What a bore...

To my dismay and utter discomfiture, Gregoire didn’t lead me to the library first, instead making the rounds of the local stores, butchers, smithies, etc.

Worst, we never left the place with anything. He went there simply to place orders and verify merchandise, which meant that except for some samples here and there, the whole time was spent talking… and waiting.

After some time, I barely stood awake.

It seemed that a helmet-wearing youth was as trivial as air, since not a single person even asked about it. It was almost as if I wasn’t there.

[…]

Gregoire wearing the ID scopes was squinting at the leather in front of him, “Mmmm..” he thought out loud, seemingly in the process of ‘feeling’ the leather.

“Do we really have to do this? Have I ever delivered bad quality?” A gruff middle-aged man whose scalp was riddled with bald spots asked.

“Hmmm, do not take it personally, my good sir. Since I have undertaken this matter, I have to make sure that you did not try to swindle me. As unlikely as it is...”

“Mmph,” the man complained as he paced the room, still paying me no mind, waiting for Gregoire to be done.

As I witnessed the scene from afar, it finally clicked.

Wait.

‘I can just leave?’

Gregoire was so focused on this matter, and the man clearly did not care if I was there or not.

I could go to the library or whatever it was called.

As I resolved to do that, I shacked toward the entrance… making sure not to show my back.

I observed Gregoire to see if he would notice anything.

He didn’t, so focused that I left the building totally unhindered.

Freedom.

Adventure.

The light in my eyes lit, as I grinned stupidly — snickering.

The world’s arms were wide open.

I still stood out like a sore thumb, and this world was still too big for me. But after last time’s escapade, it didn’t feel as threatening anymore.

I wandered, repeating the part of the name I could pronounce — Moonlit. I suddenly rejoiced at how decrepit it looked, its desolate state making it difficult to miss.

And thus, soon I found it.

The light burned in my eyes, as I tried my best to mouth the words hung on the wall, “Moonlit Atheneum”, “Atheneum”, “Atheneum” ….

“Atheneum, where does that word come from?”

I wanted to know, I needed to know.

I approached the building and walked around the cone.

A sense of levity rose inside me at the incoherence of this situation.

Literally, anyone could enter here and steal books.

As I stepped inside, I was met with a pleasant surprise.

Despite the exterior of the building whose appearance left much to be desired, the insides sparkled and in the air danced notes of fresh paper and … Helorist?

The bookshelves of which there were many were all properly maintained. The inside was roomy. To my right, what seemed like study desks with tables and chairs arranged neatly around the area.

To the left was a colossal desk, with lots of paper and a chair.

And right into one of the alleys of bookshelves stood a towering man. A tall and burly man, with a cleanly kept beard and a pair of glasses. Despite how unlikely it seemed, this man had to be the librarian of this place.

He seemed to be putting back a book that he had just read when he turned his head toward me.

“Uh?” He said raising his voice.

“When did this runt enter here?”

‘Did he really say that out loud?’

“Hey brat, lost your mom?”

“Hey! don’t call me a brat!”

“What should I call you then? Brat?”

“I...”

What should he call me? I hadn’t received a name yet, and it wasn’t like I wanted him to call me Jeremy. So I said nothing.

“Uh, turned mute now?”

“I came to read!”

“Ah— would you even be able to understand? And while we’re at it, what’s with that weird helmet?”

“Nothing of your concern,”

“Hahaha, little brat! Alright since you won’t give me your name I’ll call you Helmet!”

“Hey don’t go picking a name by yourself!”

“Well give me a name to call you with, Helmet”

“Tch... never mind. Can I read a book?”

“HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.” he laughed, his roar making the bookshelves shake. Similar to Gregoire, his energy was weak but threatening — as if it was concealed.

The thought made me shudder, but I pushed the idea out of my mind.

“So earlier you weren’t jesting? You really came to read?”

“How old are you?”

“f-... five...”

I knew I wouldn’t be taken seriously.

Still, his reaction seemed much overkill.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA.” he laughed again.

And continued laughing like that for a good while, one... then two… then a good three minutes of boisterous laughter. Tired of waiting, I just approached, snatched a book out of the nearest bookshelf, and sat at one of the tables.

He kept laughing for a good while, unaware of his surroundings.

Soon though,

He caught his breath with a noisy inhale and came back to his senses.

“Hey, where did he go?”

His voice pierced through the bookshelves.

As he left the alley and saw me he sighed to himself.

“Phewww... precocious brat aren’t we.”

“As much as I’m in favor of helping the future generation, I can’t let you borrow books without a guardian, especially since you’re what age again?”

“Five.”

“Bwahahahahahahaha” He chortled this time — his laugh a tiny bit tamer.

‘Why the hell is that so funny?’ I thought peevish.

“Phew phew phew, okay okay.. come back with a guardian and I’ll let you borrow books.”

“Oh I don’t need to borrow, I just want to read.”

He looked at me

“No — wait — you were serious about that?”

He stroked his beard as he approached me. As he stood near me I had to look up so high I feared for my neck, but as if pitying me, he soon sat on the ground.

“What are you reading?” he asked his pitch rising at the end.

“Hmmm… I am not quite sure” I replied perplexed.

While I had read most of the family archives and as such felt that there wouldn’t be much I wouldn’t be able to read, this book I had picked at random was filled with jargon and terminology I didn’t understand.

So as he asked, I closed the book and looked at the cover.

“Mmmh… Ras Estrias: Essays of the occult”

“Ohh you picked Ras Estrias... yeah no way in hell you’d understand this one.”

“Uh, what do you mean?” I asked maybe a tad bit hurt.

“No no no little Helmet, I am not mocking you. Unless you have a ton of foundational knowledge there’s no way you’d understand this, this would be a good challenge even for most scholars. And its writing is so dry.”

“Mmph alright alright… you know what!?” He said crossing the gigantic logs that served as his arms.

“For making me laugh so much tell me what you’re looking for, I’ll see if I can help you find it.”

He said a big smile on his face.

“Really?”

“Yes yes, just ask away!” he nodded confidently.

“Then… would you have a book about how to fix a broken core?”

His eyes widened for a bit, and then the smile faded slightly, “Well that explains that.”

“Sadly, I am not sure if such a thing exists. But well give me a second.”

At his words, I subconsciously sank into my chair.

This librarian had certainly read a lot more than me and had enough confidence in his knowledge to give me such an offer; even he said there was likely no such thing.

I inwardly sighed, before looking back at the words on the page of this Ras Estrias. I didn’t understand much more the second time, but I took note of the words I didn’t understand and waited for the man to come.

A few minutes passed before he came back, a pile of 10 books so thick they could hardly be called books, plus another he carried on his head.

“These 10 are the few I’d consider entry-level on the subject of cores. They won’t be easy to read but they might give you an idea.”

“As for this one” — he gracefully removed the book from his head, blew on it before putting it on the table — “this is an introductory tome to a mostly forgotten art.”

At the words forgotten my eyes widened in anticipation.

And as if he realized his mistake, he corrected himself.

“Uh? No, I should probably reformulate that, I have no idea how you’ll use this in real life, but it was forgotten for a reason… an interesting concept but much too demanding and rigid for anyone to apply. Still, this might help you.”

He put the book in front of me.

The book seemed old, its leathery cover ripped in some places.

When I looked at him, he shook his head sideways, “I received it in that state, don’t look at me like that.”

On the cover were inscribed the words, “Introduction to the Art of Scriptural Magic”

“Uh.. what? I got a broken core.”

“Yes yes, I figured that much; still read it, or don’t if you don’t want to. The choice is yours.”

After having said that he left, and went to sit at the reception desk pulling from under the table a book, I squinted: “Advanced Mastery: How To Grow Flowers & Refine Them”.

‘That sounds interesting too…’

I slapped my cheeks.

‘Focus. Focus!’

I looked at the book in front of me, the door to a world of Forgotten Knowledge, and then put my best feet forward.

Here goes nothing.

#

Woah

woah

woah

WOAH

WHAT!?

As I read, and reread, and reread the same pages over and over.

Over and over,

I realized how many words I didn’t know.

The writing was simpler than Ras Estrias, and less dry, enough that I was actually able to concentrate.

And while I didn’t understand everything…

While I didn’t understand most of it.

The overall idea, the overall concept.

“T-t-this is it...”

“Scriptural magic... yes this is it!!”

I stood up from my chair and ran to the man sitting at the table.

“Sir, could you lend me a dictionary”

As I asked that, he lifted his head from his book and looked at me as if trying to remember who I was. “Oh Helmet, yea for sure... and while we’re at it you can call me, Brunz.”

As he said so, he spun on his chair, rolled across his wide desk, and pulled something from a drawer hidden from my sight. Then a few seconds later, he slid over the counter a dictionary.

“There it .. you probably won’t be able to carry this.”

He slid to my side of the counter — book still in hand — and looked at me longly.

“So how is the reading going?” He asked, banging lightly the book on the top of the helmet.

“Oh yes, it’s amazing! I don’t get all of it, but the premise... if this works... I got a solution!”

“Heeeeey hold up kid, not to rain on your parade but...” He said turning his face darkening a bit, before reverting quickly to a smile.

“Heh nevermind that you might figure out something”

As he said so I leaned my head to my side in thought, trying to figure out what he meant, before starting to walk back to my chair.

Brunz followed me, slaloming between the tables on his personal chair the big brick in his hand, and as he arrived slammed it on the table as if he had won a race.

“So how far did you go?”

“Page 2…”

“Eh wouldn’t even have expected that much,” He said, with a chuckle.

“Is your father some kind of scientist? How come you’re here on your own?”

“Ugh — uh— that’s complicated… but my guardian’s name is Gregoire”

“Gregoire?”

His eyes seemed to flash a light of recollection.

“Wait are you Jeremy?”

“I guess so?”

“Wait you’re Gregoire’s son!”

“BWAHAHAHAHAHA”

“You should have said that earlier, didn’t peg Gregoire for being the literary type?” He said as he stroked his beard.

“I guess the apple fell far from the tree this time..”

“Why the helmet though?” He asked.

I ddin’t answer.

As he saw I didn’t answer, he was tactful enough to not pursue.

Still…

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Silence.

I asked in an effort to remove the awkwardness of the situation.

“How did you two meet?”

“Oh, I don’t even remember, we go back far.” as he said that he blanked for a bit, his eyes becoming light-less as if his brain had shut off for a bit before he woke up.

“Oh yes.. actually we don’t go that far... or do we? Oh,” — he groaned — “I am not good with people. But he’s a good pal, we talk together every so often...”

“… I didn’t think he’d be the kind of person to let their kid roam alone.”

I interjected, telling him that I had sneaked out and when I did so. Then again he laughed.

‘Ok this is starting to get annoying’

“Hahaha I am really starting to like you, a scholar needs at least that much spunk”

“Well how about I give you a primer on Scriptural Magic?”

“Really?” I asked.

“You really need to stop doing that, yes really!”

And thus I got a primer on Scriptural magic and magic in general, my first introduction to magic on a theoretical level.

“For the average person, magic is as natural as breathing and it’s not something they think much about. Besides circulating mana in their body and using the magic they can intuitively use, there’s nothing more they need to know and nothing much they can do. In that regard, noble families have a tremendous advantage, having a lot of heritage and yadda yadda yadda — they have to become powerful. The heritage makes it so they have formal mana training and become quickly much stronger than us, their plebeians’ counterparts. Still, even them, are limited…”

“… The essence of magic, after all. Its arcane are largely useless for even the most erudite of mages.”

“Ok maybe.. kid, let’s say Hapsos came to you —”

“This might not be the most appropriate example to give a 5 years old hahaha, but I can’t quite think of a bett—”

“Ask away.”

He looked at me for a long time, his eyes narrowing a bit, “Hey, don’t do that.”

I swallowed.

A few seconds passed in silence before he broke the tension.

“Well well well,” he continued “Let’s say Hapsos comes to you and proposes to tell you when and how you’ll die. You can’t change it no matter how and you can’t tell anyone about it, would you hear it?"

“Yes.”

He looked at me taken aback. “Why?”

“To know.”

He looked at me and blinked repeatedly.

“Amusing, amusing, amusing,” he said calmly, a tame smile on his face.

“Well let’s continue then.”

He cleared his throat.

“So what is scriptural magic?

The language of magic, simply.

A language through which one can “program” magic, and set what would be loosely called magic circles. They were originally circles, but it was found out later that it was possible to create different shapes too — and the name just stuck.

Mana circles have three substantial advantages, for three ridiculously significant disadvantages.

They use no mana from the scripturalist. This is not quite true, but it’s true enough that for the average person the drainage would be almost unnoticeable.

The second is, that it could be set to activate upon a trigger. One proficient mage could theoretically set one trap and wait for their mark to fall in it.

The third was that, since the magic was embedded in the characters themselves — theoretically — one could throw high-level spells with complete disregard to elemental affinity.

So why would such great magic be abandoned in favor of natural abilities?

First, the ridiculous complexity of the language. The beginner circles are beasts of 2 yards by 2 yards and produce pretty lackluster effects for the time they require, as for more complicated spells? Their width or diameter depending on the shape can easily reach 20 yards and more. Combine their ridiculous size, and the richness of the logographic language and you end up with teams of mages having to work on one circle instead of our earlier hypothetical wizard.

Second, while they could somewhat be visually camouflaged through foliage or dirt, the fact they drew mana from their environment and a pretty massive amount at that to maintain their form meant that anyone worth his salt could easily feel something wrong, if not see the floating mana particles due to their sheer concentration.

Finally, and the nail in the coffin was the fact that due to their sheer size, errors were likely to creep in. And thus death or injury was not uncommon. If a team of mages worked on a circle, all it took for things to go awry was one traitor deliberately writing the wrong character, or a stupid mistake changing the conditions of activations or the qualities of the spell used.

Every scholar knows of this magic, after all, who could call themselves a scholar if they don’t understand the essence of magic. But for the average person? This is at best mildly-interesting trivia.”

I disagreed.

Mildly interesting trivia?

This knowledge felt like a breath of fresh air.

I had found it.

The first hint towards a solution.