Arcane Knight

Lady of the Night Shar had also seized the powerful portfolio of Hatred during the catastrophe, successfully returning to the ranks of the Greater Deities. Shar and Selune, the Goddess of the Moon, had lost most of their power in the ancient war and had never recovered. (Selune, too—the original goddess was still only a deity of intermediate power.)

Now, thanks to her schemes and skill at taking advantage of the chaos, Shar had finally returned to the ranks of the Greater Deities. The catastrophe had also caused enormous damage to the world. Shar was primordial darkness, the absolute nothingness that had existed before time began to flow, and a cold, indifferent divine being. She yearned desperately to return to the peaceful nothingness of the beginning, and had long been plotting in secret to destroy all civilization. The catastrophe of the Year of Dark Boiling had been right up her alley. She'd made a killing.

Another troublemaker, the Prince of Lies Cyric, had gained nothing but the hatred of the other gods. The new Dead Three hated him even more than they hated the Triad, and were always looking for a chance to kill the madman. As for the good-aligned gods, every one of them wanted to chop the bastard up and feed him to the chaos hound Kezef. Even his ally, the Lady of the Night, coveted his portfolio and was constantly looking for a chance to kill him. Even the savage god Malar had no fondness for the guy and would gladly take a shot at him if given the chance. But Cyric didn't care about all the hatred and loathing. He actually enjoyed it. He was the sort of person who'd hurt others even at his own expense, someone who was happy just to see other people suffer. He had a truly twisted sense of humor.

Still, there was no denying that the Prince of Lies was capable. Though almost every god hated him, he was somehow still alive and well, and he even came out to cause trouble every now and then. His survival was nothing short of miraculous.

No one in Avalon would teach Solam about such things. Because the Avalon Orcs had been betrayed by the gods, they were rather indifferent to them, and rarely discussed them of their own accord.

Solam listened with rapt interest. This was far more fascinating than the myths from his previous life. Perhaps it was because there were no gods in that world. These stories were both absurd and real. In the religious myths of his old world, gods were all supposed to be great and flawless. These gods, on the other hand, were powerful, sure, but which one of them didn't have a pile of flaws? That was what made them interesting, wasn't it?

But the old man was getting on in years, and he'd only just been injured. Before long, he was yawning nonstop as he talked. Solam was fascinated by the outside world, but not so much that he'd make an old man keep talking in his condition. So he gave the old man his blanket and told him to sleep. He'd prepare the Snow Dragon hide, then get a good night's sleep with Frostfang.

After that, the old man traveled with Solam. Having someone to talk to along the way was much more entertaining than traveling alone. Solam could tell that Arando was very knowledgeable. He could tell him about all sorts of things Solam had never heard of before.

Most importantly, the old man turned out to be a Mage—or rather, that wasn't quite right. He was an Arcane Knight.

It was a profession that allowed its practitioners to fight in armor like knights and cast spells like Mages. According to the old man, they were called Arcane Knights because the profession originated in the great age of Netheril. Back then, the great Arcanists had suddenly come up with the idea of giving a group of Floating City guard knights the same spellcasting ability as Arcanists, so they could serve the great Arcanists more effectively.

It was a fine idea in theory, but things weren't so simple in practice. Neither Arcanists nor Mages could wear armor, because it caused their spells to fail. In general, leather armor carried a 40% chance of spell failure, while half-plate had a 60% chance. But if they couldn't wear armor, what kind of knights would they be? A knight without armor had far less defense. Arcane Knights were meant to supplement the close-combat defenses of Arcanists. If they couldn't wear armor, they might as well bring along a few more low-level Arcanists. It would amount to the same thing.

But the greatest minds of humanity's greatest age were no pushovers. Through a series of studies, they finally found a solution: they designed a special spell that could be bestowed on Arcane Knights through a unique ritual, granting them the talent to cast spells while wearing armor. But the heavens were fair. In return for this powerful talent, Arcane Knights had to make sacrifices. They lost one spell at every caster level. Even today, that meant they had one fewer Spell Slot at every level than other Mages.

Once the problem of casting spells in armor was solved, another problem arose: the knights themselves. If Arcane Knights were just Mages in armor, the Arcanists had no reason to spend so much time and effort creating the profession. An Arcane Knight without knightly skills was no different from an ordinary Arcanist. But training to become a knight wasn't easy. It took a great deal of time, while spellcasting practice and research also demanded plenty of time. That would leave Arcane Knights mediocre at both, with no practical value at all.

So the great Arcanists discussed it and decided they might as well make another modification. A new magical ritual was devised. It not only gave Arcane Knights the talent to cast spells in armor, but also granted them the talent of Arcane Modification. This talent let them use magical energy during meditation to improve their physical abilities, while also giving them resistance to magic. The cost was two fewer Spell Slots at every level. But the great Arcanists didn't consider that a serious problem. Arcane Knights were only meant to support them in close combat, after all. A few fewer spells didn't matter.

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After they'd solved those two problems, the great Arcanists were overjoyed, convinced they were about to reach a new peak. But reality gave them a rude awakening. They'd solved the "hardware" problem, but knightly and spellcasting skills still had to be learned the old-fashioned way. Magic couldn't take care of that. Both disciplines required talent and time, and anyone who could master both was undoubtedly a genius. But where could they find so many geniuses? Even if they did, those people might as well train directly as Arcanists. Why waste time on this? It just wasn't worth it.

As a result, the profession never really took off in the Netheril era. Only a few people chose to study it. After the fall of Netheril, the profession somehow managed to survive, though it remained on the verge of extinction. Very few Arcane Knights had carried on the tradition to the present day.

But it would be wrong to assume the profession was weak just because of all that. A combination of spellcasting and knightly skills was actually very powerful. To make the most of their abilities, Arcane Knights generally gave up on in-depth magical research and experimentation, and focused on learning spells that could be used in battle. That was why most Mages looked down on this half-baked profession, though they looked down on other professions too.

The moment Solam heard about such an awesome profession, his interest was piqued. He'd always been intensely curious about spells, and this profession wouldn't leave him as frail as a Mage. Since he'd grown up in an Orc clan, he'd inevitably been influenced by its values, and he still cared a lot about that. As for having fewer Spell Slots, he didn't mind. He was a Shaman, after all, so the two could complement each other. Shamans didn't have as many restrictions as Mages, and whether they wore armor was entirely up to them. As for the time it took, come on—he was a Beast Elf! He'd live for 600 years, so he didn't mind spending some of that time on it. He had plenty of time.

So ever since he'd heard Arando's explanation, Solam had pestered him to teach him how to become an Arcane Knight. He'd become even more insistent after Arando, seeing how much Solam was carrying, had taken out a dimensional bag and stowed most of his belongings inside. Solam wouldn't take no for an answer. He was determined to become an Arcane Knight, especially since Arando had told him that Arcane Knights could also learn alchemy and make magical items, just like ordinary Mages.

To be honest, when Solam saw that dimensional bag, he was more shocked than he would've been by a devastating spell. Compared to his previous life, what could any spell do that missiles couldn't? And if those weren't enough, there were nuclear bombs, hydrogen bombs, neutron bombs, and planet-busters.

He'd heard how awesome the magic rituals of the Elven Age were, and how magnificent the Floating Cities of Netheril had been. But in Solam's eyes, so what? Were the Elves' magical rituals really that impressive? They'd only blown the continent into pieces. Pathetic. One planet-buster from him could reduce the entire world to dust. And their Floating Cities were supposed to be impressive? They could only carry a hundred thousand people. Pathetic. His interstellar ark could carry hundreds of thousands, and it wouldn't fall out of the sky. A transmigrator had to have some pride. After seeing the level of production in this world, Solam couldn't help feeling a swell of big-world chauvinism.

But seeing Arando take out that dimensional bag had thoroughly shaken his pride. Damn, wasn't this space-folding technology? In Solam's previous life, it had been a technological challenge for nearly a century. Humanity had been circling the solar system for hundreds of years, desperate to explore beyond it, but there was one problem: it was too damn far. A round trip took N years. It was unbearable. So people had always hoped for a breakthrough in spatial technology, but it was like trying to catch a ghost: they couldn't even manage the most basic space folding, even after wasting a hundred years. Space warping was even further beyond them.

How could he describe the shock Solam felt? Imagine flying the latest small aircraft to show off to a primitive African tribe, only to arrive and find that everyone there was already riding personal hovercraft.