First and foremost, I needed to see if we had any writing tools at home. It would be incredibly fortuitous if we did, as it would greatly simplify my plan.

Although I may have previously downplayed the effectiveness of magic circles, they can be remarkably useful when employed in the right way. The issue is that you must be extremely precise when drawing them. One wobbly or off-angle line, and the spell you’re imbuing might be weaker than expected. Or, worse, it could rebound on you. Fortunately, I took calligraphy as an elective back in my previous life, which means I have a considerable amount of experience in precisely drawing intricate patterns.

The other issue, of course, is that they’re single-use. But for this plan, that will work perfectly.

The sun was starting to set as I approached my house. The sky, painted in shades of orange and pink, cast a picturesque golden hour glow over our cottage.

“Ah, finally,” I said cheerfully.

It really was nothing by the standards of this world—just a little cottage on the edge of town. Though compared to the bustling urban life I grew up with in my previous life, I’ve really come to appreciate how quaint it is.

As I got closer, I could see smoke gently billowing out from the chimney. The thatched roof and wooden beams gave it a nice rustic charm, and although the rough stone walls were adorned with messy, unkempt ivy, nothing felt out of place; it was perfect.

Suddenly, a very pungent smell assaulted my nose. I sniffed several times, trying to ascertain what it was. Given my distance, it mingled with the earthy scent of the surrounding forest, so it was hard to make out, but I eventually got it.

“Ah! Mom must be making her famous boar and beetroot stew,” I exclaimed, picking up my pace and excitedly jogging home.

The door squeaked loudly as I threw it open.

“I’m home!”

“Welcome back, Master Sieg,” Freia replied, pausing from her cleaning and gently bowing towards me.

I quickly glanced around but didn’t spot my mother or father. Freia, noticing this, said, “Your parents are out running an errand, but Mrs. Starsmith figured you’d be coming home soon and whipped up some stew for your dinner. I’ve already set it out for you.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you, Miss Freia.”

I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so saying I was famished would’ve been an understatement. I took my place at the dinner table.

“Thanks for the meal!”

With that, I began to dig in.

Mom hadn’t just prepared her boar and beetroot stew; she had also made a veritable feast. A pile of dinner rolls sat in the center of the table, along with a a plate serving honey cake for dessert. But the most surprising addition was the mead. Back on Earth, the legal drinking age was around 20, but no such restriction existed here. It reminded me of medieval Europe, where alcohol was often used as a substitute for water since it killed bacteria, preventing waterborne illnesses and leading to a healthier population. Win-win in my book!

As I began to chow down, I decided to see if Freia happened to know if we had any writing implements.

“Miss Freia?”

“Yes, Master Sieg?”

“I was wondering: do you know if we have anything to write with? Like a brush with ink or something?”

She pondered for a moment, stroking her chin, before replying, “Yes, I do believe Master Starsmith has some in the study. A quill, ink, and parchment if I’m not mistaken. But you ought to ask him for permission first.”

“Okay! Do you happen to know when they’ll be home?”

“I think they said it’d be around early evening. Perhaps within the hour?”

“Fantastic!”

So I had time to fully enjoy this meal before they got back. There really is a certain joy in savoring every moment of a home-cooked meal.

“We’re back!” exclaimed my father as he and my mother came in through the front door.

I ran up to my parents. “Welcome back, Mother, Father!”

“Oh, Sieg, did you have any luck with Ophelia?” my mother asked.

“She said she’d train me if I could provide a good reason for wanting to become a mage. Speaking of,” I said, turning to my father, “Miss Freia mentioned that you have a quill, ink, and parchment in the study. Could I possibly borrow them? I’d like to see if I can learn how to do some basic spell circles.”

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“I don’t see how that’d—” my father began, but was cut off as my mother stomped on his foot.

“Your father can certainly spare a quill and some ink for you, Sieg,” my mother chimed in with a devilish smile. “Can’t you, honey?”

“Y—Yes,” he replied. “I’ll go grab them for you. Uh, how much parchment will you need?”

“I think I can get by on just a few sheets. I’ll be breaking them up into smaller pieces for testing, so each sheet will go a long way.”

“Got it. Be right back.”

A moment passed before he returned holding the supplies.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you, Father! This will be a huge help in my studies and in getting Ms. Ophelia to teach me.”

"Sieg," my mother chimed in, "you may want to lay off on the 'Ms.' bit; she gets a touch offended by it."

"Ah, right. I learned that the hard way," I replied, looking down and trying to laugh it off.

With the writing tools in hand, I was one step closer to my goal. I just needed one more thing, and then I could put my plan into action.

----------------------------------------

The next day, I was off to the markets again, but this time I had my eyes set on Edgar’s Enchanted Emporium.

In all my research over the past few years, one thing became clear about enchanted items: it’s not a perfect science. Even the best enchanters in the land experience failures from time to time. It sounded almost like a video game—where you’ve perfected a crafting recipe, but there’s still that 1% chance of failure for some reason.

When you fail an enchantment, you can’t try again on that same item, rendering it useless. This likely meant there’d be a bin of duds in the shop just waiting to be tossed out. Perfect for my use!

As I entered the shop, the door made a little jingle like at the adventuring guild.

Items of every sort adorned the walls, creating a mesmerizing display, at least from my point of view. Weapons of all kinds hung in neat rows, from gleaming swords to intricate daggers. Various pieces of armor were arranged in an eclectic assortment, each one showcasing unique craftsmanship. Mannequins stood proudly, dressed in the finest armor, their polished surfaces reflecting the warm glow of the shop’s enchanted lights.

Okay, for the best chances of this working, I better play up the kid act, I thought.

I approached the shopkeeper, who was dressed in what I could best describe as a blacksmith’s outfit. Thick leather clothing and a work apron with all manner of tools attached to his belt gave him a rugged appearance. Yet, he was immaculately clean. I almost expected a layer of soot on everything, but there wasn’t a speck of dirt in sight. His rough face bore a noticeable shadow, despite it being bright and early in the morning. To top it off, he wore a monocle on his left eye. Quite the character, to say the least.

I noticed he was tinkering with a small piece of jewelry.

“Um, hello, sir?” I called out.

“Ah, a young visitor! What delightful serendipity!” he exclaimed. “What can this humble purveyor of enchantments do for you today, my dear little friend?”

I took a deep breath. “I was wondering if you have any failed enchantments on hand?”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Failed enchantments, you say? My, my, what a peculiar request! And from such a young inquirer! Whatever could you want with such troublesome trinkets?”

“Well,” I began, choosing my words carefully, “I’m just starting to learn about enchantments, and I thought studying failed ones might help me to understand the process better. You know, to learn where and how things can go wrong.”

Of course, this was a lie. I felt bad about it, but in reality, I just wanted to get something for free. Items with failed enchantments were basically the equivalent of trash, making it very likely that he'd freely hand one over. Though it wasn't all bad: if this worked out, it could become a valuable future business proposition that I could lean into.

The shopkeeper stroked his chin. “Ah, the curiosity of youth! A noble pursuit indeed! You seek for lessons hidden within failures. How wonderfully eccentric! Yes, I do believe we have a few such… misadventures, tucked away in the back.”

“Do you have any that are beaded necklaces?” I asked, feeling a bit more confident.

“As it so happens, you’re in luck! Just this very morning, I encountered a rather rebellious necklace that refused to embrace its enchantment. Hold on a moment while I fetch it for you,” he said, putting down what he was tinkering with and disappearing into the back of the shop.

Well, he’s certainly an interesting character, I thought.

I took a moment to look around. Besides the shopkeeper, I was the only one here. I had decided to come here immediately after breakfast. When I had strolled by previously, it was early afternoon and the shop was bustling. Perhaps the peak hours of this business were around then? It would make sense. Adventuring parties likely favored morning raids, so an afternoon visit to replenish gear seemed logical.

After a few minutes, he returned with a beaded necklace, intricately designed but lacking the usual magical glow.

“This necklace failed to take an enchantment,” he said, handing it to me with a flourish. “A stubborn little piece, but perhaps it holds the very secrets you seek!”

“Thank you so much!” I replied, genuinely excited. “This will be a huge help.”

“Glad to hear it,” he said with a smile. “May your studies be as fruitful as a midsummer harvest, young master!”

“Thanks again, Mr.—?”

“Edgar! Edgar the Enchanter, at your service!” he proclaimed with a grandiose bow. “And you, young master, are…?”

“My name’s Siegfried.”

“Ah, Siegfried! A name destined for greatness, I am sure of it! Do visit again when your enchanting adventures bear fruit,” he said, winking at me.

I nodded eagerly and made my way out of the shop, clutching the necklace tightly. This was exactly what I needed to move forward with my plans.

Now I had everything I needed for my plans: a beaded necklace and writing tools. The item my friend had mentioned from a tabletop role-playing game was called the Necklace of Fireballs, where each bead could be pulled off and thrown to cast a single-use fireball. This is what inspired my idea. If I could accurately draw magic circles onto each bead, I could imbue them with any spell I wanted. Then, by throwing the bead and channeling my mana into it, I could cast the spell.

Of course, it wasn’t as simple as it sounded. Drawing magic circles this small would be extremely difficult due to the precision required. I would need to practice drawing smaller and smaller circles on parchment before I felt comfortable risking it on the necklace. The challenge ahead was astounding, but the potential payoff made it worth the effort.

If this worked, it could revolutionize magical combat in this world. How nobody else had thought of it was mind-boggling. Regardless, I was willing to bet that it would pique Ophelia's interest in training me further.

In any event, I couldn't afford to fail.