Though I didn't have long before work, my first action upon returning to Wilton's library was to look up Master Thorne.

He was, quite simply, a genius. He had joined the guild at fifteen, made Learned and created his first artifact at sixteen, and soon after invented his first spell. He was a Senior Scholar by twenty. Nevertheless, he shocked the guild when at twenty-three he won the Solarian Scholarship Prize 'for contributions in the field of alchemy.' This international achievement, the subject of many a youthful daydream, was so prestigious and challenging it frequently accompanied the conferral of the rank of Master, as was the case here.

The article was dated two years ago, making him twenty-five now. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to so much as skim a bibliography of his published works. As I hurried out, my mind was still spinning from what I'd read (and lack of sleep, probably). Though it was strange to say of someone older than me... considering his accomplishments, he was so young! I reflected I'd probably never met anyone more brilliant before in my life.

But even he hadn't been able to cobble together a correspondingly brilliant prototype in the one night we'd had. Oh, we had finally achieved something functional, which was impressive enough, thanks in great part to some enormous unwieldy device he'd brought in after giving up on fiddling with his OmniOrb. This proved capable of scanning entire books, which coupled with his high-quality mana potions made storing Skills significantly faster, easier, and smoother. We'd then slapped a questionnaire together and run it through a few basic tests, and I'd agreed to try it out today.

However, I had... significant reservations regarding the results thus far. Furthermore, any other plan dropped out the window the moment the first client walked in, feeling anxious and in want of reassurance. I saw right away crudely asking him for his goal or Skill Set would likely cause him discomfort or even to clam up.

Instead I ignored the OmniBook -- new name tentatively pending -- and eased him gently into confessing he knew he wasn't a usual adventurer but was trying to overcome his fears. In the end, he realized he already knew his own Path, although knowing wasn't the same as walking it.

After I'd heaped encouragement onto him and seen him off, I was ready with the OmniBook for my next meeting... and then set it aside, again. I hadn't even noticed I was tailoring my approaches to each of my clients until I was told to try applying a one-size-fits-all questionnaire.

Probably the difference wouldn't have been so jarring on my first day, when I'd been new and my clients easy. But I was now faced with a wide range of individuals that should best be handled individually. I had the most difficulty with those who didn't know what they wanted; or who lacked distinguishing traits, interests, and experiences; or who refused to reveal their Skill Sets or answer personal questions; or who stupidly or conveniently forgot or mistook important details.

My most troublesome client was a noble -- of course? -- who managed to combine all four of the above. First he revealed his nobility as though gifting a great secret, as though slapping on an unworn peasant costume fooled anybody, and then he tried to assume a different lord's name. He was actually offended I disbelieved him! Never was I more grateful for my magic mask, effectively shielding me from his aggravated bluster. (He left in a huff eventually.)

I stood by each of my decisions in the moment, but as I returned to the Master Scholar in Numbra I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. It bottomed out as I was forced to admit, "I didn't test the OmniBook today."

"Ah." He swung the full force of his attention onto me, peering over his mana-glinting glasses. "Why?"

I'd started preparing an excuse-ridden speech on the way over, but his genuine curiosity caught me off guard. So I said simply, "I believed I could offer better service without."

"Hmm." He nodded absently, already turning back to his work. "Do you think the LoreBook might have helped any of them? What do you think of the new name?"

I paused and blinked. Somehow I'd nearly forgotten his distractible thought patterns and how he always rushed his words out, as though he couldn't bear wasting extra seconds on normal speech. Thinking of what once might've been Duni's name, I said, "I like it. And maybe?"

"Why don't you try filling out the questionnaire like you're today's clients? Oh, wait a moment, let me transfer some updates."

I breathed out in relief. He clearly didn't hold my priorities against me.

As the evening progressed, I felt more horrified than vindicated by the current state of our LoreBook, which... well, thank mana no client was seeing this. Master Thorne was amused rather than offended or similarly appalled, assuring me this was the norm. "We have a basic working prototype," he said. "It's always grand in theory and unsightly in practice at the beginning."

As it was explained to me, the LoreBook was capable of connecting concepts and learning from experience. Keywords I inputted when filling in the questionnaire were processed through its internal word association maps to calculate outputted suggestions. For example, if I (as a pretend client) wrote my goal was to become a better adventurer, it would pick up the keyword 'adventurer.' Then if I wrote I loved birds or bird-watching, it would run through all Paths associated with these two concepts of 'adventurer' and 'birds.' Finally, once I'd finished the questionnaire, it would present me with the greatest possible variety of best matches for my perusal or elimination.

In practice, the Paths displayed for my timid bird-loving client were for anti-air archery, flight, singing, travel... ah, migrating... nesting, and caging. If I kept eliminating options or flipping to view more suggestions, I eventually did come upon more likely Paths such as for taming or eye enhancement. But I wondered if the bird-lover might not be scared away and possibly scarred for life before that point.

Also, the LoreBook had a tendency to treat every piece of information as valuable and equal, whereas I knew from personal experience many clients just liked to talk about themselves. If they liked flowers, or watching plays, or long walks on the beach, then good for them, but that didn't indicate they should consider a rare Path combining combat and gardening, acting, or sand-shaping.

"But maybe they should consider it," Master Thorne said. "Extra options don't cost them anything. There's really a combat Path for acting?"

"More than one, and they can be surprisingly powerful. Have you heard of that Named Mime? I just worry the average client might be daunted by such, um, outlandishly extreme suggestions presented as their first ones."

"The algorithm does favor variety... We were trying to avoid too many similar Paths, but maybe..."

I'd thought the prototype we'd hammered out that first night would lessen my subsequent workload, but instead it was just the start. We discussed other issues, agreeing to weigh different questions differently and add more significance to repetitions, such as if the user listed 'birds' under their interests and 'bird-watching' in their hobbies. While the Master adjusted the formula, I posed as a succession of clients, viewed the given suggestions, and invariably offered up my very different choices. Then he updated my LoreBook and we discovered what new issues had arisen while old ones lingered.

Obviously, we would not be sleeping again. I drank another of the Master's personally brewed potions; he downed a number through the night, timed to his alarms, the process so automatic he didn't so much as pause in his work. He seemed to enjoy chatting and wasn't shy about telling me when he did need to concentrate, so I gave into my curiosity and asked, "If you don't mind me asking, what are all the potions for?"

"To keep up my constant positive energy," he answered promptly.

"Oh." In that case, I was properly grateful, as their secondhand beneficiary. "Um, are there side effects?"

"The cost? They're not cheap or easy to make." He glanced at me briefly. "Also, some would see them as unnatural."

"Because they're brewed?"

"Because I'm constantly awake, productive, and happy. As though I should choose to experience negative emotions or be less than my best self. Did you know some people still consider immortality undesirable...?"

As he continued on in this vein, I had to admire and envy his self-assurance. Personally, I might not have needed sleep, but already I... missed it or something. Master Thorne was probably right this was an irrational habit better broken. On the other hand, I couldn't expect to benefit from his potions indefinitely.

I'd thought he was brewing whenever he left for extended periods of time, but as I discovered when he initiated a large data transfer, he was sometimes in meetings with Inova. "Um, it's not odd we're working separately on a collaborative project?"

"Inova works with several super-secret sources they take all these paranoid steps to protect," he said, "Proxies, pseudonyms, limiting assistant access... I haven't even met anyone aside from the project manager."

Which was how I found out he wasn't this project's manager. Apparently, the multinational corporation had somehow salvaged, stolen, or traded for golem technology -- or something remarkably similar -- and only recruited outside experts once they were confident they could keep whatever original find or source they had to themselves.

This all sounded too cloak-and-dagger for my tastes, but Master Thorne was unbothered. "I enjoy alchemy because I can make all my potions myself, but artifacts are rarely built using only a single person's work, not when we're seeking to make a product that's replicable and marketable to the general public. I just join whatever projects interest me whenever I'm free, and if I can't accept the terms, I leave." He glared down briefly at the dismantled pieces of his OmniOrb. "No, they can keep whatever they're hiding in their hovering headquarters to themselves. What frustrates me is their insistence on packing so much into so little space."

I'd only glanced briefly at the innards of our project before realizing there was no point. I'd studied complex artifacts and runic functions and didn't consider myself a total ignoramus on the subject, but these runes were packed in such dense layers as to make casual inspection pointless. It wasn't a matter of personal ignorance but general inaccessibility.

If I was frustrated just looking, I couldn't imagine how he felt working with this. Staring at the various parts scattered across the table now, I asked, "How many layers even is that? I've counted at least thirty?"

"Good eye," he said with approval. I felt a warm flush rise from my chest into my cheeks. "Thirty-three. You realize how ridiculous that is?"

"Why don't you create one enormous data repository and just link the many LoreBooks to it?" I asked. "Wouldn't that solve the problem of data storage and compression?"

He nodded along, smiling a little. "Yes, we did think of that. It's a good idea and has the added advantage of automatically collecting, storing, and aggregating data for us, but we ultimately decided against for three main reasons. First, we would create a single point of vulnerability we'd need to constantly defend against thieves, saboteurs, and other opportunists."

"Surely it isn't that valuable?" I protested. "And couldn't you just keep it at headquarters?"

"You'd be surprised what some people are willing to do. Even if it was worthless monetarily, stealing anything publicly from Inova or us Scholars is probably enough to upgrade a thieving or notoriety-based Skill. And the Librarian is incredible but not invincible. Do you know where our headquarters is? Its secrecy is its first layer of protection. If every LoreBook is connected to a data repository within and might be traced back to it, however..."

I gulped. "Oh."

"Besides, it would be Inova's problem, not ours. They dislike when it hurts their bottom line, and that's only the first issue. Second, the same link that could be theoretically used to trace the repository's location could also be cut off, such as from natural fluctuations in mana or some types of warding. It would also be impossible to scan dungeon monsters, different dimensions and all."

He cleared his throat, suddenly and uncharacteristically... self-conscious? "Third, it's embarrassing to admit but we're working off an existing template, using technology we don't entirely understand. I strongly suspect we're using former golems that possessed localized functions. As much as we like to discuss and pretend we're capable of making drastic alterations... well, we are probably saving ourselves years of frustrating effort by working with what we have."

This was typical of him, not volunteering information until I asked something tangentially related and then sharing freely even the dirty details. When I commented on this, he said, "I'm not hiding anything, but I've been working on this for months. I could tell you any number of possibly relevant things. For example, you realize in the best-case scenario we would put Path Advisors mostly out of business?"

He said it so carelessly I just blinked before turning to stare at him. It occurred to me while I as a Skill Advisor would be happy to find myself replaced by an artifact, maybe not all my fellow colleagues would think the same way.

"Oh, don't look so glum. We Scholars aren't Mercenaries, to count coins before progress. Besides, our LoreBook looks to be in no danger of replacing you anytime soon."

This was... unfortunately?... true. As much as its creation process might awe me with its apparent complexity, I had rather the opposite impression of the observable results. I did manage to sneak in a few tests of the LoreBook before my work week concluded, but the results were better left unshared; as far as my clients were concerned, I was simply taking notes.

After that, I was too happy for the chance to catch up on sleep. Master Thorne was generous with his potions, but as he'd warned, I had grown increasingly tired when not in his presence until resorting to napping during meal breaks. Ahh, to return to my room... to a real bed... to sleep for uninterrupted hours...

When I awoke, I reflected I'd only been working on the project for a few days, though it felt so much longer. I exchanged a few words with Senior Rubrik, left a message for my friends if they came calling, and returned to Numbra, using a handy ticket that covered the entire month.

In the following week, I started to feel like my role was more akin to a brute-force solution, adding every conceivable input and output into the LoreBook. In fact, when I posed as a repeat client or close approximation, I found the artifact remembered and included my suggestions... so at least it wasn't time totally wasted.

Per my agreement with the guild, I returned on the weekend, bringing my LoreBook. As we'd adjusted the questionnaire to give users a choice of initial questions, I was usually able to fill it out just as though I were the client. Furthermore, the results weren't awful? I still gave my own advice as usual and wrote these in to update future suggestions, but at least I wasn't cringing every time I read over what was on offer. That was progress, right?

Honestly, what I personally found more interesting and important were my continued conversations with Master Thorne. We were never alone, yet we were the only two speakers. I happened to know Executive Clancy wasn't mute, but she seemingly ignored us on the rare occasions she rotated in. The other Executive was nearly always there, typically standing straight-backed like a butler, and noticeable for my difficulty in noticing him; it wasn't that I couldn't sense him, exactly, but my attention kept sliding off him, impressive and disturbing considering he was one of very few people in the room and right there. Finally, there was Master Thorne's mentee, who had yet to speak a word in my presence.

I was initially taken aback by these others' silences, but I came to appreciate the opportunity this afforded me with the Master Scholar. He was happy enough to answer any questions, telling me he'd spent nearly a decade running errands for an immortal Alchemist until the other agreed to accept him as an apprentice.

"Yes, I invented a spell at sixteen." He laughed, shaking his head. "A cantrip to help prepare potion ingredients. My first artifact? Also to aid with alchemy. I didn't set out to make these things, but my master was and still is a cantankerous old goat who demands perfection, pronto. I needed extra tools simply to survive my apprenticeship."

He then turned the subject around on me. Though gratified by his attention, I found myself rather shamefaced when explaining my accreditation project. I couldn't help feeling... well, like a moocher. First was the blatant copying of other people's books for my compilation, and now Master Thorne and Inova were performing all the difficult work. I might be somewhat convenient, but I was under no illusions my role was any more than that. In fact, I had the sneaking suspicion the guild still hadn't given up hope I would reconsider my choice of mentor.

But Master Thorne only felt thoughtful... the emotion no doubt directed at his work. "Well, if you're already publishing a 'Big Book of Skills,' I don't see why you shouldn't make more 'Big Books' of everything else you've memorized, artifact catalogues and bestiaries, for example. Anyone interested in one will likely buy the whole set for the sake of completeness. Instead of a one-hit wonder, you'll have authored a whole successful series."

I looked at him in wonder. I'd thought of him as something of an absentminded genius, swinging between topics freely, but he was an all-rounded genius after all!

"Also, you can compare notes with what we have. I'd love if you double-checked our database, basically."

I thanked him profusely and meant it, but this was nothing compared to his advice tossed carelessly two days later. We were discussing Scribing Scrolls, whereupon I described my deal with the guild, current efforts, and lamentable stalled progress at creating a reusable one. "Have you tried using reusable Scrolls of your own Skills?" he asked. "And then recreating them?"

I was struck by what he'd said, but at first I managed only, "No. I haven't."

"Why not? Your contract doesn't require you to successfully copy every Scroll you buy, does it?"

"No. It's just..." I flushed, thinking back to the exact contract terms and their amazing generosity. But still... "That seems presumptuous, spending so much money."

"Trust me, the guild can afford it. I know we Scholars tend not to show off our wealth, but the Merchants wish they had our profit margins. I can recommend you a good Scroll store nearby."

While he peacefully continued working, I had to pause to recalibrate. I... I simply hadn't considered it. I had fretted over how I would ever create my own reusable teleportation Scroll for accessing Duni, and this whole time I had an open bank-bag for buying one!

Which I could then leisurely work on copying. It would in truth be incredibly useful for studying and making my own.

My heart raced in excited realization. I could purchase one today, right now! Though actually, any time before the end of February was the same, since I needed at least another visit to Duni the regular way. No, I would wait until I needed a break.

Returning to Wilton for my weekend work, I was disappointed by the LoreBook's continued ineffectualness. Maybe I was too impatient? I took a restorative nap...

...and was woken by Bessie. "Finally caught you!" she exclaimed. "We haven't seen you in ages!"

She gushed over her new gauntlets, which she'd finally bought on her own coin, and I returned the favor by expressing my heartfelt admiration for the Master Scholar. "Oh, he has so much energy, Bessie," I said, "Like you, but all directed at his research. He's incredible."

"But is he cute?" she asked seriously.

"How is that relevant?" I looked at her in exasperation. "Bessie no, did you not hear the part where he made Master at twenty-three?" How was she not appropriately awed by this?

"Yes, I heard he's young and a genius and maybe even more nerdy than you are."

"I couldn't possibly compare to him!"

"Rena, I think it's wonderful you have someone you admire," Bessie said. "Just so long as you don't sell yourself short making comparisons. Remember you're you. You don't need to be anyone but Rowena Loress."

"Aw, Bessie." I hugged her. "You're the best. And for the record, I think you're brilliant too."

But I thought one of the advantages of Empathy was that I already knew the world was full of complicated yet simple, dissimilar yet similar people. Bessie, for instance, was no Scholar, and that was just right; she was true to herself and truly brilliant for it. As Cheating in Combat had said, the only one I should compete with was myself.

Thus, no competing against Master Thorne's proven genius. Perhaps if my grandmother had lived...

But no. Such thoughts weren't healthy or useful.

I had already known the world was full of geniuses, and I was honored to meet and even benefit from one. I started by scanning in bestiaries as he'd suggested, once more using the oversized artifact normally kept in Inova.

Truthfully, I could see why they were keen on upgrading by downsizing it. Despite the Master's complaints size shouldn't matter, I couldn't help looking at that absolute monstrosity of metal and imagining a Gold-Ranked adventurer bringing it out of a storage item and directing it at a monster. No, they would look absolutely ridiculous. It shouldn't matter compared to the benefits of monster identification, but I'd bet gold it wouldn't see as much practical use as it should, which did make the packaging a practical concern.

Comparing what I had on monsters and artifacts with what was already in the database, I was pleasantly surprised to both gain some additional reading and contribute to the existing lore. These outliers tended to involve unsubstantiated rumors rather than proven findings, but I was happy to include them for completeness' sake.

Unfortunately, working on my future books reminded me how much I missed reading. I had never gone this long without before. Even when I had trained for my Silver-Ranking test, even when I'd drilled Fireball, I had taken Meditation breaks in which I read.

I tried staving off my cravings by asking Master Thorne for his recommended reading material... which only made matters worse, as I looked longingly at the list of books that resulted.

Finally, I decided to read just one little thing and chose Master Thorne's very first non-alchemy publication. It was only a short article! Titled 'Great Causes, Great Consequences,' he analyzed the inadvertent effects of society's top Skilled on, well, society. For example, he argued industry and technology as a whole developed slower as a result of the powerful few monopolizing resources. It was typically much more profitable to make limited editions of near-priceless artifacts for the elite instead of selling at affordable prices to the masses. However, this meant many wonders of the world existed and were known to exist, but they could not be replicated much less improved upon.

As I read, I almost felt as though we were in the library workroom while he spoke and gesticulated rapidly, voicing aloud his myriad opinions. Thankfully, the temptation to continue reading evaporated, and I slunk guiltily back from my procrastination.

I later took the time to visit the store he'd recommended and procured a high-quality reusable Scroll of Advanced Teleportation, costing me nearly three large gold and permitting up to four uses daily. My fingers trembled as I handed over the coins, and I wondered if I should invest in anti-theft protection. I was actually a little relieved when the thought of buying other superior Scrolls made warning bells ring in my mind -- with the notable exception of a multi-use Scroll of Mana Shield -- so I couldn't stock up indiscriminately.

The Scroll in my hands was a work of art. I thought I understood all the more Senior Grace's constant striving for impossible perfectionism; this Scroll needed to be absolutely perfect, or as near to it as humanly possible, to achieve its effect. I wondered just how long it would've taken me to manage this on my own.

It felt like cheating. No, it absolutely was cheating. I had not created this Scroll through my own efforts.

But I had what I needed to see Duni again.

I was devotedly inputting and outputting when Master Thorne came striding into the room full of excitement, beyond the norm even for him. He initiated a data transfer and then waited impatiently while pretending to work. Puzzled but unwilling to confess to my Empathy on the spot, I filled out another questionnaire as usual, suppressing my confusion. Then my last answer dissolved, I waited, and... blinked.

I looked up to find him watching. "How?"

"A breakthrough." His lips twisted ruefully. "One of Inova's secret sources. Whoever they are, they're..." He shook his head, trailing off in pensive thought.

Staring at him, I realized even a bonafide genius could feel inadequate compared to other geniuses. There was always someone better, huh? Remembering Bessie's words to me, I said, "I think it's wonderful you have someone who inspires you. And that you're you." As an afterthought, I added, "Even the Maker took nearly a hundred years to become noteworthy."

"Whereas we now scramble over the scraps of his golems, apparently," Master Thorne said. "Imagine if he weren't a reprehensible Contractor, if he used his creations for good... So how is it?"

The updated LoreBook had stopped stretching for every absurd Path pinging a word association. It did not give exactly the same suggestions I would recommend, but... I looked up with a smile. "I can work with this."

Indeed, bringing it into work with me that weekend, I found myself pleasantly surprised all over again. It sometimes offered potential options I hadn't considered. I thought the LoreBook could at the very least be a useful tool for a Path Advisor at this point.

As an independent advisor, it was still hit and miss, with maybe more miss less hit, but it could help. More if the user possessed a modicum of patience and kept browsing options. Happily, it would be exceedingly difficult to run out of suggestions before said patience ran out.

I still thought it had a ways to go, but Master Thorne seemed satisfied. "I've decided to move on to a different project, or rather back to the Woodland Dungeon. My mentor's come calling again; shouldn't keep a persnickety immortal waiting."

"But... so soon?"

"Unless you've changed your mind about becoming my mentee?"

"Um." I tried not to feel awkward. "You know about that?"

"Reginald mentioned it. Something about you clinging to your old mentor and recruiter?" he said airily. "Good for you. You shouldn't forget those who helped get you started. Besides, the mentor-mentee relationship is optional once you reach Learned. I suspect my mentee only hasn't delisted me yet because that would involve speaking to someone."

I could tell he was genuinely unaffected, already looking forward to the future, but I... well, for a moment I regretted what might've been. I was used to people walking into and out of my life. I was a logical person. But I thought of all my brief acquaintances, I would miss him the most.

He would've been an excellent mentor, I was sure. However, I didn't want to trail after him. I wanted to study dungeons and specifically Duni, to help Nailla, to explore the Underworld, to venture out into the field with my friends, and to spearhead my own research. I enjoyed the freedom of working on my Scrolls and Books and projects that I chose.

For all my admiration of him, the choice wasn't really one at all.

But I did so admire him. I enjoyed simply sharing the same space, basking in his energy. He even took the time before leaving to ensure I had what I needed from that monstrously ugly artifact, which nevertheless produced three beautifully bound books compiling all the known Skills, artifacts, and monsters, alphabetically ordered and appropriately credited.

And as he walked most likely out of my life, I could only wish him well. It might be a strange thought to have, but... I was happy somebody like him existed in the world.

As I had no connection to Inova, my role in Project Lorebook ended with Master Thorne's. I spent more time than I'd expected finalizing my 'Big Books,' deciding the exact details of every page and what to use from which source, before submitting all three at once.

Within the first week of March, copies were sold in guilds around the world. As Executive Clancy had predicted, I watched the sales rise without turning a copper. Instead, Senior Rubrik presented me with a Learned pin and his warm congratulations.

This was typical of the Scholars: practical, understated, unobtrusive. No official ceremonies and grand rank presentations here. There'd probably be a tiny notice in the Scholar's Notes, slipped into the very back where nobody noticed.

Fitting for my large and small feelings. I had met the technical requirements, participating -- however barely -- in significant research and achieving a respectable circulation of my publications. I wondered if, someday in the far future, people would read that I'd made Learned at seventeen -- in fact just days from my eighteenth birthday -- and assume I was brilliant, self-possessed, and determined like Master Thorne. If they would think I'd toasted my assured success, instead of doubting whether I was deserving.

Couple that with joining the guild at sixteen and discovering a new Skill at seventeen, I mused, and my accomplishments probably looked impressive on paper. It was so easy to seem a larger person from afar. But then I had worked with Master Thorne up close, and he was every bit as amazing as I might've imagined, even if his real story wasn't all smooth sailing.

So was it just me?

I shook my head at myself. Next time, I vowed, I would earn Senior in such a spectacular fashion there would be no question but that I deserved it. (Of course, it was easy to make such declarations when this was far off in the imaginary future.)

Meanwhile, it was a new month and new rank, opening up new possibilities. My heart fluttered in my chest just imagining.

I wasn't sure which I was more excited for: teleporting into Duni... or exploring the restricted section of the library.