As I began reading the second book assigned to me, I found it hard to focus, not because the material was difficult, but because my mind was elsewhere.

  What Everard told me last night echoed again, especially when Master Orindal told me that I must find my own reason for pursuing the path of the Brewmaster.

  “…hard work alone will not be enough for you to succeed...”

  After about fifty pages, I set my pen down. As always, my gaze drifted upward to the clouds, watching their slow, consistent movement. Whenever the world felt overwhelming, I had a habit of grounding myself this way, either by walking aimlessly or staring at something mundane. It helped me feel present and prevented me from making rash decisions.

  I was certain I enjoyed what I was doing. Over the past few days, the dream I’d held as a child had quietly rekindled. Back then, I loved reading about adventurers, usually about heroes who chased ancient treasures and helped others along the way…

  My cheeks burned.

  To think I was on this path because of that kind of childhood fantasy... it felt silly. Shameful, even. But I couldn’t help wondering: what kind of reason would be “enough” for others to accept that I truly wanted to be a Brewmaster?

  I sighed and returned to the first theory in the book. It explored the origins of the Golden Runes.

  According to the text, Golden Runes are remnants of Voren’s power. After his ascension to Eldarhood, he left behind a fraction of his power called the Golden Runes. Those able to wield them could become mages of immense power, swordmasters capable of splitting the earth, or archers who could see across miles of terrain.

  By the afternoon, I had reached a third of the book. Master Orindal emerged from the tavern and sat across from me in silence.

  He cleared his throat. “You seem distracted.”

  “I didn’t sleep much last night.”

  His eyes stayed on me. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”

  I considered denying it, but the seriousness of his expression made me set the book down. He was my teacher and who in the world would be better to ask than him?

  “Master Orindal, may I ask why you chose to become a mage?”

  He leaned back, eyes turning to the sky. The wind tugged gently at his fiery red hair. “I lived a quiet life in a small farming village. It was so tiny, everyone knew everyone. I would’ve lived out my days there, like the rest of them, if not for the Sotarans.”

  He paused.

  “They launched a large-scale attack on the borders of Gildenburg. I remember their soldiers clad in fabric armor, wielding halberds and scimitars as they crossed crossed our rivers and climbed through that hills that sheltered our village.”

  He smiled faintly. “It would’ve been a disaster if not for the Old Witch who lived nearby. You probably know about them, an Old Witch is someone untrained in ways of the Golden Runes. They chase magic through worn books bought from wandering merchants. But despite that, she saved us. She summoned a wind that scattered the soldiers. Smoke hissed up from the ground. Then she cast illusions so real they turned on each other. I watched with my own eyes as Sotaran men stabbed their allies, even themselves, all from fear and confusion.”

  “Horrifying,” I murmured.

  “Yes, but fascinating too. That day, I decided I wanted to be like her.” He chuckled, shaking his head at the memory. “Not to save the village but to use it against a playmate who used to play tricks on me. He stole my wooden horse and I wanted it back."

  I laughed. “Did she agree to teach you?”

  He shook his head, a smile playing along his lips. “Not until the next season came. She was stubborn, and when she finally gave in, she didn’t go easy on me. But since she hadn’t studied at any academy, so it wasn’t easy for her either. Still, she taught me the basics until she ran out of things to teach to me. Then one day, she gave me a pouch of coins and sent me to the city for proper schooling. The rest, as they say, is history.”

  His voice softened. “I last saw her four decades ago. I think she’s still alive. Probably still watching the horizon for Sotaran soldiers.”

  We both laughed. I pictured her as a stern and frowning lady, sitting on a wooden rocking chair as she starred out across the hills.

  “They’ll have to face your formidable master before they ever step foot in Gildenburg again.”

  Master Orindal straightened, drumming his fingers on the table. “Morgana, motivations matter but no motivation is lesser than another. They evolve through time. For change is inevitable. So what if I began my path wanting to bully the boy who stole my toy? Over time, that reason shifted to a nobler one. I found purpose. I became someone who stood for something larger than myself. So whatever your reason is, don’t be ashamed of it. You don’t owe anyone an explanation.”

  I exhaled slowly. The weight I’d been carrying on both shoulders and in my mind were suddenly lifted. For the first time since last night, I felt at ease. I bowed. “Thank you, Master. I’ll remember that.”

  He gave me a warm smile. We sat in silence again. His thoughts drifted far from the present, staring at a place only he could see.

  I turned back to my tasks, following his instructions until the butler arrived to collect me.

  The next morning, as I was preparing for class, Mother knocked on my door. She announced that the seamstress she’d hired would arrive in an hour to take our measurements.

  She glanced at the bag on my bed. But unlike before, when she would have openly shown her disgust, her expression remained unreadable.

  “Thank you, Mother. I’ll go to the parlor right away.”

  Her words were clear: I needed to fulfill my duties to the family before continuing my studies with Master Orindal. The welcoming party was in ten days. Everyone had their own roles to fullfil.

  I wondered if I could help with writing invitations. I used to handle that in the Imperial Palace, personally crafting and designing each letter. It had been my only source of joy in that place. So I poured all my effort into it.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Lina arrived shortly after. She helped fix my hair and applied a light touch of makeup. I ignored all the accessories she suggested, except for the necklace with the small emerald pendant. There was no need to dress extravagantly.

  We took the measurements in one of the rooms on the ground floor. My brothers were already there when I arrived. Everard looked like Mother had dragged him straight from a sparring session in the training hall. Thaddeus, by contrast, appeared indifferent to the situation, seated on the sofa with a book in his lap.

  “You’re here too,” Thaddeus said as I sat beside him.

  “She wouldn’t let any of us escape.”

  Thaddeus smiled at that.

  The seamstress arrived soon after, accompanied by two assistants. Father, Everard, and Thaddeus went into the adjacent room to have their measurements taken, while Mother and I browsed through the catalogues the staff had brought.

  Since this was an event to welcome my brothers home, I was expected to dress in something extravagant. It would also be the first time I showed myself publicly since the commotion I caused at the university.

  “I want this color,” I said, pointing at a lavender gown with layered skirts, “but make the skirt wider. The neckline should be high, and the sleeves long and trailing.”

  Mother stepped forward. “A high neckline? You aren’t married yet. There’s no need to wear something so severe. Do as she says on the dress, but change the neckline to a square cut.”

  The seamstress took notes before proceeding to measure me.

  “The dress will be ready in five days,” she said. “Do you have any accessories you want to pair with it?”

  “I’ll leave that to my mother,” I replied. “My only wish is for the look to be simple and elegant.”

  The seamstress nodded and began suggesting additions like lace trim and small amethyst beads to sew onto the skirt.

  “It’ll look like you’re glowing in the light,” she said. She also recommended a sapphire necklace that would complement both the lavender dress and the green of my eyes.

  I nodded at the suggestions that suited me and dismissed the ones that felt like a ploy to upsell us.

  “Mother, may I take my leave?” I asked once they began taking her measurements.

  “Let’s have lunch first before you go.”

  I sat back down and distracted myself with the catalogues until I remembered something. “Mother, may I ask how are the preparations for the invitation letters going?”

  She glanced at me, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. “Smoothly. I’m confident we’ll finish before the deadline.”

  I smiled. “If you’ll allow it, I’d like to help.”

  “I’ll gladly accept your assistance. Feel free to come by my office.”

  By eleven, all five of us had finished our measurements. Lunch was prepared in the dining hall. As soon as I finished eating, I excused myself and headed to the Mage Tavern.

  Master Orindal wasn’t there, neither inside nor outside the tavern.

  I took my usual seat and picked up where I left off with my work. By the end of the day, I had finished reading all the chapters in the book. Aside from that, My Deep Concentration skill had reached its fifth rank.

  But despite the hours I spent there, not once did I see a shadow of my master. Left with no choice, I decided I’d submit my work the next day.

  That night, sleep was elusive. And my thoughts refused to quiet. I ended up reviewing my notes under the dim glow of my lamp, letting the repetition lull my mind until my body’s exhaustion finally caught up.

  The next morning, I went straight to Master Orindal’s house and knocked on the door to announce my arrival.

  He answered with a dark look, eyes shadowed from lack of sleep.

  “Take your seat. I’ll prepare something for us to eat.”

  He returned with trays of steaming bread and a jug of lemonade, sweetened with an ingredient he called Crystallized Honey.

  “It’s good for boosting recovery,” he said as he poured me a cup.

  As we ate, he skimmed through my notes. Occasionally, his brow furrowed, making me worry I’d written something that contradicted the book. But more often, he would smile faintly and nod to himself, a quiet pride softening his usually stern expression.

  “So,” he said finally, “how does the book define magic through the lens of the Golden Runes?”

  “Magic is a state in which a mage mimics the truth.”

  “But if all magic is mimicry, then no new truth can ever be created by a mage,” he replied, setting the notes down. “That would mean Magesmiths aren’t mages. The same for Brewmasters and Alchemists.”

  Magesmiths specialized in crafting magical ornaments and artifacts. They often embedded spells into gems, allowing even those without access to Golden Runes to activate magic through them. Most of these items were single-use item. Once the seal was broke broken, the magic was also spent and the artifact was rendered useless.

  “Magesmiths and Brewmasters are certainly mages. Magesmiths only create the vessels where magic will be placed. The ornaments and artifacts are their truths. For it is their own their craftsmanship. But the spells inside? They’re merely imitations. As for Brewmasters… their potions mimic the truth. A pain relief potion, for example, eases discomfort but doesn’t address the source of pain. So when the effects wear off, the patient ends up needing another vial just to feel normal again.” I looked up. “That’s why I’d suggest giving the patient a healing potion instead.”

  Master Orindal smiled with a glint of pride. “That’s a very precise explanation. I have another question for you. Do you know the Three Laws?”

  I nodded. It was discussed at the very beginning of the book. The Three Laws were a set of rules that governed the general usage of magic.

  Master Orindal cleared his throat.

  “The First Law. Thou shall not use Dark Runes. Mages are forbidden to draw power from the Eldar of Chaos or any of his demons. No one is allowed to contact or summon their physical forms into our world.”

  “The Second Law. thou shall not sacrifice the flesh of man in rituals. Human sacrifice is forbidden in the practice of magic.”

  “And the Third Law. Thou shall not use the power of Eldars, Angels, or any Higher Beings unless there’s an imbalance in the world. It is believed that only when demons break from their prison in the Sealed World should we seek the aid of a Higher Being.”

  I nodded again, absorbing each word. Eldars were powerful beings that ruled over the world, each governing a unique Aspect. Voren, for instance, was the Eldar of Cultivation. Those who followed him were granted access to his power, the Golden Runes. Angels and other Higher Beings, while divine, weren’t as powerful as the Eldars. They were often considered as minor deities and usually has a small cult revering them.

  “Master, I have a question. It’s about the Third Law. It mentions an imbalance. But what kind, exactly?”

  He leaned back in his chair, fingers resting on his chin. “That’s a hard question, and only those at the top of the Arcane Conclave can determine whether something qualifies as an imbalance. But I can give you an example... demons escaping from the Sealed World.”

  I shivered. “Is that even possible?”

  He shrugged. “The Great Sages told us very little about the magic they used to imprison the demons. But it’s believed to be ancient... perhaps even older than the power granted by any Eldar. Regardless, the Three Laws have been passed down to every mage in history. They existed long before the Arcane Conclave and some say even before the world itself. Any mage caught breaking them faces harsh punishment. The lightest sentence is a swift death. The worst is… torture.”

  “Do you know anyone who’s broken them?”

  Orindal chuckled. “There will always be a fool who thinks he’s strong enough to contact a demon. But you must never trust anything that comes out of a demon’s mouth. They’re monsters made of magic. It means they're imitations. Demons try to mimic us, to fool us into thinking they’re just like us.”

  He paused, his expression darkening.

  “During the Great Demon Hunt, the previous mage organization conducted an extensive purge. They hunted down anyone practicing or accessing Dark Runes. Those found guilty were publicly beheaded without trial. Some had their mana cores shattered after surviving thirty days of torture.”

  His tone turned grim. “There’s nothing crueler than destroying a mage’s core. It’s like cutting off a swordsman’s dominant arm.”

  I fell silent, haunted by the memory of an execution from my past life.

  “What a cruel way to live.”

  He sighed. “It is. But the Conclave believes harsh examples are necessary. They must teach offenders a lesson no one will forget.”

  He pushed the next book toward me, then paused and pulled it back.

  “No more reading for today. For the rest of the lesson, I’ll teach you about potion-brewing equipment. It’s essential, especially since you want to specialize in that field.”

  He flicked his hand. The round table stretched into a long wooden one. Glassware and tools began appearing atop it, each with a soft pop.

  “Now let’s begin our third lesson.”

  Chapter 14 will drop next week on Monday (May 5). I hope you're enjoying my story so far, have a great weekend ahead!