Loremaster of the Amaranthine lands

As the dark elf opened his eyes, the familiar scene of the small sewer camp appeared in front of it.

“You’re awake,” the old man noticed him stirring. “I’ve figured you went ahead and spent your earnings, so I’ve began to clean the fishes I got for us while waiting.”

“I did spend some Amaranth, but I left after not getting what I expected.” Regis grumbled.

“What happened?” The elderly fellow stopped his work to turn towards the youth.

“I’ve decided to form my apprentice constellation to unlock my crafts, but…”

“But now it’s unrecognised.” Bray finished the dark elf’s thoughts with a casual tone.

“Yeah, it is. Why? What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” the elder shook his head. “It just needs adjustments.”

“Adjustments,” Regis mumbled with a confused expression written all over his face. “Why?”

“For a shardwaker, a craft means much more than it does for ordinary folks. I’m sure you’ve noticed that you have an actual skill line for your craft, right? When you reach your first specialization, your soul-space will form a constellation chart. It doesn’t matter what you decide to specialize in, the chart will be a general one. That is to say, a weapon-smith and a jewel-smith would both get the blacksmith constellation chart, even though jewellers wouldn’t craft horseshoes or swords. Do you get it so far?”

“I guess,” the young dark elf nodded. “From what you’ve said, I would need to form this craft-related constellation for the soul-space to recognise it, but it would be the same as if I was a potion alchemist.”

“Not quite. The base of the path might be shared, but it changes based on what you actually practice. Once the constellation is formed, a new pathway will appear, beginning a unique path for the craft. As for your apprentice pathway; it will continue onward since you’ll have an acknowledged craft. Of course; if you have more than one craft, that means more sigils along the path of the apprentice, all leading down different paths. It’s up to you how far you’ll walk on said paths. Now that we’ve clarified this mess; do you have any other questions? If not, I’ll get back to making food.”

“I do have a question. Do you still have the fish’s bones and guts?” Regis stood up and walked over to the elderly man.

“They’re over there,” Bray pointed towards a clay pot not far away. “I was going to throw them away later when I had the time. Why?”

“It’s pointless to worry about my pathways for now since I can’t move forward anyway. As for the fish parts, I need them for the next project I’m planning for my transmutation alchemy.” The youth answered as he grabbed the bowl with the remains and walked over to the mystical formation.

He grabbed some wood that was meant to be used for the fire and threw it into the empty area of the formation before tossing a handful of fish guts in as well. The old man watched with raised eyebrows as the young dark elf cast his chilling touch, letting the transmutation circle absorb the water elemental energy. Regis placed his hands on the side the formation and began to concentrate. In his mind, the simplified process of paper-making flashed step by step, starting by breaking down the wood into a pulp and creating fish glue from the guts and the water elemental energy to make his creation firmer.

It went on all the way to forming sheets and drying them under pressure. He felt his arcana being sapped rapidly as his imagination turned into reality through the formation, sending him on the ground with a pounding headache and dizziness. ‘Did it really work?’ He questioned himself, not daring to believe his success. As the glowing bubble left the circle, it floated towards his opened palms. The bubble popped and a stack of empty drawing paper sheets fell into his hands.

Regis stared at the stack, counting fifty sheets that were halfway between an A4 and an A5 in size. The pages were light yellowish brown, as if slightly stained by time due to the lack of bleaching chemicals and they were at least three times thicker than a regular copy paper. He felt the texture of the bottom sheet with his fingers and his palm, finding it quite pleasant.

“What are those?” Bray stepped next to him with a puzzled look on his face.

“Paper.”

“Paper?”

“My world found ways of making parchments from other things besides animal skin a long time ago. Fibrous plants are an excellent choice. We’ve honed our paper-making craft for millennia and what you see is paper made from wood. Of course, I’ve used a weak adhesive of fish glue in the process, but the end result is still better than I expected.”

The old man took the top sheet and examined it with a discerning gaze. After a good minute of silence, he patted the youth on the back with an acknowledging smile.

“This is quite something,” he said. “I’ve seen quite a few lambskin parchments before and although this paper of yours isn’t as high in quality as those were, you’ve made them fast and firm. I’m sure that those miserly old bastards would throw themselves at your feet if they’d know how you’ve made so many decent quality parchments from a handful of wood and some guts.”

“This is only the beginning.” Regis smiled as he put the stack of papers back into the transmutation circle before adding some bronze scraps, a decent length of cord and a large sheet of leather to it, along with some fish bones he took from the remains and a piece of wood.

Bray watched silently as the youth meditated for a few minutes to regain his arcana before activating the formation once more. In Regis’ mind, the simple, yet well-honed method of bookbinding flashed by as he remembered the video he watched on the internet. Soon, his arcana dropped once more, causing him to feel nauseous. When the circle’s lights stopped swirling, a new set of golden words appeared in front of his eyes.

The youth wheezed due to the sudden increased arcana loss, but the glowing bubble that left the magic formation made him more excited than tired. He reached out and the bubble popped with a flash. Regis felt something flat fall into his hands and as the light disappeared, a leather-bound book with bronze corners and clasps greeted him.

“It’s beautiful!” The young dark elf said as he stared at the blank leather cover and the plain bronze corners with obvious pride.

To others, it might have seemed like just an old-fashioned and cheaply made book, but for him, it was proof of his transmutation skills and ingenuity. He held it towards Bray with a smirk on his face, nodding at the old man.

“It’s a tome,” the grey-haired elder said. “Not a bad-looking one either. Although it’s a bit on the thinner side, it’s still quite something, given how quickly it was made and what you’ve used to make it.”

“I needed a book to record all the runes and other knowledge I’ve got cramped in my head. The legacy crystals and pathways might let me learn them, but it’s a hassle to rummage through my mind every time I want to make something, not to mention that I can feel them slowly slip away. It would be faster to just turn a few pages and refresh my memories. Now I just need to make a proper fountain pen and a few rolls of TP and we’re set.”

“TP?”

“Toilet paper. You don’t know what you’ve been missing out on until you try it.”

With that, the youth closed his eyes for a good quarter of an hour to meditate. After waking up from his trance, he threw another bunch of wood into the transmutation circle along with a few small pieces of fish guts and a runic ice spell. The lights inside the formation began to spin as a different method of paper-making flashed in the youth’s memories, letting him remember the old-fashioned way of creating soft paper. When his arcana left his body without any trouble, he already knew that he succeeded.

He stared at the bubble that floated out from the magic circle and after the flash of light that followed the popping sound; he felt something soft land in his hands. When he opened his eyes again, a pair of toilet paper stacks lay in his hands. They were light brown in colour due to the lack of bleaching, but they were soft enough and as he placed one of the stacks down, he tried to rip off the corner of the first sheet.

It was durable, yet it was obviously toilet paper. It wasn’t shaped in a roll but was a long strip that was folded on top of each other along the broken lines where he could easily tear them apart. Regis smiled dumbfounded as he stared at his creation with a childlike adoration.

“Finally!” He said as he tried to hold back a manly tear after remembering the experience of using crude linen and even worse things.

“What are those for?” Bray asked as he stared at the youth with that dumb smile on his face.

“I’m pretty sure you’ll find out how to use these sheets on your own when you go to the privy.” The youth said as he handed one of the stacks over to Bray before using up the rest of the fish guts, water and wood to create as much toilet paper as he could.

Once he was done with the seemingly stupid, but all the more important matter of TP hoarding, he rested his mind with some meditation. Sometime later, he opened his eyes with a clear head. He already finished scrapping the unwanted pieces of arms and armour from his loot bundle, and he managed to sort out his soul-space matters somewhat. Now he had some free time to kill, or rather, rats. His health and stamina were the lowest of his three stats and that had to be corrected.

With no better short-term alternatives, he had to go on a quick rat hunt to gather a few more shards. There were barely a few hours to mend that problem before the guards would call the people together at the market to make the city lord’s decision known. With that in mind, he told Bray that he’d go out for a short while as he checked his armour and bladestaff one last time before heading towards the city’s west gate.

The guards knew better than to stop the armed and kitted dark elf from walking through the gates and he barely reached the other side of the entrance when he noticed the first rat. It was as big as a bulldog and even more vicious. It eyed the youth that walked closer to the rat, waiting for the creature to attack. He didn’t have to wait for long as it let out a growl and lunged towards him. Regis stepped away as he used his piercing strike to stab the rat in its side.

His bladestaff went through its chest and likely its lungs, causing the creature to screech in pain before the youth twisted the weapon, damaging its heart and killing it in a few moments. A flick of his earned a drop of blood from his fingertip and after willing the spell to activate, the familiar sacrificial circle’s power wrapped around the corpse, draining it from all its worth. ‘That’s one down.’ He thought as he grabbed the small red shard and headed towards the forest, stopping at its edge to wait for the next volunteer.

One after another, blight-touched rats showed up from the dense shrubs, lured out by the smell of blood that spread through the air. Regis backed away a bit, so he could fight on an open terrain, but it was still tiresome to fend off the oversized rats. An hour later he was drenched in sweat as he sacrificed his twentieth rat corpse.

“No animals would live in these forests my ass.” He wheezed as he turned around and hurried back to Hunor, absorbing his third complete Vigour shard of the day.

The youth knew that he needed to rest and repair what little damage was done to his equipment, so he hurried back to Bray’s courtyard.

“I take it you were successful in whatever you’ve planned to do?” The elderly man asked as he watched the sweat-covered youth enter the courtyard.

“I was.” He gave a curt answer as he took off his armour and laid it out on the ground to mend it with his spell.

“You didn’t hear any guards yelling while I was away, did you?”

“No,” Bray shook his head as he finally began to pour the fish soup into bowls. “Why? Did something happen again?”

“Don’t worry Bray. I’m just waiting for them to call the people of Hunor to the market. Chera, a wizard from the city lord’s mansion told me earlier that they’ll announce the news regarding the boats and the scouts that returned later today.”

“Oh, I see. The soup is ready, if you’re hungry.”

“Sure,” the youth nodded. “We might as well enjoy some warm food while we wait.”

Bray handed him a bowl of hot soup along with a spoon and the two of them began to eat while chatting. The old man told him how he saw the refugees mourn and riot before either dying or leaving Hunor. Regis nodded from time to time, pointing out things he heard from Amanda and Sophie. After a good hour of talking about the events of the previous night, the early morning and how the newly arrived ships are replenishing the number of refugees at an alarming rate, the sound of a horn silenced them.

“All mercenaries, refugees and outlanders interested in travelling upriver shall gather at the west gate market!” A firm yell made it obvious that the time had come.

“I guess that’s my cue.” Regis said as he stood up, packing away several items into his repaired knapsack and one of the small burlap sacks.

“Indeed,” the elderly man agreed with him. “Go and find out what you need. I’ll stay here and clean up the camp a bit. You’ve made quite a mess out of it during your crafting time.”

“Sorry about that,” the young elf apologised. “I do have something to make it up to you with though.”

He pulled out a silver-coloured apple from his bag, handing it over to the old man.

“This…”

“It’s a Landwaker fruit. I forgot to give it to you earlier. Just eat it later, okay?” He nodded at Bray before leaving the sewer hideout, carrying the small sack and his bladestaff.

With their talk over, the dark elf trotted out of the alley and through the cobblestone streets, making his way towards the already crowded marketplace.