A Mentor's Private Apprentice

These apprentices might not realize that Scribe Scroll would slow both their learning and advancement, but copying scrolls consumed not only time but stamina, and there was also a chance of failure.

There were quite a few wealthy people in the academy, and many were unwilling to waste their precious time on this.

Thus, scroll trading among apprentices had always been popular.

Faerûn was a world where true gods existed. As children of the Goddess of Magic, they had to attend church services on Sundays. The academy required everyone to submit all their spell scrolls by 18:00 on Saturday at the latest, so quite a few apprentices were buying them up now.

Although academy regulations priced one scroll at three gold coins—the cost of three first-circle parchment sheets—for most apprentices, ready-made scrolls could not be valued that way.

Few were willing to copy scrolls, while many were not. Scarcity drove up the price of ready-made scrolls. Besides wasted time, there was another loss: parchment from a failed transcription lost all magical power. In an apprentice's hands, it was nonrenewable trash and could basically only be exchanged for one silver coin at logistics.

Yet very few apprentices actually did that. Most would rather use the stuff to wipe their asses than turn it in for recycling.

Even Du Pont, back when he had been dirt poor, would not have done that.

Because it would expose his true skill level.

The academy's curriculum was already demanding. Everyone had to use their breaks to copy scrolls, and for first- and second-level apprentices, copying ten scrolls was practically weight training.

Under such circumstances, recycling scrolls proved, first, that one lacked money, and second, that one's transcription success rate was frighteningly low. It would then be difficult to win a teacher's favor again.

If one could become a mentor's private apprentice, there would be no need to complete academy assignments—only the mentor's tasks. One could also browse the mentor's private notes and precious collections, and the speed at which one mastered magic would surely increase greatly.

The academy had such lucky people every year. These apprentices were either exceptionally intelligent or, provided their intelligence was adequate, handsome or beautiful enough. Of course, being from an illustrious family or rich enough to bribe a mentor was also an option.

It was not quite a meteoric rise, but with a mentor's connections and network accelerating one's studies, becoming a formal mage would absolutely not be a problem as long as one's innate qualities were sufficient. The odds of becoming a High-level Mage in the future would also increase greatly.

Even if one could not reach that point, a mage who mastered fourth- or fifth-circle spells would still be enough to earn recruitment by major nobles or even kings, crossing class boundaries to live a leisurely life free of rat-racing.

Thinking of this, Du Pont could not help muttering to himself.

Logically speaking, while his intelligence was utterly unremarkable among apprentices, his looks were definitely outstanding. Why had no mentor taken a liking to him?

After thinking for a moment, Du Pont found his answer.

High-level Mages were scarce to begin with, and there were only a few in his academy. There seemed to be only one female mentor.

People like the Half-elf doctor in the infirmary—mentors around levels six to ten—were the majority.

But there were nearly three hundred apprentices in the academy. To receive such treatment, one either had to be a genius among geniuses or a highly gifted handsome man or beautiful woman. Examples like him, with nothing but a pretty face, were almost nonexistent.

If he wanted to become a mentor's private apprentice, his intelligence would probably have to improve another step before he had a chance to sell himself.

Thinking of that sent a chill through Du Pont.

Forget it. There was still plenty of time. No matter what, it had not come to that yet.

It was just a waste of such outstanding gifts.

When the first class ended, Du Pont looked at the notice that he had gained 20 Experience Points and that his proficiency in the spell Mechanized Mind had increased by 4%, his face twisted in pain.

Damn it, spacing out actually affected the Experience Points I gained. I need to be more serious next class.

You gained 24 Experience Points. Your understanding of the spell Fox's Cunning has reached 70%. You may practice it on your own to accelerate your comprehension of the spell.

Du Pont let out a sigh of relief. As long as he did not slack off, he would still improve.

It was just that the 424/2000 Experience Points gave him a headache.

He could only take it slowly.

But just as he was about to go eat with Charles, Du Pont spotted a familiar figure.

It was a pure white skeleton holding a sign with Du Pont's name written on it.

Were the doctors here really this conscientious?

Thinking of the academy's true nature, Du Pont felt uneasy, but they had kindly helped him avoid submitting scrolls for a week. So he obediently followed.

It was still the Half-elf doctor named Sophie from yesterday, except there was now a mature woman beside her, with fair skin, a suit of silver-white chainmail, and a halo above her head.

She looked somewhat like an angel from his previous life, except she had no white wings behind her. The halo above her head, however, shone brightly like a lightbulb.

This was a Divine Bloodline, also commonly called an Aasimar.

It was said that Divine Bloodlines carried the blood of gods, demigods, or certain mythical creatures. But unlike their ancestors, apart from living somewhat longer than mortals and generally having better looks, Divine Bloodlines did not differ much from mainstream humanoid races in talent or physical ability.

However, it was said that their noble blood often drew the attention of fiends. Some Cultists who worshipped demons captured Divine Bloodlines and offered them to demons in exchange for greater blessings. Therefore, most Aasimars hid the halos above their heads in daily life. If they revealed this trait, it was usually somewhat deliberate.

This was not because they were showing off their good ancestors, but because all Aasimars shared one trait.

They were all of the good alignment.

One could say they were even purer than paladins under the current system.

Yet the doubts in Du Pont's heart only deepened.

Although the Aasimar before him was broad-minded, and those of good alignment would not commit monstrous evils, that did not mean they would necessarily obey the law.

For example, those chaotic good rangers showed no mercy with their scimitars and bows when striking down evil or defending their homes.

"Please sit. Du Pont, this is Priest Dorothy." The doctor's face showed no extra emotion. After studying his expression, she took out a delicate wand about two feet long and touched it to his wrist. A few seconds later, she said, "Your aura is a little stronger than yesterday, but your body is still extremely weak."

Du Pont nodded in agreement, his face full of confusion. "I think I accidentally hit my head before. Whether in class or copying scrolls, I feel groggy and muddled."

Sophie looked toward the priest beside her. Dorothy nodded, picked up the Seven-Star Holy Symbol around her neck, and was about to cast a spell when Du Pont hurriedly spoke. "Wait... Does this cost money?"

Sophie said nothing. Dorothy, standing beside her, smiled and raised one finger. A gentle radiance emerged from her body, and even her robes flowed with golden light. Her smooth golden hair turned silver-white, while her already captivating eyes gleamed with a mesmerizing luster like molten gold. Specks of starlight flowed from them, glittering like stars.

"Although The Lady of Magic asks for nothing in return, we cannot take her blessings for granted. Only with gratitude in our hearts can The Lady grant us her next blessing and forgiveness."

Du Pont had originally wanted to haggle and see if he could pay less, but when he saw this scene, he only felt his mind grow truly muddled, like a lump of paste. He could not even think.

The priest's sacred bearing made it seem as if The Lady herself had descended upon the world. His knees went weak, and he only wanted to prostrate himself before her.

But a voice in Du Pont's consciousness kept warning him that something was wrong.

"Charm Person has taken effect, right? Have him come over."

"It took effect, but this handsome little guy isn't very obedient." Dorothy sounded somewhat surprised, and Sophie was puzzled as well.

Mages were generally not physically impressive, but their tendency to use their brains made their wills rather strong, and they were quite experienced at resisting mental spells. Yet this tiny apprentice, weakened in body and listless in spirit, had actually managed to resist a formal priest's divine spell. That was rather interesting.

After all, the divine spell had not failed. So long as Charm Person remained active, even one's father's murderer could be bewitched into a close friend, losing all hostility. As long as he was not made to harm himself or violate his own will, he could be forcibly controlled until the spell expired. It was an extremely useful enchantment spell.

Du Pont felt no hostility toward the two women. Dorothy was a Divine Bloodline, and Du Pont was a believer of the Goddess of Magic. Under normal circumstances, he should have been obeying her every word right now, clinging to her thigh and confessing his sins. Yet this little apprentice had resisted.

Even a fifth-level mage might not have been capable of that.

The two exchanged glances. Sophie shrugged, while Dorothy pursed her lips in slight displeasure. Only after issuing several commands and finding that the little apprentice was still fairly obedient did she relax and cast a second divine spell.

Second-circle divine spell: Detect Thoughts.

This apprentice's physical weakness could be explained by long-term poor eating habits. Feeding him more nutritious food would make him normal enough. But the injury to his head was not as simple as the bump he claimed it was.

"Look at me."

Azure light flowed from the priest's eyes. Du Pont's confused gaze met hers, but after several minutes, Dorothy ended the spell and rubbed her dry, exhausted eyes.

"Nothing unusual has happened in this guy's life over the past month... No, this kid seems to be a closet exhibitionist. Sophie, what is going on with your academy? Whether mentors or apprentices, every one of them is strange in one way or another."

"What kind of good people could come to this academy? Any capable normal person would have been picked up by the capital long ago. Besides, there aren't many normal people among mages to begin with." Sophie shrugged, then put on a pair of thin leather gloves. "Come on, help me take this kid's clothes off."

"Ah?"