's name?
Is there a world outside?
"They're waking up," Kaelen murmured, opening his eyes. "And they're afraid. The Council is lying to them, and the Syndicate is preying on that fear. We need to give them the truth. Directly."
Lyssa stepped forward, her brow furrowed. "How? The Council controls all the broadcasts."
"He doesn't need a broadcast," Valeria said, her gaze fixed on Kaelen with a mix of dread and awe. "Does he?"
Kaelen shook his head. "No. But a city-wide psychic announcement would be… violent. It would be another form of forcing a memory on people. I won't do that." The principle was clear to him now, the first rule of his new Library: A memory given must be chosen.
"So what, then?" Roric asked, frustration creeping into his voice. "We just sit here and hope they figure it out?"
"No," Kaelen said, a plan crystallizing. It was risky, but it was theirs. "We go out. Not to fight, but to help."
He looked at the crowd of former Hollows and conditioned workers. "You've just gotten your lives back. You remember what you were. Teachers, engineers, artists, healers. The city out there is full of people just like you, who are lost and scared. They need teachers to help them understand their returning memories. They need healers to help them with the shock. They need engineers to keep the lights on and the water flowing now that the central Siphons are gone."
A murmur of understanding went through the crowd. This was a purpose. A fight, but not with weapons.
"We'll form groups," Valeria said, her tactical mind seizing the concept. "Mixed units. A few of my guards for protection, mixed with volunteers. We secure a sector, not with force, but with aid. We show them what this 'Library' truly means."
"Exactly," Kaelen said. "We make the Library a physical place, not just a concept in my head. We'll start with the sectors closest to us. We show them that we're not a new power trying to control them. We're neighbors, helping them rebuild."
He turned to Lyssa. "I need you to do something for me. The most important thing."
"Anything," she said, her eyes wide.
"I need you to find a way to get a message to the Remnants. To Ilya's people."
Lyssa's breath hitched. "The resistance? Kaelen, they're… they're radicals. Bombs and protests."
"They're people who never forgot the truth," Kaelen corrected gently. "They have the question we now have the answer to. Tell them… tell them the Librarian has the story of the stars. And he's ready to share it with anyone who wants to listen."
It was a gamble. The Remnants could see him as just another ruler, a new Archivist with a different title. Or they could see him as the fulfillment of their long struggle.
He looked around the chamber, at the first citizens of this new world. "This is how we fight. Not by hiding in our fortress, but by building a city worth saving, one street at a time. The Syndicate trades in fear and memory. We will trade in hope and truth."
He picked up a simple data-slate from a discarded console. It was blank.
"The first rule of the Library," he said, his voice firm, "is that no one is turned away. Let's go and invite the city in."