I hobbled into the library, leaning more heavily on Sebastian than I wanted to admit. The familiar smell of old books and dust greeted me as we entered Magnus's domain. The ancient librarian sat at his usual desk, surrounded by stacks of weathered tomes.

"Ah, young master Isaac," Magnus peered at me over his spectacles. "Lady Brunhilde informed me you'd be joining us this afternoon. Though she failed to mention you'd be quite so... stiff."

I collapsed into the nearest chair, my legs grateful for the respite. "Stiff is a generous description at the moment."

"Right that is," Magnus shuffled through some papers on his desk. "Well, since you're here, we might as well make use of your time. I've selected some basic texts on magical theory for your review."

Sebastian placed a stack of books on the table beside me. My wrapped fingers protested as I reached for the top volume, but I managed to open it without dropping it.

"Focus on the fundamentals of ice formation," Magnus instructed. "Lady Brunhilde was quite specific about the areas she wants covered."

I nodded, already scanning the first page. The text discussed basic ice crystal structures—something I'd studied extensively in my past life. But reading about it with my young eyes gave me a fresh perspective. Details I'd overlooked before suddenly seemed significant.

"I'll leave you to your studies," Sebastian said. "Call if you need anything."

I barely registered his departure, already absorbed in the familiar yet somehow new information before me. Here, at least, my mind could work without my body's limitations getting in the way.

Magnus shuffled closer, his white hair seeming to float as he moved. He stared at me, then at the wall, then back at me.

"Did you hear about the Ignaris delegation?" He tapped the desk with long fingers. "Third time they've requested mining rights in the northern peaks. Quite bold, considering the last time they tried, we froze their entire expedition solid." He paused, frowning. "Or was that House Fael? No, no, Fael was the one with the marriage proposal. Dreadful business."

I looked up from my book. Magnus rarely spoke to students directly.

"The Council's been in session for three days now." His pale eyes focused somewhere past my shoulder. "Lady Folmarth thinks we should strike first, you know. Says the southern houses are getting too ambitious. But then, she's said that every winter for the past... how long has it been?" He scratched his chin. "Was it before or after we built the east wing? The one with the blue tiles. Or were they green?"

Magnus shuffled through more papers, muttering about tile colors and troop movements. "Your father's been gathering forces near the Bitter Plains. Very quiet about it too. Though everyone knows, of course. Can't move three thousand men without someone noticing." He blinked.

I watched Magnus carefully. His seemingly scattered ramblings held purpose—he never shared information without reason. The troop movements near the Bitter Plains were particularly interesting. That region had been a point of contention with House Ignaris for generations.

"The mining rights," I said, keeping my voice neutral. "What resources caught their interest?"

Magnus shuffled another paper. "Ice-steel ore. Only place it forms naturally. Curious timing, wouldn't you say? Right before the Awakening ceremonies." He adjusted his spectacles. "Your brother's been spending more time in the restricted sections lately. Very interested in offensive techniques. Most unusual for an heir to focus so heavily on combat magic this close to formal recognition."

My fingers tightened on the book. Franz's interest in combat techniques matched my memories—he'd always preferred overwhelming force to subtle control. But the timing...

"Tell me about ice-steel," I said, ignoring the burning in my muscles as I leaned forward. "Why would House Ignaris risk another confrontation over mining rights?"

"Fascinating material." Magnus pulled a thin volume from a nearby stack. "Absorbs and channels ice magic like nothing else. Perfect for weapons, armor, ritual items." He placed the book beside me. "Some say the founders used it in their most powerful artifacts. But that was before my time. I think. Was it Tuesday when they built the north tower?"

I opened the new book, noting its worn binding and faded script. The pages detailed ice-steel's unique properties—properties I'd never had a chance to study in my past life. This could explain several gaps in my theoretical knowledge.

"Your mother came through earlier," Magnus mentioned, arranging papers that didn't need arranging. "Very interested in historical precedents regarding succession challenges. Most unusual, given the current political climate. Or was that last winter? The years do blend together."

I kept my expression carefully blank as I turned another page. My mother had been dead for a long time, even in this new life.

"Lady Meriam passed when I was born, Magnus." My voice stayed gentle—his occasional confusion was well-known, and he'd always shown me kindness.

Magnus's face fell, age lines deepening around his eyes. "Oh yes, of course. Lady Meriam." He set down the papers he'd been shuffling, hands trembling slightly. "She loved this library, you know. Said understanding was more important than raw power."

He touched one of the older books on his desk. "I remember her final project. It was... Hmm... She never did get to finish it."

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The ache in my muscles faded as I watched the old librarian's shoulders slump. I'd never known my mother, but Magnus had. In my past life, I'd avoided asking about her.

"What else do you remember about her?"

"Brilliant woman. Quiet, but sharp as an ice needle." Magnus adjusted his spectacles. "She'd sit right where you are now, surrounded by research materials. Sometimes she'd forget to eat."

He gave me a pointed look. "The servants would bring her tea, but it would go cold while she worked."

Magnus's words about my mother hit something deep inside me. In my past life, I'd been too focused on survival to ask about her.

Now, watching the old librarian's face soften with memory, I found myself curious.

"Tell me more," I wanted, no needed, to know more.

"Ice blades." Magnus pulled another book from his stack. "Not the crude weapons most nobles form. She studied ways to maintain a single blade for hours without reformation. Quite revolutionary, really." He opened the volume, revealing detailed diagrams. "She theorized that proper edge formation could cut through almost anything."

I leaned forward, ignoring my protesting muscles. The diagrams showed techniques I'd never seen before—precise calculations for maintaining optimal edge geometry through sustained magic flow.

"Most thought her odd for focusing on swordplay." Magnus traced one of the diagrams with a thin finger. "But she believed in efficiency above all else. Said most nobles waste power on dramatic displays when a single perfect strike would suffice."

"She left thirteen volumes of research notes." Magnus's eyes grew distant. "Though most were sealed away after... well." He shuffled more papers. "The Council thought some of her theories too dangerous. Quite unusual, sealing away research notes. Or was that someone else? The years do blend..."

I studied the diagram before me, memorizing every detail while Magnus rambled.

"You have her focus, you know." Magnus's voice grew clearer. "The way you study. Though your eyes are your father's, that intensity when you read—that's all her."

I traced the diagram with my fingertip, following the precise lines my mother had drawn. It reflected years of study, work that had been sealed away and forgotten.

Or perhaps not entirely forgotten, given Magnus's remarkable memory for someone who claimed to forget which day it was.

"Did she leave any other notes? Personal journals, perhaps?" I kept my voice casual.

Magnus shuffled through more papers. "The official archives contain what the Council deemed appropriate. Though..." He glanced at the ceiling, then the walls, then back to his desk. "Some would say she had a secret place to study within this library, a place that only belonged to her."

He pulled another book from his stack. "Here's a fascinating text on basic ice formation. Very appropriate for your current studies." His pale eyes met mine for a brief moment. "The chapter on edge maintenance is particularly enlightening. Your mother found it quite useful in her early research."

I accepted the book, noting its worn spine and dog-eared pages. Someone had made careful notes in the margins, precise, elegant handwriting that must have been my mother's.

"Thank you, Magnus." I meant it for more than just the book.

"Yes, well." He adjusted his spectacles again. "Lady Brunhilde expects you to master the fundamentals before moving to more advanced topics. Best focus on your assigned reading."

I opened the book, but my thoughts kept returning to Magnus's mention of a private study. In my past life, I'd never heard of such a place. Then again, I'd never asked the right questions.

The diagrams before me showed basic ice formation techniques, but my mother's margin notes hinted at deeper applications.

I studied my mother's elegant handwriting in the margins, each note revealing deeper insights into ice manipulation. One particular annotation caught my eye: "Ice's structure allows for edges far thinner than traditional metals."

Unlike steel or other metals that become brittle when forged too thin, ice could last, if formed correctly.

Below the note, she'd sketched a detailed diagram of molecular alignments.

"Source material crucial," she'd written. "Pure water = weak. Mineral-rich = stronger. But the right mixture..."

By carefully selecting and freezing specific materials in precise formations, she'd theorized creating edges that would never dull or break.

Magnus shuffled past, muttering about catalog systems and missing scrolls. But I barely heard him, absorbed in my mother's work.

I turned the final page, and then nothing.

"Magnus, are there more books with her notes?"

The old librarian paused his endless reorganizing. "These are what's available in the general collection." He adjusted his spectacles.

I tried another angle. "You mentioned she had a private study space?"

"Did I?" Magnus blinked. "My memory isn't what it used to be."

I held up the book with my mother's notes. "Her research—there must be more. These notes show she was working on something revolutionary."

"Revolutionary?" Magnus shuffled more papers. "Oh dear, no. Nothing revolutionary here. Just basic theory texts, perfectly appropriate for your current level of study. Lady Brunhilde was quite specific about keeping to the fundamentals."

His pale eyes darted to the ceiling, then the walls, then back to his desk. The message was clear, this conversation had reached its limit, at least for now.

I tried to speak up, but he held up a hand.

The change was instant. Magnus's scattered demeanor vanished, replaced by sharp focus that made the temperature drop several degrees.

His pale eyes fixed on mine with unsettling clarity.

"The rest of your mother's work is beyond you for now." His voice carried, all pretense of forgetfulness gone. "But work on your fundamentals, and what is sealed will gradually be allowed to you."

I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the library's temperature. This was the true Magnus, the one who'd survived centuries of Eiskar politics, who guarded knowledge. The scattered old man act wasn't just an act; it was armor, carefully crafted and maintained.

I lowered my eyes to the book in my hands, acknowledging the warning. "I understand."

The pressure of his presence lingered for a moment longer, then lifted. When I looked up again, Magnus had already shuffled back to his usual position, muttering about misplaced scrolls and dust.

"Meriam really was lovely." Magnus's voice softened with genuine fondness. He reached for another volume, this one bound in simple leather without ornamentation. "Now then, back to your assigned studies."

He placed the book before me. "Ice Formation: First Principles and Basic Applications." The text was so elementary it might as well have been written for children. I recognized it from my first life—the kind of book they gave to nobles who showed minimal magical talent.

The irony wasn't lost on me. In my past life, this had been my actual level. Now, with decades of theoretical knowledge and my mother's advanced notes fresh in my mind, it felt like being handed a picture book after reading advanced philosophy.

Still, Magnus had already shown his serious side once. I wasn't about to push my luck.

"Thank you." I accepted the book with appropriate gratitude, taking it to a quiet corner of the library.

I settled into one of the worn chairs, positioning myself where I could see both entrances while appearing absorbed in my reading. The pages contained simple diagrams of basic ice crystal formation, the kind of knowledge most Eiskar children absorbed before they could walk.

Opening to the first chapter, I began to read about how water freezes.