Mutation

"Mutation was a good idea!"

The earl praised him.

"Thank you for the praise, Grandfather. It was just a little trick, and I got the formula from you. All I did was prepare the potion. It's nothing worth mentioning..."

Borne lowered his head and replied modestly. He wasn't being falsely humble; he meant every word.

Judging from his grandfather's drafts, they were at least a hundred years old, yet the formula was still thirty percent more effective than similar potions on the market today.

The more Borne studied magic, the more he understood just how learned his cheap grandfather was. And this was only a High Arcanist. How much more profound must the knowledge of the Dean, whose name had gone down in history, have been?

"If I hadn't seen the finished product, I'd almost have forgotten that potion I mixed up by accident back then. Now that I think about it, it's been over two hundred years..."

Borne: ...

That humblebrag had come out of nowhere. A formula from over two hundred years ago could still outperform everything on the market.

So the rumor that the Ioulaum House's success was almost entirely thanks to the earl wasn't just flattery...

"Alas... The main problem was that magical-plant cultivation techniques were relatively primitive back then, and we had almost no experience. Although the Wizard Tower was basically complete, and we had an Arcane Garden, we didn't know how to raise seedlings or cultivate magical plants..."

"Getting them to survive was pure luck; dying was the norm. Most magical plants were imported from the Elves. Back then, even mutated herbs in Netheril were considered magical plants. It wasn't worth using mutated herbs to prepare potions, and many formulas were simply impractical at the time, so most were destroyed. This was the first finished potion I ever prepared, so I kept the formula as a memento and stored it away with the manuscript..."

The earl gazed at the potion and reminisced, getting more and more talkative.

Borne knew from his memories of the timeline that Netheril had survived thanks to the Elves, but he hadn't understood the details.

As his grandfather spoke, Borne gradually got the general picture. The Elves had supported the Netherese, but the relationship was clearly one of mutual exploitation. Nothing came for free, especially between different races.

The Elves had helped the Netherese get on their feet, but it seemed they'd gotten plenty out of Netheril in return. Even the Wizard Tower was a cut-down version. If Borne remembered correctly, the Arcane Garden came with basic cultivation functions of its own. They'd even stripped those out. Did they really take everyone for fools?

No wonder Netheril and the Elves gradually drifted apart. After discovering the Scrolls of Netheril, the Netherese went so far as to abandon Elven magic and resolve to develop their own magical civilization.

In truth, the Netherese weren't the first humans the Elves had supported. There were humans in other regions, too, and other races as well. There were plenty of cases where the Elves had helped a people develop its own civilization.

Nor was Netheril the first to try. But all the previous attempts had ended in failure.

After all, the Elves had existed for tens of millions of years before arriving in the world of Toril. How could Faerûn's natives possibly compete with "transmigrators"?

And not just any transmigrators—they were an entire race...

Faerûn's natives had no choice but to cheat!

Borne still felt a little sorry for Wang Mang. Even with the "world daddy" personally stepping in to tilt the scales, a transmigrator could still be ruined.

A few scavengers had supposedly dug up the artifact, the Nether Scroll. Could they have found it without the "world daddy" opening the back door for them?

And once they found it, they didn't even keep it to themselves? (Reading the Nether Scroll would burn your brain.)

They even brought it back and shared it?

It was made of gold! Wouldn't scavengers who found a golden object normally sell it? Instead, they shared it and explored its knowledge together, learning hand in hand, improving together, and marching toward a bright future. What a load of nonsense.

Borne wouldn't believe there was no shady business going on, even if you beat him to death...

"You did well this time!"

Faced with the sudden praise, Borne wasn't overjoyed. Instead, he asked, "I wonder which matter you're referring to, Grandfather?"

The earl smiled warmly but didn't explain. He simply opened his palm, and the potion bottle quickly came apart in his hand.

"???"

Borne stared wide-eyed as the bottle disassembled in the earl's hand, its components reverting to the various materials that had gone into making the potion.

That one trick alone was enough to make Borne utterly impressed. It involved hundreds of techniques, and the earl's powerful mental control and metamagic feats left Borne far behind.

Even so, Borne devoted himself to observing. This level of skill was the product of technique and time. The earl had laid every detail bare before him, making it a lesson of the highest caliber.

Knowledge could be learned, but experience took time to accumulate. A lesson this thorough was nothing less than a passing down of the craft.

In ancient times on Earth, this would have been the equivalent of taking a personal disciple and passing on one's mantle. Sometimes even a son wouldn't get this kind of treatment.

(Viscount Gordon: ...)

As the potion came apart, the ingredients that had already been ground into powder actually returned to their original forms.

[Mending]? [Greater Restoration]?

So that was possible...

Borne's eyes had been opened. He hadn't imagined alchemy and magic could be used this way.

Wouldn't this make it completely impossible to keep a formula secret?

It couldn't be that only his grandfather could do it and nobody else could. That would be self-deception...

Borne's mouth twitched. What's the point of this? There's no way to keep a formula secret...

Wait!

That couldn't be right. If so...

Could the same method work on other potions, too?

For instance, precious ancient potions and rare Elven potions. Even if the ingredients were scarce, couldn't they still be used to make inferior versions?

Why were potion formulas still so scarce?

"Something must be missing..."

The earl placed the ingredients on the table without changing his expression, then looked at Borne, who was stunned and doubting himself. He nodded inwardly.

Thought was the very foundation of an Arcanist's existence.

Those who didn't think for themselves and only followed others would always be nothing more than "magical entertainers"!

By chance, Borne glanced at the ingredients. A flash of insight crossed his mind, and he blurted out, "Multiple processing!"

The earl nodded inwardly. Borne had thought of a countermeasure in such a short time. He was ready to explore the path of magic on his own.

"Good. Repeated processing can indeed prevent the process from being reversed. But nothing is absolute. The foundation of magical restoration and repair is understanding. 'Miracles' don't appear out of thin air. The better you understand the materials, the more completely you can restore them!"

"You need to diversify your sources of raw materials and stock up on more ingredients and auxiliary materials. Even without magically restoring them, someone could roughly deduce the composition from your purchase list..."

Borne jolted, finally catching on. What he'd thought was a flawless plan was riddled with loopholes. He smiled bitterly and asked, "What about those contracts? If I hadn't brought them out, would there have been a way to get around them, too?"

"There are ways. As long as you weigh the costs against the benefits, sacrificing a little isn't unacceptable. In this case, the benefits were great enough to make that small cost negligible." The earl smiled.

As Borne was left feeling dejected, the earl continued, "However, the Dean was very impressed with your performance. With the contract in his hands, the cost would be too great for anyone else to ignore..."

Borne: ...

So having the bigger fist was what mattered.

The earl raised a hand and flicked it lightly. An iron badge appeared in his palm.

"Here..."

"Hmm? This is... the Dean's insignia?"

"This is a reward from him. Since it wasn't an internal matter of the Academy, the reward wasn't issued by the Academy. Take this to him, and you can make a request—not one that's too outrageous, mind you. Hmm... 'request' is the right word." The earl considered his phrasing for a moment before settling on it.

"Really!?" Borne's eyes lit up, and he quickly took the badge.

A magical version of the Black Iron Token!

I can't make any outrageous demands, but I'm not Dog Brother, either.

Borne played with the badge for a few moments. It looked like an ordinary iron trinket, and he couldn't help grumbling, "I thought it would come with some special ability. It's just a piece of scrap iron..."

The earl's mouth twitched. He raised his hand and went "thunk." Borne clutched his head, crouched on the ground, and sucked in a sharp breath.

"Does he need to bother with all those flashy tricks? Don't get greedy after getting a good deal. He's brought this badge out fewer than five times in his life. There are countless people who'd kill to have it. You should be grinning from ear to ear, not complaining about it..."

Seeing the old man lose his temper, Borne obediently kept quiet and put on an attentive, teachable look.

Seeing him like that, the earl said irritably, "Now you understand, right? Don't get overconfident. You won't always have someone to cover for you. If it weren't for the mutated potion in this formula, you'd have had to feed all those warehouses' worth of High Yarrow to the sheep..."

"Yes, yes. You're right, Grandfather!"

The earl gave a soft snort. "Still, you did a good job mutating the potion!"

As he spoke, he picked up a broken piece of herb. It was the High Yarrow Borne had mutated. "High Yarrow already serves as a catalyst. After mutation, its effects have reached their peak, making it work a bit like aged wine. I didn't expect you to prove Proctiv's theory from thirty years ago."

"Proctiv? The... lord of Zenith City?"

The earl nodded, looking rather pleased with himself. "That fellow proposed the theory but never proved it. I'm delighted my grandson managed to. I heard that when he found out, he was so angry his beard stood on end..."

"He's set up a Mage academy in Zenith City, too. You should visit and exchange ideas sometime."

Borne: ...

Exchange ideas?

Was he sure he didn't mean go pick a fight?

Proctiv was a High Arcanist and an old hand at spellcasting, highly respected in Netheril. He'd become lord of Zenith City thirty years ago.

As temperatures continued to drop and food grew increasingly scarce, the beast tide finally turned its attention to Seventon. But that had nothing to do with Borne anymore. No matter what had caused this beast tide, with the interests of all sides now balanced, this disaster had become a huge boon...

Those few little fishing villages in the North from back then had now stepped onto the stage of Faerûn, and in the years that followed, they would shine with dazzling brilliance!

After establishing cooperation with the Military Department, military supplies were finally made available to Borne.

Yes. After going around in circles, this was what Borne had been after all along.

The military supply depot!