Adrian rubbed his eyes before looking over at the strange magical device that kept track of the position of the sun and moon to tell time, he had been burried firmly in a tome since mid day and now the moon was hanging high in the sky.

The tome was a collection of research and commentaries of an unknown mage written in a mixture of Draconic runes and old high Tiberian, both of which were languages of mind numbing complexity. The mage had been studying the nature of the various forms of magic, their natures, and origins. His research boiled magic down into three basic origins that all forms of magic stem from, Arcane, Divine, and Spirit. Wizard's, sorcerers, and witches all dervived their magic from the Aetherium through various means. For a wizard their magic was drawn from the Aetherium and wielded through spells, algorithms that manipulate raw arcane energy into a desired effect based on the language of the dragons. Their approach to magic was similar to that of a scientist combining various formulas till a desired effect is achieved through repeated research and experimentation.

Divine magic covered any form of magic drawn from the worship of gods or spirits such as shamans, clerics, druids or paladins. Their powers were granted as a direct result of deep seated belief in their gods and channeled through prayer. It was something intuitive in nature limited by its point of origin, a god of death can only grant powers of death and destruction to his followers.

Spirit magic was not truly magic but the power of ones spiritual energy, also known as Qi or chakra. It was a mysterious power that came naturally to warriors, many using it instinctively, those who learned to use it deliberately were a force to be reckoned with. It could make one stronger, increase natural healing rates, heighten senses, or could be projected to affect the minds of ennemies or even allies. The abilities of spirit users vary massively in scope and function. Adrian himself used it unwittingly at times, heightening his sense of battle, preciving an opponents attacks subconsciously before they happen.

What truly drew his intrest was the research on Aether in its raw forms, it's most common form was a pale blue dust that was left over from the casting of spells. This dust could be refined as used to create ink for inscribing spells on parchment, or could be infused into objects for enchanting, though waek it was highly versatile. In it's purest form it was an ethereal blue liquid, it was also it's rarest form only ocasionaly found in small pools in places where the barrier between the primaterial plane and the Aetherium was thin. Such places were rare fonts of power for any mage lucky enough to stumble across such a place, those who did took great measures to hide them from the rest of the world. The most valuable and practical forms of Aether were Aetheric iron and Aetherite crystals, these materials which could only be mined by species naturally resistant to magic, their value as crafting materials and rarity has been known to spark wars when large deposits are found. The crystals were prized for their ability to empower a wizard's spells and were required for the crafting of staves and wands. Aetheric iron was once used to craft legendary weapons many now lost to time, only a few had been forged since the days of Tiberious.

Regardless of the form Aether took it had one common trait, it was highly toxic to species that are not touched by the Aetherium. To a non mage human contact with raw Aether would usually cause euphoria followed by fever, rashes, hallucinations, then finally a painful death if one was lucky. In rare cases it could cause mutations ranging from a simple change in skin tone to the creation of an entirely new species, though most cases of Aether mutations caused horrid mishaped grotesque monstrosities. Even mages were not immune to the substance, they only possesed a hightened tolerance that had to be slowly increased over time. If a mage surpased their tollerance they would fall into a feverish sickness that could cause them to be consumed from within by their own power. Usually minor Aether poisonings were survivable for mages, cases of death from over indulging in the use of magic was rare as a mage would feel fatigued and exhausted the closer they came to the limit of their tolerance. At times repeatedly pushing one's self to the point of minor Aether sickness could be used to rapidly increase ones tolerance and there by capacity to cast more spells.

It was this last bit of information that caused a dark smile to spread across his face, being able to rapidly grow was a great temptation for any individual. Even warriors were known use expensive and rare stimulants produced by alchemists to increase the growth of their physical strength regardless of the risks.

There was a greater problem he needed to overcome before he could even begin to forcibly expand his magical powers. He simply could not draw upon his connection to the Aetheriun, every time he found himself blocked, it was like looking for the sun burried behind a mass of dark coulds. He could sense it's presence but it eluded his every attempt grasp ahold of his arcane energy.

A sigh of frustration escaped his lips as he shut the tome and returned it to the strange foot tall purple skined winged creature that served as the librarian in the novice's area of the tower. It looked at him with its red eyes peering over its to long hooked nose, it was unnerving the way the creature seemed to stare at him unlike the rest of the novices whom it disregarded. If he had to guess it was some form of lesser demonic entity and it could sense the taint flowing through his veins.

He found the life of a novice eerily similar to that of a page's, each day they were made to do menial tasks and live far below their statuses. Unlike many of the others he did not qusetion why they were to do tasks that were below their status. It was simple and ingenious, a method used by knights to weed out the selfish nature of spoiled brats, becoming a knight required a strict adherence to loyalty, honnor, and servitude to one's lord. Their time as novices was designed with the same purpose, it was designed to break the obnoxious arrogance, self importance, and haughty behavior of pampered young mobles who had been given everything in life.

Adrian's father had raised him to be free of the common flaws of the nobility, he was made to understand the privilege of his life and the fragility of that privilege. A common point that the wizened warrior used to make is that the peasantry allowed us to rule over them, in exchange for our protection they paid the taxes used to arm our forces, build fortifications, and roads. He used to say that we must appear before or subjects as humble and wise but also powerful and just, for they are many and we are few.

Many times he told Adrian the story of the fall of the Duke of Morava, a western province of the empire. Morava had experienced a crop shortage in the wake of a war and the peasants had barely enough to survive through the winter. In his arrogance the Duke ignored the coucil of his aids and raised taxes to replenish his forces, with naught to pay he seized their grain. In anguish the peasants turned to an old goddess of the land, the goddess saddened by the tales of their suffering sent her chosen shrine maiden to beseech the Duke to return the food to the starving peasants. He striped the young shrine maiden and raped her before parading her soiled body though the streets of the city before hanging her from the city gates for her audacity to question the rightful ruler of Morava. The goddess was enraged by his actions, she rotted his granaries and sent her servants the great dire wolves of the forrest to cull his herds of cattle.

In retaliation he blamed the peasants for his suffering, they had betrayed him and thus had to be punished, he sent his knights to ransack the countryside burning villages to the ground, slaughtering peasants with impunity. The goddess sent a second of her chosen to see the Duke, he had become an emaciated shell of his former self from months of surving off meager scraps. In her grace she offered him a second chance at mercy if he would but make a pilgrimage to her shrine to beg forgiveness for his actions. The Duke angered but weak had her lashed and thrown from the highest tower in the city. Seeing the fate of the two shrine maidens who had sacrificed on their behalf the peasants who had been gifted with a miracle harvest of wheat by the goddes became enraged. They flocked by the thousands armed with makeshift weapons to the city, the five hundred knights seeing a sea of peasants acompanied by massive wolves attempted to abandon their lord to his fate. Just as the knight's had slaughtered the peasants like they now found themselves upon the butcher's block. The Duke was dragged in chains, naked upon the frozen ground for miles to the goddes' shrine, even still he refused to bow his head to the great wolf. He was decapitated and his head put on display as a warning for future lords, it still sits on display as a skull.

It was a lesson he had taken to heart and understood well, he did not flaunt his wealth or status, save for when he truly needed the power it brought.

Adrian lay down and let sleep take him, darkness gave way to light and he found himself once more facing the seductive dark demonic beauty that was Lilith.