His fingers, visibly dirty even in the very low light, ran over these words. They were gold.

His eyes were open wide, clearly the thoughts within him were wondering just how exactly this had survived. How he hadn’t noticed it before, even when he’d probably had all the beds in this room at some point.

Oliver looked around, bright blue eyes looking for anyone else away, ears straining from beneath messy red hair for the sound of irregular breathing, or footsteps of a gaurd. He saw and heard nothing.

So he opened the book, very slowly, as if afraid something would fall out. He wondered what treasures would be within a real, live book, something that had lasted through time, hidden away. What treasures did this amazing find hide?

Oliver was sorely disapointed. The pages were empty. Completely empty. His sighed out loud, not caring if anyone heard him. The book was wonderful by itself, but oh how his eyes longed for printed words on a paper page.

Disappointed, he got back in bed and slept.