There were tomes upon tomes in the Grand Library. They were as old as the Lords of the Dark Crystal themselves. Their musty scent filled the room, almost making one suffocate in the smell. It was utterly quiet, save for the soft click clack of shoes walking between the shelves. SkekShod was looking through each row, searching not for a book but a person. The skeksis would occasionally slide up his glove on his left hand just high enough to see his palm. It was still bare. He was about to give up when he heard a soft snoring.
He walked toward the sound, robes almost flying behind him. As the Treasurer found the source of the noise, he cocked his head in mild confusion. The Historian was slumped over a desk, head bobbing slightly as he fought to keep it up. SkekShod came to the other skeksis side, gently tapping his shoulder. SkekOk jumped awake, squawking, “I didn’t eat the last slice!” The Treasurer took a step back with a perplexed expression. SkekOk turned to him, l