[WP] It was a normal textbook up til page 42, then things got weird.

...

The textbook on the small desk of the camping trailer shifted beneath my hands as I flipped to the next page, my confidence of the material's subject and information more or less accepted as understood, but not without large gaps of the opposite.

I was finally improving, although I questioned how much of my progress might be attributed to memorization of the material in place of real comprehension. Books in this region were rather expensive, and as such I only had one carefully selected from the bargain section of a trading-post's lowest shelves. I pressed on, my eyes scanning carefully further, my brain a poor and inefficient sponge of the knowledge held before it as the light beyond the thick window dimmed.

The night was almost upon the land of Doterra's Northern Territories, evening slipping past the late afternoon with speed. The final traces of sunlight were already fleeing as thick candles found themselves perched on lofted window sills, and taverns were filled aglow by expensive essences of mana. The rich feel of their light almost reminded me of neon signs, though no one alive beyond me would recognize such a reference.

Regardless, outside my experience as those second mentioned light sources were on this particular evening, from the sound of merriment I could consider some small details with reasonable confidence. From my place in the stables, I knew that the closest location, of the 'Oar and Swindler had found itself frequented by a larger population than normal.

Indeed, if I chose to listen, distracting myself from the more important task at hand, I could almost make out the playful sounds of ale being poured from heavy wooden kegs, or the words behind the shouts and conversations. I could even recognize the voices where many of my recently found Guild-blessed companions were undoubtedly partaking in drunken comradely.

If the circumstances allowed, I might have joined them. Unfortunately, the circumstances did not allow.

If I were to measure, in no way metaphorically- but instead by stacking copper upon itself carefully in a precarious but standing tower of wealth: I was up to my eyeballs in debt.

Add that fact and write it down beside my last case of ammunition, and a tank to my rather unique and unsupported vehicle now running dangerously low on fuel: My state of mind was not quite prepared to relax and accept the state of things. If anything, I was in a perspective of the opposite: Projects and ideas were swarming at my mind, but running against firm barriers based in my own shortcomings.

I had all that above and more to worry myself sick over, and though drinking myself into oblivion was a proud and traditional practice by many, I could not accept it.

Truthfully, the act would be a simple decline and slipping slope down towards a rocky bottom: Through leaving tomorrow's problems for tomorrow's me, I would have to give up the few things I still possessed, and that was a lifestyle I had struggled against by my most basic nature for as long as my memory stretched; and as such never quite mastered.

Instead of joining the many voices distant in drunken merry times, I was learning to read, and all too sober for it. Worst of all, I felt I had little choice in the matter, which only made the injustice grow in my mind.

For whatever luck had placed me in a world where language could be comprehended, failed to do the same by means of script and lettering. Beyond the few portions of writing and books present in the hatchback and camping trailer, I was illiterate as a goat-herder from the dark ages.

This fact was akin to an annoying and evasive swarm of flies, that constantly leap in front of my face to block the information once readily available beyond. From store, to sign, to scribbled direction from the hand of an exasperated shopkeeper: I was helpless as a babe should the need to interpret words on paper arise.

And so, much like the worst memories (the likes of which any past the age of schooling might consider naught but an awful gray memory of boredom and unpleasant times) my I'd taken to studying late into the evening by means of headlamp, candle and rechargeable batteries.

A small victory only in the fact of avoiding the cost of wax and wick by means of technology outside the grasp of even the most experienced Mages in this world.

Still, smugness of my tiny victory (one of the few I seemed to be allowed as of late) I never thought I would have to redo the process of learning something so basic. Then again, I'd never expected to awaken in another plane of existence either, and that occurrence had thrown many of my life expectations out the camper window and into disarray.

World jumping, however unexpected and unexplained, was completely outside of my control. I had listed it upon the mental filing of "Issues to review at a later date" and passed it over for the simple fact I lacked any semblance of control over the circumstances. Indeed, even for all my careful conversations and efforts to familiarize myself with the world I now resided, not a single soul had ever heard of such a thing. Not even the wizened Wizards or Battle-Mages who frequented the Adventurer's Guild of Jarl Congrad.

For all the man's ruthless fame, it had done me no good beyond a peculiar form of indentured servitude and a concerning lack of sleep and coin. Nights frequented in the Tavern often meant spending the simple pittance of my careful budgeting on Sola's abnormal appetite- one which strayed from from the folklore and Tolkien genre I'd often imagined those of Elvish descent might follow.

Reliable a companion as she'd been thus-far, Sola ate and drank twice my capacity, and with the recent addition of a strange young boy with a legitimate tail that defied logic (although not much more than anything else in this god-awful and strange world I'd landed) recent weeks had quickly found the purse emptying at a greater rate than which it once filled.

Another page turned beneath my headlamp's lighting, and another still, faint flickering of some cheerful fae floating on by like an acknowledged blur in my eye. From words once completely unfamiliar I was slowly making progress, discerning what was once impossible. The language was oddly similar to English, if English was written backwards, and the letters were scripted in combinations over-top one another.

Still, regardless of my difficulties, I pressed on strong. Tonight, more than any night prior my progress was astounding. As my eyes fell on the forty-first page, nimble fingers lifting an turning onward towards that which followed, I felt a sense of pride. This too would be understood. I thought patiently to myself. This too would be comprehended and conquered, adding a skill to my repertoire most needed in the recent days.

The forty-second page reached the light, and I eyed it pensively, staring at the bright ink that emboldened the title of profound and twisting symbols underlined in a thick black bar of emphasis. Word by word it pieced together, fragments of understanding clicking like puzzle pieces in the dark.

"An Introduction to the workings of Magic."

I sounded the words carefully as they came to me, scanning ahead to the small text below.

"Written by Merlin of the Blue Cloak, Caster of Virtue, and Voice of Dragons."