While Miskigma, the God of Magic, spread spells far and wide, he also brought mages firmly under his control—making him one of the most powerful deities.
Any mage who wanted to cast a spell had to use the Magic Web. Unless, like an Ancient Wizard or an Arcanist, he learned to commune with magical elements on his own.
Sometimes Annan wondered if he couldn't cast spells because that Magic Web simply wouldn't let him on.
How else could an eighth-level Sorcerer fail to learn even a Cantrip?
Clearly, the driving force behind magical reform was that mages kept getting lazier.
Fair enough. Plenty of mages had thought: I worked myself to death before I became a mage. If I still have to work myself to death afterward, what was the point?
The fact that spells were growing weaker was another matter.
Annan and Black Widow strolled down the street, with Shadow trailing behind them, barely there.
"Let me ask you something first. Do you think Wilson was telling the truth?"
"Which part?"
"That the dead Ah Adele came back to see him."
"Human hearts are far more complicated than magic," Black Widow said ambiguously.
"So don't worry about what they think. Watch what they do."
At least Annan could tell that Wilson regarded Ah Adele as his entire world.
They believed in Ah Adele's ideals and carried out her wishes. Whether Ah Adele could return didn't matter.
Annan left the investigation to Wilson, but didn't head straight back to the Golden Palace. That would be too conspicuous. Instead, he wandered around the city, pretending to look for clues.
He stopped in at taverns and the Explorer Association, but not the Mercenary Guild.
Annan stood at its entrance and sent Black Widow inside to post a bounty for the "Evil Dragon."