Weylan quickly found what he was looking for at the herb merchants, but for some ingredients, such as double-distilled alcohol, he was referred to the alchemists in the mage academy complex. A circle of three-story buildings around a large courtyard, with the mage tower rising up at the edge. As he got closer, he sighed. Long queues at all the entrances stretched out into the surrounding streets. He pushed past them into the inner courtyard. There were a few stalls set up here, with far fewer visitors waiting in line. The signs with the prices immediately told him why. An hour's consultation with one of the magicians cost 20 gold pieces. According to a notice that had obviously been put up later, no lessons of any kind were included. Weylan wandered around aimlessly for a while, then noticed a familiar face and stepped behind a tree in an unobserved moment. Shadows gathered around him as he stood motionless.

***

The revenant, who had just been sitting on the chair in front of the consultation table, stood up, thanked him politely and walked away. The elf, whom Weylan had recognized immediately, sat down. An older mage in a white robe with a belly-length beard and white hair took off his pointed hat and wiped his forehead. He seemed to be having the time of his life despite the general hustle and bustle: "Have a seat, dear sir. That'll be twenty gold pieces in advance. No discount, no price reduction, you'll get pure information, no lessons and no, you won't learn any spells or skills," he rattled off. His smile took the edge off his words.

The elf counted twenty coins on the table, waited for the mage to nod approvingly and started to speak: "My name is Legolias. I wanted to learn a few spells, but the selection is much larger than before and I can't figure out the system anymore. Some spells require other spells as a prerequisite. What's the point of that? The names of the spells are also much more direct and less flowery. Brazhazhar's Flaming Fury is now simply called Fire Projectiles."

The mage leaned back in his massive wooden chair with a grin: "Oh yes... Elves... Only an elf wanders through forest meadows singing for a hundred and fifty years and then wonders why the world has changed. You have missed the entire development of modular spell structures. At least you are wise enough to recognize your ignorance and seek knowledge before blindly studying and casting spells."

"I see I've come to the right place. Suppose I've actually lived under a rock for two hundred years. What have I missed?"

"Well, in the past, each spell was optimized individually, constantly adapted and refined. However, Archmagus Nazghaman, a specialist in the analysis of magic, realized that spells are made up of a finite number of patterns. He broke spells down into their components and created modular spell parts from them. Each with a precisely defined effect with the minimum possible structure. These can then be used to construct more complex spells very easily by building on each other. Enumerate your spell list."

The elf wordlessly pulled a prepared list out of his pocket and placed it on the table. The mage skimmed over it briefly and then shook his head with a sigh: "Of course. Lots of optimized spells. Fire projectiles so you can start throwing battle magic around right away. As soon as you get the aim right, you learn a more effective spell and start all over again."

"Of course. How else could I..." He paused and then started again: "What can I do better?"

"An excellent question." The mage opened his hand palm up and a translucent sphere appeared above it. "This is the Magic Projectile. The universal ranged spell." He made a quick gesture and the orb flew off in a wide spiral, weaving through the crowd and hitting the wall of a house. There it disintegrated into blue sparks.

Legolias looked at the impact site. "Doesn't seem to have had any effect. Does it only affect living creatures?"

"No. You have to add another component to supply an effect." The mage made another sphere appear. Then he spoke a few more words and the sphere filled with concentrated fire. "Magic Projectile plus Create Fire." He flicked the orb in a high arc into the fountain in the center of the courtyard. He disappeared from sight and the fountain opening lit up briefly.

The magician created another projectile. This time he filled it with a white mist. This spell also ended in the well, above which the mist condensed and then dissipated.

"How many different spells can you cast with it?"

The magician leaned back in his chair and spread his arms: "Every single one."

"All of them? Healing spells, mastery spells?"

The magician nodded.

"Accuracy and range increase with my Magic Projectile skill?"

"Exactly. Instead of reinventing the cartwheel every time, you learn it once and use it permanently."

"But I always have to cast several spells for that." Legolias looked indecisive.

"Correct. You need twice as long and it costs 5 mana more than the optimized variant where both spells are combined."

The elven mage leaned back and was silent for a while. Then he nodded absently and straightened up again: "Good. That may have disadvantages in the short term, but in the long term it will give me more spells and many more options. I'm going to switch to this new modular spell system. Please explain to me how best to do this for the rest of the consultation time."

***

Weylan lost interest when the two of them started talking about various textbooks and the finer points of spell research. Before he could move away inconspicuously, someone tapped him on the shoulder. In an attempt to dodge forwards, he scraped against the tree. He dropped to his knees, turned around and raised his hands, ready to fend off an attack. However, all he found in front of him was a mage with a long white beard, who looked at him disapprovingly: "Haven't you been taught that it's impolite to eavesdrop? And the wisdom you hear here costs a hefty sum. I hope you've brought enough."

"I'm not a magician. I just saw someone I knew."

"Friend of yours? Probably not. Unless you're planning a fun surprise."

Before Weylan could answer, the mage continued in a bad mood: "I hate surprises."

"No... well..." Weylan peeked around the tree. The elf was engrossed in his conversation and had not yet noticed him.

"Listen, dear Magus, this revenant's friend is not on good terms with me. Even though he seems like a nice guy himself, I would prefer not to be seen. I just wanted to see if his murderous comrade was around."

"Sounds like a lame excuse. Typical lying shadow mage."

"I'm not a magician."

"And I am an arcane knight." The old mage sounded increasingly angry: "I hate being lied to."

"No, really! What makes you think I'm a magician? I'm a shepherd!"

Analysis Skill resisted.

Skill increased. Mind Block (Journeyman III)

At journeyman level, Weylan was sure that the skill only increased if a successful analysis would have really bad consequences. He stifled a nervous swallow and looked at the mage with wide, trusting eyes.

"Don't look like a cat bear. That doesn't work with me. All right, then. You're not a magician. But the shadows have moved around you to hide you better." He put his index finger to his eye: "I can see that!"

"I have the Shadow affinity advantage, but no magical abilities."

The mage thought for a moment, then his expression suddenly became friendlier: "Such a powerful advantage and almost completely useless. What a shame. Would you like some tea?"

"Um... yeah?"

"Good, come along." The mage turned and marched with small and concentrated steps towards a nearby door. Weylan revised his estimate of the mage's age upwards by a decade. Even if he didn't act it, he seemed very frail, but covered it up well. A shallow ramp led to a door that opened directly into his living room. He beckoned Weylan to follow him, "Welcome to my humble home."

The magician stepped into the room, stamped briefly and his shoes opened like leather lotus flowers. He carefully stepped out and walked on. Weylan quickly untied his lace-up shoes, took them off and followed him. The mage waved his hand over a copper pot, from which the first steam rose shortly afterwards. He then fetched a porcelain container of tea from the shelf and prepared two cups. "I haven't even introduced myself yet. How rude of me. I am Magister Hephtagan. Teacher of advanced magical theory."

Weylan held out his hand: "I am Weylan."

The mage glanced casually at the hand and then walked past Weylan. While the tea steeped, Hephtagan picked a book from one of the lowest shelves, blew the dust off it and placed it on the table. He opened it and began to leaf through it: "So... elemental properties... fire... water... ice... shadow. There you go. Here it is: Primary properties: Darkness and cold. Secondary properties: friction lessness, illusion, deception, concealment."

Weylan nodded in understanding and waited a moment. When the mage made no further effort to speak, he sighed: "I have no idea what that means."

The magician turned the book over to him and pointed to a series of symbols: "There are the six main elements: Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Stone and Metal. Below these are minor elements such as ice and shadow. Minor elements have weaker properties and less application areas. At least that's what we teach at the mage academies. Basically, it's a political decision as to which elements belong to which group." He hesitated and then raised a warning finger: "Never mention that around magic theorists. You'd have an hour-long discussion on your hands. I only made that mistake once... Well, where was I... The Cathurian Empire counted shadow as a major element and air as a minor element. Simply because only a few powerful air spells were mastered back then. Back then, a light skin color was a sign of wealth and prestige. A suntan was seen as a sign of belonging to one of the lower social classes. Shadow magic as sun protection was one of the most sought-after services for magicians. Mages learned shadow spells during their basic training, whereas nowadays such spells are only found in a few grimoires and have to be learned through self-study. Primary properties are easier to create with a certain element... Am I boring you?"

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Weylan stifled a yawn and sat up straight again: "No, no. That's very interesting. I've just had a really long day. But tell me, how does this help me?"

Hephtagan shrugged his shoulders: "It doesn’t. But it's important background knowledge. You can't cast spells because your body doesn't have the mana channels and the necessary control skill to specifically shape mana into an arcane structure."

"Can I change that?"

"A short question, but one that requires a long answer. Basically, it is impossible to gain the Magic Talent perk after birth. You can never become a full mage, sorcerer or druid. However, some character classes allow you to gain limited access to spell control. Arcane knights can use artifacts otherwise reserved for mages. Sand walkers use wind magic to move faster and protect themselves from sandstorms. Some warrior classes such as paladins also have access to magical effects. There are also some craftsmen, but only at master level. Spell control can be learned. Acquiring the mana channels to use them is firmly linked to the character classes. Mana channels make the difference between non-mages and mages and half-mages."

"Wait... what are half-mages?"

"Mages with access to a limited list of spells and a much smaller mana pool. The classes I just mentioned are half-mages."

"Sounds simple. I just need these mana channels, everything else can be solved."

"Everyone has passive mana channels. However, there are only theoretical ways to activate them. You won't be surprised to learn that mages aren't interested in having additional competition. It is therefore officially forbidden to conduct research in this direction."

"Do you at least have an idea? A theory of your own?"

The magician chuckled: "Of course I have theories. Most magicians think about it at some point. The only problem is that nobody dares to conduct official experiments. The only suitable test subject would be someone who, like you, has an advantage without the associated magical talent. Otherwise he would have mana channels afterwards, but no way to use the mana. He would be able to pour out mana uncontrollably. At least until he learns a suitable character class."

"Wait, so half-mages need an innate talent for magic, something like shadow affinity?"

"Of course. There are affinities for all elements. Only then can you choose such a character class."

"Is it bad to lose mana?"

The mage rolled his eyes as he took a sip of tea: "No. Absolutely not. Unless it bothers you to have a killer headache all the time. Because that's what happens when your natural mana pool is empty. Or that your wounds stop healing naturally. Because they won't do that when your mana pool is empty."

"Wait, you said even craftsmen use magic?"

"Of course. Let me see, from your accent, you're probably from one of the villages on the edge of the border forest?"

Weylan nodded.

"Then tell me how you got your boards."

The shepherd's son shrugged his shoulders: "We'll get them from Hennek. The master carpenter of the village."

"You don't have a sawmill, do you?"

"I only have a vague idea what a sawmill is, but no. We didn't."

"Then how does Hennek make boards? No, don't answer that. That only works very laboriously with hand tools, without a saw powered by a waterwheel. A carpenter with master-level woodworking skills can use craft magic. Turning a tree trunk into planks in the usual standardized format is one of the most common. Even if the diameter or length of the tree trunk does not fit at all. As long as it was a log of a certain minimum thickness, he can turn it into the same volume of standardized planks. Other crafting spells adjust the size of workpieces on the spot, or allow parts to be temporarily held in place during assembly."

Weylan raised his hand defensively: "I should start taking notes. But I've got the essentials. Having a mana leak is bad."

"The correct term is... forget it. Mana leak actually explains the phenomenon better."

"But I have an advantage that I could use to control mana. Theoretically. It wouldn't kill me."

"Theoretically. But that won't do you any good unless there's a way to pump enough mana into your veins to activate them. If that works at all and you don't just burn out like a candle in a forge fire. Or suffer a mana cataclysm."

"What happens with a Kattar Klüsmus?"

The magician waved him off: "You don't really want to know. More tea?"

Weylan looked down at his cup, which was still almost full, and quickly took a few sips.

"Thank you. That's a lot of information. I'll have to think about it for a while."

"Of course. If you need more information, you can always come by here." He rummaged through a few drawers and then handed Weylan a palm-sized parchment with squiggly text: "Give this to someone at the entrance and the guards will let you through."

"Why are you doing this?" Weylan looked at the old man suspiciously.

The mage shrugged his shoulders calmly: "I'm just curious. Shadow magic is rare. No one here at the academy knows anything about it. If you manage to gain control over your magic, it will certainly be a research project that I will have a lot of fun with. Unfortunately, I don't get out of the academy much anymore."

Weylan looked at the old mage, for whom even a small staircase was an obstacle. "I can come by occasionally and tell you stories. I always seem to live in interesting times."

The magician chuckled: "That was a good one."

Weylan looked at him in irritation: "What do you mean?"

"Your allusion to the old Cathurian curse: May you live in interesting times."

Weylan opened his mouth... and then closed it again. "On a different note, can I buy a book of spells from you?"

"You can't learn spells. I thought I did..."

"I know. But I'm currently apprenticed to a merchant who also sells magical accessories and books in remote areas."

"You’re planning a class change to merchant? Your advantage will hardly do you any good. But at least it's a decent profession. Well, then your master had better come here himself. Grimoires are very expensive."

Weylan pulled out his gold bag and placed it on the table: "I still have a completely insane amount of gold from a quest. If you give me a discount, maybe I'll tell you a little about it."

The magician took the bag, opened it and looked inside. He stared into the opening for a moment, weighed the pouch with his hand and closed it again. "The story must be a good one. How a shepherd got his hands on so much gold is beyond my wildest weed dreams."

"You’re using dream weed?"

The mage coughed and looked quickly at the window. "Just a figure of speech." He coughed again, stood up with difficulty leaning on his cane and walked to a ceiling-high bookshelf. "I can only set the prices of books that belong to me. You would have to buy everything else through the academy. I can't help with that. But you can't get anything there without being a student."

"Can I borrow some books?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't know you. You have no idea what magic books are worth."

Weylan shrugged his shoulders: "That's right."

"I don't have many grimoires myself. I need most of them for my own research." He looked around then knelt down in front of one of the many bookshelves and pulled out a few books from the bottom row and placed them on the floor. A second row of books appeared behind them. He took one out, blew dust off it and handed it to Weylan: "The Fundamentals of Spell casting by Darandassaran the Elder. Study edition. Twenty gold pieces. That's less than half what you'd have to pay for it on the market. Even at that age. It's my own study copy. I returned it to the library after my undergraduate studies, but when I got a teaching position here years later, one of my former lecturers bought it from the library and gave it to me." He looked into space for a moment and smiled. "It would be nice if it was actively used again. Since you can't use it yourself, at least sell it cheaply to another young mage."

Weylan assumed that his old teacher had long since passed away. He picked up the book, placed it on the table and carefully opened it. The paper was slightly yellowed, but still firm and the writing perfectly legible. His lips moved as he read the first page.

The magician reached past him and leafed through the pages: "This should interest you the most. The table of contents. All the spells and artifact Theses we needed in basic study. Through the work of two centuries, mages begin with far more options than before. Even in the heyday of the Cathurian Empire, mages left their apprenticeship with only half a dozen spells and maybe two artifact theses. Now, with modular spells, we have a kit that gives mages all the building blocks we need to solve almost any problem."

Weylan took the book, impressed, and looked at the table of contents.

Spells level 1:

Create light

Create fire

Create air

Create water

Create earth

Create stone

Create metal

Modular storage

Clean

Patch

Merge

Heat

Cool

Disconnect

Reinforce

Weaken

Learned artifact theses (journeyman level):

Self-cleaning

Self-repair

Durability

Convenience

Size adjustment (+/- 25%)

"No healing spells?"

The mage snorted: "Of course not. Healing requires mana with a strong life affinity. Often called holy mana in layman's terms. This affinity of mana practically never occurs naturally, so you can only get it with the help of one of the gods or if you’re some kind of life attuned race."

"Really? In the legends..."

"Can mages heal wounds and bring the dead back to life. I know. Some of the stories are fictitious, others were about multiclass priest-mages. Or more often just healers who were in the party but not mentioned in the legends. It's more exciting in stories when a hero does everything instead of calling in a specialist for support at every opportunity."

"What about spells that make a warrior stronger? Or faster?"

The mage looked down at his decrepit hands: "Those only work for a few minutes. Too short to be useful."

"In a fight, that can mean the difference between victory and defeat."

"Of course. That's why you'll only find it in a grimoire about battle magic." He shrugged, "Not my field."

"I still have so many questions..."

The magician put his hand over his mouth and stifled a yawn. "Questions, for another time. I'll take you to the gate."

Weylan hastily drank the rest of his tea and followed the mage. When they had almost crossed the courtyard, loud shouts were heard from the entrance to the inner courtyard of the mage academy. The mage fell silent and looked around. When he understood what was being shouted outside, he grinned: "This is going to be fun. Come along."

***

A crowd of spectators had already gathered in front of the entrance, surrounding the marketplace. Directly opposite the entrance, a tall man had positioned himself in the classic leather apron of an alchemist. In his hand he held a metal pipe that ended in an incomprehensible construction. The man stroked his short hair and struck a dramatic pose: "Be afraid, magicians. Your monopoly on ranged damage will soon be history!"

The mage motioned to Weylan to stay in the background and pushed his way forward through the crowd. The other mages and adepts made way for him without comment. He looked the man up and down and stroked his beard. The spectators waited. He was obviously known and respected by everyone. "Did something happen to all the archers while I was taking a midday nap?"

"Don't scoff! Everyone knows that a bow is a ridiculous weapon compared to a fireball."

The old mage wanted to say something in reply, but was rudely interrupted. The man raised his metal pipe high above him with both hands: "This will break your power! The order of the world will be shaken!"

He poured a black powder into the tube and then stuffed a ball and a waxed cloth into it one after the other.

"This is the secret powder that will shake castles and destroy knights in their armor!"

The magician watched with interest: "Is that black powder?"

The man paused: "You... heard about that?"

"Sulphur, saltpeter and charcoal. In the ratio of... 10 parts sulfur, 75 parts saltpeter and 15 parts charcoal."

The man lowered his pipe in horror: "You're giving away the secret recipe, just like that, in public? Just to spoil my business?"

The magician shook his head slowly: "No, no. Why don't you light your powder first? Let us see its effect. Then you will understand."

"Ha! You will. And there's nothing you can do about it, because the metal of my musket is coated with aluminum crystals. Any spell you cast to swart my plans, will produce visible effects immediately!"

He lifted the construction to his shoulder and pointed the tube up into the sky. A movement of his finger set a gear and spring mechanism in motion. A piece of steel scraped across a piece of ignition iron, sparking. Smoke billowed out of the top of the pipe. Then yellow sparks. It sprayed out for a while, then the fire went out and stinking smoke rose upwards for a while longer. The man took the musket from his shoulder and looked at it as if it had just betrayed him. "I've tested this a dozen times in the real world. I mixed the black powder here exactly the same. It should work!"

The magician grinned: "None of the components have alchemical properties. It burns, but not very well. Even during the first plague, revenants kept coming out with this supposedly breakthrough invention, but it always ended in disappointment. In this world, reactions work alchemically. Not..." he searched for the right word for a moment: "... chemically."

The spectators clapped a little politely, then the crowd dispersed. The man put his weapon on his shoulder and shuffled away dejectedly. The mage turned to Weylan: "I think that's it for today. A bit too much excitement for an old man. You should go now. Don't forget your new book. When you've learned to access your shadow magic, you can always come back. Or if you feel like listening to the stories of an old man."

Weylan nodded gratefully to him: "Sounds exciting. I'll gladly accept your offer."