"There was a time I would have killed a man for daring ask me that," She said, poised with a deadly grace upon her throne. "So tell me why my men should not kill you."
The Sunspears about him flexed in a uniform movement. Eight terrifying figures armoured in silver plate mail. Moments before they had been still as statues, indistinguishable from arming mannequins, now they moved with a lethal purpose. It was only a shift from an upright spear to one at parade rest, but it shook him.
"Lady of the Black Tower... I meant no disrespect. I had but one intent in mind, to chronicle your rise to glory. Your age was only a matter of when to begin my tale."
Her eyes glowed with a golden light, not indistinguishable from the sunlight glinting from the spears. As he stared, entranced, they flashed a deep crimson red and he felt a mortal terror strike him. He sunk to his knees in supplication, the force of her will making the movement involuntary but smooth.
She rose and the Sunspears relaxed. She wore beautiful ornate silvered armour. In it was said to have been carved the deeds she had performed, each one marked with an arcane sigil and the blood of her most powerful foes, now strengthening her. At her side hung a gleaming black khopesh, its blade made of the very darkness of the void and hurting just to gaze upon. Where she filled him with dread, the blade filled him with rage, made him want to hunt and to kill. She flexed an armoured gauntlet and he saw the crystal at the back of her hand glow with an unearthly light. The runes about it glowed in turn, then faded as the slivers of magical energy dissipated. She glowered down at him, her patrician features harsh in the reflected sunlight. She was imperious and cruel, willful and disciplined, as cold as the ice of Doskara, and as beautiful as the sun over a Staelorian wheat field. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a tight bun, an exacting appearance that hid nothing.
"Tell me... storyteller... What reason you think I have to tell my story... When I am eternal?" He paused a moment at her words.
"So that all may know the glory of your rise and your story be kept through the ages... For nothing is truly eternal and all ends in time, even tales told."
The air hung still, her imperious majesty standing at the edge of her throne, the dais upon which it sat trembling beneath her. No. He was trembling. The dais was as steady as could be, but he quaked. He, dauntless in the face of darkness, quaked. She would render judgement and if she wished him destroyed... he would be.
"I. Am. Ancient." She said in a clipped tone, "and I endure All."
She sat back atop the obsidian throne at the heart of her tower. The clash of metal upon stone resounding. Here, she was at the apex of her power, and here he knelt. No more than a scroll and slate to protect him.
"Tell me your name storyteller and I will tell my story."
"You know-"
"Yes. Your true name." She stated, her voice level and unconcerned. "In its totality and with no further dissent. In due time you will find it an equitable exchange."
"Yes, Milady, I am Lakhmu Berosus Balashi Alcalde, but I am known as the Librarian."
"Lakhmu" She said, the paired syllables rolling from her tongue with a touch of power. He shivered and cringed, the word causing him a pain he barely reckoned.
"Good. It will suffice, now to begin the tale." She said as he recovered. "It is no short tale, you will need more than just that single scroll"