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So this is the archivist's office. The bookshelves are tidy and various wondrous artifacts are on display. But the archivist isn't here. You leaf through the journal on the table, noting the latest entry:
I still haven't acclimated to the unpredictable nature of Salin's tower. Shifting rooms, expanding halls, new doors. Fortunately this wing of the academy is more stable, except for the scholar's wing. Something foul has taken hold there.
A scholar's wing. Could that be where the archivist went? Toasty yawns and seems to be relaxed under your arm. Time to leave.