Leaving

That evening, Borne's mind was filled with fragments of memories.

The feeling was familiar, but this time it was much more violent. Memories of his past life on Earth mingled with strange yet familiar magic runes, and Borne felt as though his head had been stuffed with a lump of dough.

After who knew how long, Borne opened his eyes. His head was still spinning, and it felt much like a hangover the day after a night of drinking—his skull was swollen and aching. It was as if he suddenly understood a great many things, yet knew nothing at all.

Whenever he recalled what had happened in his dream while he was unconscious, a wave of pain shot through his head.

After taking a long while to steady himself, Borne called for a maid. He had her bring some water so he could wash up, and soon he felt much better.

After asking the servants, he learned that he had only slept for a day and a night. Borne secretly breathed a sigh of relief. At least nothing melodramatic had happened. After a simple meal, he was taken to the castle's study.

The study had already been transformed. A table and two chairs had been placed in the middle of the room. One chair was noticeably taller, clearly prepared for Borne.

There were many more books in the study. The shelves lining the walls were completely full, and there still wasn't enough room, so books had been piled directly on the floor. The whole study felt rather cramped.

The earl was already seated beside the table, with a thick magic book floating in front of him.

The book gave off a faint white glow, making its contents impossible to see.

Borne hurried inside to pay his respects, not forgetting to glance at the things beside him.

Distinction Between Spells and Divine Magic

Origin of Dwarven Runes

Evolution of Elven Script

Some of the books even had strange runes on them, and Borne understood what they meant. But he didn't yet realize there was anything unusual about that; instead, the titles caught his attention.

What the hell was this?

Borne stared in bewilderment, with a vague sense that something was wrong...

"Sit down."

"Yes, Grandfather."

Borne climbed onto the tall stool and quietly waited for his grandfather's next instruction.

"Borne, do you know what an Arcanist is?" the earl asked.

Borne's expression grew serious. After a moment's thought, he answered uncertainly, "A creator of miracles? A transcendent?"

"Magic is power! This world is filled with wondrous magical elements. Arcanists exist to perceive the truth of the world."

As he spoke, a small flame appeared in the earl's hand.

"This kind of spell requires you to first study and understand how the Weave works. These spellcasters directly manipulate the Weave's threads to create the effects they need. Sorcerers and Mages use magic in the same way."

"By contrast, the spells used by Clerics, Druids, Paladins, and Rangers are called divine magic, elven magic, or natural magic. These spellcasters connect with the Weave through faith or oaths, drawing on the sacred power of the gods or the might of nature."

A third party?

An intermediary?

Borne tilted his head in confusion. "Then wouldn't that make them like merchants, with magic as their merchandise?"

"Hmm...?"

The unexpected question left the earl stunned. In all his recollections, no one had ever described divine magic that way.

It was so apt that he couldn't help laughing.

An Arcanist needed to view problems from different angles and discover things no one else had ever thought of.

He realized that his grandson had some of the basic qualities needed to become an Arcanist!

The more he looked at him, the more pleased he became. His heart swelled with relief. At last, there was someone to carry on the family line!

He ruffled little Borne's hair and said kindly, "That's right. Borne, remember this: you must never say things like that again, especially in front of people like them."

"Why not?"

"Because the 'great merchants' have a lot of thugs. Even your grandfather can't beat them."

"Uh, all right..."

Grandfather made a good point. Borne had no answer.

"Then what do they use to 'pay'?"

His grandfather lowered his voice. "Faith!"

"Faith?"

"Shh! You can't talk about that, either."

"All right, I understand."

Borne spread his hands helplessly. Anything involving the gods seemed to be taboo.

"All right, where was I? Ah, every magical effect created here is shaped by the Weave's threads being tangled, twisted, folded, and manipulated in other ways."

As he spoke, a net made of magic appeared before Borne. With a movement of the earl's finger, it transformed into a flame, a rock, or a bolt of lightning...

Over the following days, little Borne spent almost all his time studying theory. Most of it was just conjecture, a direction for theoretical exploration.

But at its heart, it all pointed toward a change in the way he thought.

Although he hadn't learned a single line of magical incantation or script, Borne could feel his own magic undergoing a strange change. His sense of magic had become more "sensitive," as if his rusty old car had been greased and now ran more "smoothly"!

In the world of D&D, apart from combat-focused classes, some knights—such as knight captains—or warriors also learned to cast spells. But their abilities generally reached only the third or fourth circle, and at most the fifth. The typical example was a holy knight, a Paladin.

Commonly known as: the healing Paladin.

Only Mages and Sorcerers were called spellcasters. Yet most spellcasters spent their whole lives studying magic, only to keep going around in circles, trapped by textbook incantations and precisely measured amounts of magic!

What the earl had said most often during these days was that one should become the master of magic, not its slave!

Put simply, one needed to understand the essence of magic rather than merely reusing the spells of those who came before. There were far too many "magic copying machines" in this world. Even Giles Academy had plenty of people like that, blindly piling up the number and destructive power of their spells without understanding the principles behind them. They didn't even fully understand how Magic Missile was constructed!

Spellcasters who could only copy, never innovate, made up the vast majority of Toril.

Arcanists were the ones who created and improved magic!

The earl looked at Borne and said, "You must always remember the core principle of an Arcanist! Other people's paths have an end. Only a path you forge yourself is truly yours, and only it has an infinite future! Arcanists seek the truths of the world. Even if you get something wrong, it's still your own understanding—and truth itself is not unchanging."

Borne said nothing, listening attentively. Even with memories of a past life, he had only the thoughts and ideas of another world's civilization. They might help him later, but as a beginner, he was better off following his teacher's guidance and studying seriously.

Borne didn't know how precious a high-level Arcanist's time was. The earl spent seventeen or eighteen days personally teaching Borne the most basic theories. That showed just how much he valued him. If the other students at the academy found out, they would probably go mad with envy.

After all, with memories from his previous life, Borne might not understand everything, but he did recognize how important it was. If this were a cultivation world, this would probably be what they called "laying the foundation"!

After ten days of intensive study, Borne gradually absorbed the "memories" in his mind and became even more amazed by the wonders of the Ioulaum House's "Enlightenment."

It was practically a different kind of "cheat." This "knowledge infusion" was similar to the inherited memories of dragons. It let him skip the earliest stages of learning to read and understand more than a dozen common languages and scripts of Faerûn. Borne had to admit, it really was magical...

And the Ioulaum House was clearly not the only family with access to this kind of secret technique!

The next morning, the earl would return to the royal city of Seventon. Borne was obviously going with him. Staying in the "countryside" any longer would be a complete waste of time. As for Borne's opinion...

It was completely ignored...

Viscount Gordon was even less likely to be of any help. The earl merely gave him a stern look, and Gordon immediately backed down. His older son had already been raised into a lost cause, so the earl had begun training Borne as his next heir.

This small rural backwater couldn't produce spellcasters. And an Arcanist needed more than just piles of gold coins: an academic atmosphere, the clash of ideas, and professional instruction were all essential.

Viscount Gordon didn't go into the city with the earl. The earl felt more at ease with the knight captain there.

By tradition, the knight captain's daughter, Cecily, should have gone with Borne.

But Cecily was too young and had yet to swear her oath of service. Besides, bringing a little brat who had only just learned to walk would only get in Borne's way.

Hearing this decision, Borne felt a small wave of relief.

That night, Borne had the maid pack his things in advance. He knew that starting tomorrow, he would be heading to the most fascinating place in the world for the next several thousand years.

The royal city of Netheril—Seventon!

Though Netheril was currently only a small country, and the title of Arcanist was known only among the upper classes of the surrounding nations, once the Floating City took to the skies and the empire began to soar, that place would become the center of the world!

That night, Borne didn't do anything in particular. He had the guards carry torches and walk all around the castle with him.

Halfway through, Viscount Gordon joined them. The two walked and chatted, and at one point they even talked about Borne's mother.

Gordon had loved her deeply. He had even fallen out with his father and run off to the countryside because of her. The whole story could have been made into a romantic drama.

Borne's mother had been dead for years, but Gordon still hadn't found Borne a stepmother.

There were too many memories in this place. Every stone in the castle held a different memory.

The two of them walked along, laughing and chatting. They hardly seemed like father and son.

To the guards, they looked more like friends with endless things to talk about.

When the first rays of dawn appeared and night gave way, the countryside fields once again filled with bustling sounds. For most commoners, it was the start of another busy day.

Several carriages stood ready outside the castle. The servants had already loaded all the necessary supplies.

The carriages were clearly luxurious, unlike the ordinary carriage the earl had ridden when he first arrived. The horses were fine Gaul steeds, and the sides of the carriages bore the family's strange, crescent-shaped moon emblem.

A gust of wind blew past, and Borne felt a chill. It seemed he wouldn't get to eat delicious charcoal-grilled pig's trotters this winter.