《Iron-Port (Out of City Professor)》 Chapter 1 - A Year On Journal ¨C Day 1 I¡¯m writing this to make sense of what¡¯s happened to me¡ªand in the small hope that, if I don¡¯t find them, my friends will at least know what became of me. To put it simply, I believe I am Gine Silverbranch Walker. His body, his belongings¡­ and his power. A level 30 Warlock-Sorcerer. For now, I¡¯ll keep a low profile. I hope I can find you first. Entry Ended.
I wandered through the bustling fish market, scanning the stalls for any good deals. The salty scent of the sea mixed with the aroma of fresh fish and sizzling street food. Vendors called out their wares, their voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony of trade. Then, a loud commotion ahead disrupted the usual hum of the marketplace. Curious, I pushed through the colorful stalls, weaving past shoppers until I reached a large gathering. Three distinct groups stood in tense opposition, but the most conspicuous were the city guards. They did nothing to calm the situation¡ªif anything, they seemed eager for a fight. As I stepped closer, the source of the conflict became clear. A standoff between what appeared to be traveling nobles and a member of the Romioe family was escalating. Both sides shouted at each other, their voices rising with growing hostility. ¡°I told you, I don¡¯t understand you! But if you don¡¯t move now, I will have you forcibly removed!¡± The Romioe leader¡¯s face flushed red as he barked his demand. ¡°Useless peasant! The Atsh do not take orders from those who do not speak the Holy Tongue!¡± a tall, hooked-nose man spat back in Tai¡¯albi. My linguist skill triggered the moment I heard the foreign words, my mind racing to decipher their meaning. A smile tugged at my lips as I stepped forward, moving between the two groups. I took a slow breath and addressed the hooked-nose man¡¯s party with a respectful bow. ¡°Good sirs, please forgive these lowly ones. They are still learning and do not yet know better.¡± As I spoke, I performed the customary gesture to show deference, drawing upon everything I knew about Tai¡¯al customs. A brief silence followed before the hooked-nose man, regaining his confidence, nodded. ¡°It is fine, child, but the Atsh have seen negative spirits. They must be removed.¡± Before he could continue, the red-faced Romioe leader cut in. ¡°What is he saying?¡± I turned to him with a placating smile. ¡°He says that the Atsh have seen evil spirits and wish to cleanse them¡ª¡± ¡°But why couldn¡¯t they just say it in Vaelithian?¡± the Romioe man snapped, jabbing a finger at the Atsh delegation. I barely suppressed a wince. "Because, due to their religion, they must only speak in Tai¡¯albi well following an Atsh." Even as I simplified the explanation, I could see the understanding slipping from his expression. He must not be a high-ranking member of the Romioe family. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t care what this Atstsh says! I want them gone, and if they don¡¯t leave, I¡¯ll have them removed.¡± His voice rose again, laced with growing irritation, and he sneered as a bit of spit flew in my direction. I stared at him, momentarily stunned by his lack of tact. Turning back to the Atsh group, I saw the hooked-nose man¡¯s anger simmering beneath his composed exterior. The Romioe man had no idea they understood him perfectly. I sighed, preparing to diffuse the situation. Before I could speak, another figure approached, clad in a more refined version of the Romioe leader¡¯s attire. The city guards immediately straightened up, their posture shifting from idle spectators to disciplined sentinels. ¡°What is going on here?¡± His voice carried authority, and the market seemed to hush in response. The red-faced man paled almost instantly, his previous bravado evaporating. ¡°Sir Matthew, I¡ªI¡¯m handling it. Nothing for you to worry about.¡± But he stopped speaking and turned to the hooked-nose man. ¡°I hope His Holiness'' duty hasn¡¯t been interrupted?¡± He spoke in fluent Tai¡¯albi, and I heard the quiet jingle of coins exchanging hands. I sighed. ¡®I have been in this world for a year now, and playing translator is one of the only ways I¡¯ve been able to make money.¡¯ As I turned to leave, a man accompanying Sir Matthew quickly approached me. ¡°Here.¡± He pressed a few silver coins into my hand before returning to his master. As I walked away, Sir Matthew¡¯s voice rang out, berating the red-faced man. Slipping the three silver pieces into my bag of carrying, I made my way toward Old Barry Stall. ¡®Not bad.¡¯ Normally, I could make a gold coin, but in recent months, the Romioe family had been establishing themselves in the market, and most of them could speak both the traders'' speech and Tai¡¯albi. It had been putting me out of a job. ¡°Like it was much of one anyway,¡± I muttered as my stomach growled with hunger. I lean against a wall and close my eyes as I relive the moment I came here.
1 Year Ago I was walking home from university, chatting with friends about Depths and Dangers. We were deep in discussion, planning what to do with the Lich¡¯s hoard, when suddenly, a sharp static noise and a ripping sound filled the air. I blinked, and in an instant, I was no longer where I had been. Instead, I stood in an unfamiliar street, bathed in midday sunlight. I raised a hand to shield my eyes as I took in my surroundings¡ªan alleyway cluttered with far too much trash, nestled between two unfamiliar buildings. ¡°What the fuck...?¡± I muttered. Looking down, I realized I wasn¡¯t wearing my usual clothes. Instead, I was dressed in a dark, tailored jacket adorned with intricate embroidery of dragons and stars¡ªclearly of high quality. Underneath, a light-blue tunic with matching embroidery peeked out, and I wore well-fitted dark blue pants with black shoes to complete the ensemble. A sudden wave of dizziness hit me, and I braced myself against the nearby wall. That¡¯s when I felt the unfamiliar weight of a satchel slung over my shoulder. Hesitantly, I looked down at it, a sinking feeling settling in my stomach. Dread clawed at my mind as I recognized what it was. ¡°That¡¯s a bag of holding,¡± I whispered. Present Day
"Focus, Gine. You still need to get food." As I walked toward Old Barry¡¯s stall, I spotted his ever-carefree smile, a pipe lazily hanging from his lips, smoke curling into the air as he kept a half-hearted watch over his catch. "Ahh, look who¡¯s come crawling back. Silver well dried up already?" He smirked, tilting his straw hat back as he regarded me with amusement. "If I had a choice, I wouldn¡¯t be here, Barry." I wasn¡¯t exactly eager to buy from him, but my options were limited. "Well, if you don¡¯t want to be here, I could just not sell to you," he mused. "You¡¯re too greedy for that," I shot back, eyeing the fish for anything remotely fresh¡ªnot an easy task. Barry never sold his best fish at the market. "True, very true," he admitted with a chuckle. "But I don¡¯t think you¡¯ve ever said a single nice thing to me. Maybe I¡¯ll make an exception just for you." His smirk widened, daring me. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. I met his gaze without flinching. "I wouldn¡¯t compliment you even if you didn¡¯t constantly try to screw me over. Your fish are barely edible." He let out a bark of laughter, completely unfazed. "Well, if you want something better, stop feeding the rats." His words dripped with mockery, but I forced down the surge of irritation rising in my chest. Ignoring him, I picked out five of the largest and freshest fish he had. "Two silver and three copper," he said, holding out his hand. I narrowed my eyes. "That should only be one silver and nine copper." "It normally is," Barry conceded, grin widening. "But you picked my best fish. And for such a loyal customer, I only want to offer you the right price." His voice oozed that slick, practiced charm only a salesman could master. "Fine," I muttered, slapping the money into his palm before turning on my heel and walking away. He wasn¡¯t wrong¡ªI had picked the best ones. But I knew the truth. Barry would have raised the price on me either way. With the fish in hand, I made my way home. I didn¡¯t dare put them in my bag¡ªusing a magic item so carelessly would be far too suspicious. Instead, I muttered a quiet cast Prestidigitation under my breath, a simple cantrip that wouldn¡¯t trigger any of the city¡¯s magic alarms. Still, just to be safe, I picked up my pace. Leaving the fish market behind, I entered one of Iron-Port¡¯s main residential districts. The streets were just as lively¡ªchildren ran around, likely avoiding their chores, while people of all ages bustled past, going about their daily lives. I even spotted a few dwarves trudging along on their way to the merchant quarter. I paused in front of a spacious home, large enough to house a full family. "Still for sale, huh?" I muttered, eyeing the faded sign before turning away. As I moved deeper into the city, the atmosphere shifted. The buildings became more worn-down, some barely standing, others housing businesses that no one wanted to live next to. The further I walked, the more the city¡¯s wealth¡ªor lack thereof¡ªbecame apparent. Turning down a narrow alley, I stepped into a small clearing where a rundown building stood. It wasn¡¯t much¡ªcertainly not big¡ªbut it was home. Outside, two kids swung sticks at each other in a mock swordfight. The moment they saw movement, they froze, eyes wide. Then, recognizing me, they dropped their "weapons" and sprinted over. "Mr. Walker! Mr. Walker! Did you bring food?!" The taller of the two, Jaces, grinned up at me, his gap-toothed smile bright despite the grime on his face. I couldn¡¯t help but smile back. "Yes, Jaces, I did." Before I could say more, the other boy cut in. "Mr. Gine, Aayar broke my sword again!" Clive, shorter than Jaces and with dark brown hair, pouted as he held up the broken stick. I sighed. "I¡¯ll see if I can fix it, Clive, but stop annoying her. You know how this always ends." At least he had the decency to look embarrassed, glancing away under my gaze. "Now go get the others. This is Old Barry¡¯s fish, and I want it cooked and eaten fast." The boys didn¡¯t need to be told twice. They bolted off, their sticks forgotten, eager to spread the news. As I stepped inside, the dimly lit room greeted me with its familiar warmth. A single ladder led to the upper floor, and though the building¡¯s exterior was worn-down, the interior was a stark contrast. Even in the low light, everything was unnaturally clean¡ªno dust, no musty scent, just smooth, well-maintained stone. The long wooden table dominated the space, surrounded by fourteen mismatched chairs, each in surprisingly good condition. The only other notable feature was a cooking stove with a pot resting on top. Three kids were inside¡ªone seated at the table, engrossed in a book, while the other two stood by the stove. The moment I entered, Alex and Sofie turned toward me. ¡°Mr. Walker, what did you get this time?¡± Alex, the younger of the two, asked eagerly, his bright eyes fixed on the bundle in my hands. ¡°Fish, Alex. And¡­ sorry, Sofie, it¡¯s from Old Barry.¡± Her face darkened for a brief moment, but she quickly masked her frustration before Alex could notice. ¡°It¡¯s fine, Mr. Walker,¡± she said with a small sigh. ¡°Better than nothing. Come on, Alex, let¡¯s cook this before everyone shows up.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s!¡± He practically bounced back to the stove, excitement bubbling over. He did love cooking. I pulled out a chair and sat next to Aayar, the oldest of the kids. She was absorbed in a book, its worn cover displaying the title Call Forth the Great and Small Spirits. ¡°Enjoying your reading?¡± I asked, glancing at her. She turned to me, her emerald eyes almost glowing in the dim light. ¡°Yes, it¡¯s a good read. And¡­ thank you for letting me borrow it.¡± She hesitated, looking uncharacteristically unsure, before adding in a quieter voice, ¡°I lost my temper with Clive again¡­¡± She turned away slightly, letting a few strands of crimson hair escape from beneath her flat cap. She always kept her hair hidden, preferring the practicality of boy¡¯s clothing over anything else. I sighed. ¡°I understand, Aayar. Really, I do. And I won¡¯t tell you to stop defending yourself¡ªbut remember, we¡¯re not allowed to use magic. If you trigger the wards¡­¡± I pulled off my glasses and rubbed the bridge of my nose. ¡°Where¡¯s the sword now?¡± ¡°Here.¡± She placed the broken wooden sword on the table. ¡°I know, but I only used a cantrip. You said the wards don¡¯t detect them.¡± I examined the break¡ªa clean snap at the hilt, the kind that required some force. ¡°I¡¯m less concerned about the wards and more about someone seeing you.¡± I aligned the pieces and cast Mend, watching as the wood seamlessly fused back together. ¡°No one saw,¡± she insisted, gripping her book a little tighter. ¡°I swear.¡± She hesitated for a moment, then abruptly changed the subject. ¡°Are you going to the library again today?¡± I noticed the shift but decided to let it slide. ¡°Yes. I think an opportunity might present itself today.¡± Aayar let out a small huff, tucking her stray hair back beneath her hat. ¡°You say that every time you go there. And you go there a lot.¡± I let out a light laugh as more of the kids poured into the house. First came Clive, followed closely by Jaces. Then, in order, Mira, Tobin, Nia, Rex, Elise, Garret, and last but not least, Lina. As each took their seats, the room filled with a familiar warmth¡ªthe hum of conversation growing louder with every new arrival. The air grew rich with the smell of fish soup, making stomachs rumble in anticipation. With a flick of my hand, I cast Dazzling Lights, sending four glowing orbs to each corner of the room. Their soft golden light pushed back the dimness, illuminating the space where sunlight barely filtered through the boarded windows. ¡°Mr. Walker, will you teach us magic?¡± little Nia piped up, her wide eyes filled with curiosity. Before I could answer, Clive jumped in with all the bravado of a self-declared hero. ¡°Mr. Walker will teach us! And when he does, I¡¯ll become a Mage Knight, and we¡¯ll all live in luxury!¡± He puffed out his chest, as if he could already see himself in shining armor. Aayar let out a snort. ¡°You? A Mage Knight? You need discipline and brains, and you don¡¯t have either.¡± Clive¡¯s face immediately turned red. ¡°I have brains! And I have discipline! Right, Mr. Walker?¡± ¡°I want to be a healer when I learn magic!¡± Garret shouted from across the table. ¡°And I want to be a cook!¡± Alex beamed as he and Sofie passed out bowls of steaming fish soup with slices of yesterday¡¯s bread. As I took a spoonful of the soup, I fought the familiar grimace that threatened to creep onto my face. Even after a year, I still hadn¡¯t fully adjusted to the taste of the food here. But I had a solution. Under my breath, I cast Prestidigitation, subtly altering the flavor just enough to make it palatable. I never told Alex that I wasn¡¯t a fan of his cooking¡ªit would break his heart. But I had a feeling Aayar had noticed. She was a bit too sharp sometimes, though at least she hadn¡¯t said anything. As the meal wound down, I finished eating and headed upstairs to change. Pulling clothes from my bag, I switched out of my commoner¡¯s outfit, replacing it with attire of far better quality¡ªa look that spoke of money I didn¡¯t truly have. By the time I returned, some of the kids had already headed back outside, while the others were finishing up the cleaning. Before I could leave, Aayar approached me, her expression serious. ¡°Mr. Walker, we¡¯re running low on money.¡± There was a slight crease in her brow, worry flickering beneath her usual confidence. ¡°Do you really need to keep going to the library?¡± I smiled and knelt slightly to meet her eyes. ¡°I know it seems like a waste with how little we have, but trust me¡ªif things go well today, that won¡¯t be a problem anymore.¡± She took a slow breath and exhaled. ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Aayar studied me for a moment before giving a slight nod and turning toward the ladder, heading upstairs. I wasn¡¯t just giving her false hope¡ªI had a good reason to believe today would be different. A week ago, I had used the Eye of Oun, it casts weaker divination spell that grants only vague sensations instead of clear visions. And when I cast it, I had felt a strong sense of opportunity waiting for me at the library. That was enough for me to take the risk. With that in mind, I activated my Mask of Faces, subtly shifting my outfit to something more ordinary. There was no need to draw attention until I reached the better parts of the city. Chapter 2 - Interview and Questions Journal ¨C Day 1 People have been giving me strange or even hostile looks, and, well, I don¡¯t understand what they¡¯re saying. But judging by their expressions, I doubt it¡¯s anything friendly. Thankfully, my Linguist Feat seems to be helping me pick up the language quickly¡ªI can already grasp bits and pieces of their conversations. I haven¡¯t cast any magic yet, just in case I end up scaring the locals. So far, I haven¡¯t seen any other races besides humans. The fashion here is a fascinating blend of Victorian-era style fused with fantasy, though it leans more toward Victorian aesthetics. As for the technology, it seems to align with the Industrial Revolution¡ªsteam power, early machinery, and primitive firearms. I¡¯ll have to cut this entry short. It looks like I have company. City guards? Police? Either way, they¡¯re headed straight for me. Entry Ended.
Gine To call the library a library would be an understatement. It was more akin to a museum¡ªif museums held not just books but living examples of everything one might wish to research. As I stepped through the double doors, the illusion on my clothes had long since been dismissed. My polished shoes clicked against the black-and-white marble floor, the sound sharp in the vast, high-ceilinged entrance hall. Ahead, a massive desk of Lansern Oak¡ªa dark red, polished testament to its expense¡ªstood as the final barrier to entry. Mage lights cast a warm glow over the many paintings adorning the walls, their subjects watching silently. Behind the desk sat Lady Amber, the ever-diligent receptionist. She barely glanced up from the thick leather-bound book in front of her before speaking. ¡°Ah, Maester Gine. Here again today?¡± ¡°Yes, Lady Amber.¡± I gave her a polite nod. ¡°I recently came across a theory that intrigued me. I want to verify its accuracy before proceeding further.¡± Not a lie, but certainly not the real reason I¡¯d been here so frequently over the past week. She arched a delicate brow. ¡°It must be quite the theory to warrant so many visits. May I ask what it is?¡± I allowed a small smile. ¡°I¡¯ve been reviewing the work of Reginald Thornewell. He once proposed that cleaning a wound could prevent infections and other illnesses.¡± I paused for effect. ¡°You can understand why I¡¯d want to be cautious with my research.¡± The Empire, as advanced as it was in many fields of magic, still had an archaic view of medicine. Many saw no connection between hygiene and health, relying solely on magic to cure ailments. Amber tilted her head, interest flickering in her sharp eyes. ¡°Wasn¡¯t that theory disproved? I recall multiple scholars¡ªalong with the St. Alaric Society¡ªrefuting his claims.¡± That was surprising. Normally, she was more invested in the logs and records of the library than in idle conversation. I nodded. ¡°Yes, but upon closer examination, I found that much of the research used magic to keep patients healthy while allowing wounds to remain unclean. I believe that altered the results.¡± Her book snapped shut, a rare sign of genuine interest. ¡°And why would that matter?¡± ¡°Because magic affects the body in ways we don¡¯t fully understand. If it enhances natural healing, it could be compensating for the infections, masking the true risks of untreated wounds.¡± I adjusted my glasses. ¡°If I¡¯m right, we¡¯ve been dismissing an entire field of medicine due to a flawed approach.¡± Amber exhaled slowly, her expression unreadable. ¡°If you¡¯re right, you might upset quite a few people.¡± A knowing smile flickered across her lips before she held out her hand. ¡°I seem to have that effect,¡± I said, placing my last gold coin into her palm. With that, I stepped past the desk and into the library proper. My destination was the medical section, where I pulled down several research papers relating to Dr. Reginald Thornewell and the so-called "disproving" of his claims. "One of the few men with any real morals," I muttered to myself as I reread his speculations and the so-called "proof" against them. The methods his peers used to refute him were, at best, questionable and, at worst, outright unethical. "They¡¯re lucky medical ethics are practically nonexistent here." I hadn¡¯t realized I¡¯d spoken aloud until a deep, gruff voice answered. ¡°Who was lucky?¡± I turned to see a portly man in a well-tailored black suit, complete with a bowler hat and an almost comically thick peppered mustache. I smiled. ¡°Lord Bertram, good to see you again. How have you been?¡± He let out a hearty laugh, his round frame settling into the chair across from me. ¡°Busy. Very busy. You may have heard that our illustrious university has just received a rather large grant from the Crown and the Gray Duchy.¡± He exhaled heavily, shaking his head. I raised an eyebrow. ¡°I assume that means more work for you?¡± ¡°More work for everyone involved,¡± he grumbled. ¡°But enough about that. I¡¯m actually here for you.¡± Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. That caught my attention. I closed the book, mentally noting the page number. "This might be it!" I kept my expression neutral, allowing only a polite look of curiosity. ¡°Oh? What business do you have with me?¡± Bertram leaned forward slightly. ¡°As I said, the university has recently received a significant amount of funding, and with that, we¡¯re expanding. That means hiring. And I want to hire you.¡± I blinked. That was not what I had expected. I had assumed my opportunity would come from securing funding for my infection research, not an outright job offer. ¡°You¡­ want to hire me?¡± I asked, still processing. ¡°I¡¯m honored, but surely there are better candidates?¡± Bertram chuckled at my expression. ¡°That did catch you off guard, didn¡¯t it? Not easy to surprise you. But yes, I want you on board. On paper, there may be others more qualified, but I believe you¡¯re more capable than you let on.¡± I frowned slightly. ¡°I assume you received some pushback for suggesting me?¡± At that, his jovial demeanor faltered slightly. He scratched his mustache, looking vaguely annoyed. ¡°Well, yes. Which brings me to the slightly annoying part of all this.¡± I narrowed my eyes. ¡°Which is?¡± He hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. ¡°Gine¡­ I know you try to avoid politics, but¡­¡± He sighed. ¡°Alright, look. I know this might be a sore subject, but I also know you¡¯re not doing well financially.¡± I kept my face impassive. He continued before I could refute him. ¡°You¡¯ve done a good job of hiding it. Most haven¡¯t noticed. But those of us who know you¡ªreally know you¡ªcan see the minor illusion spells you use to keep your clothes looking pristine. We know you alter their appearance to make them seem newer than they are.¡± His eyes locked onto mine, a silent warning against denying it. ¡°You say your family hasn¡¯t been sending as much as you¡¯d hoped.¡± That part wasn¡¯t exactly a lie. In the year I had been here, I had carefully crafted a noble backstory to gain access to places like this. I never explicitly claimed a family connection, but I also never corrected the assumptions others made. Bertram softened his tone. ¡°Look, I know you need this job, which is why I want you to hear me out before reacting.¡± I exhaled. ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll be open-minded.¡± He straightened. ¡°Because of the university¡¯s expansion, we¡¯ll be hiring a number of new professors. But¡­ there will be some competition.¡± I didn¡¯t like the sound of that. ¡°What kind of competition?¡± He winced. ¡°You may have to engage in some politicking.¡± I groaned, rubbing my temples. ¡°How bad are we talking?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not as bad as you think,¡± he assured me quickly. ¡°We¡¯re introducing several new fields of study. Since we have no existing professors for them, we¡¯re hiring multiple candidates and keeping those who perform the best. The professors with the highest-achieving students will retain their positions.¡± I leaned back in my chair, considering. ¡°So I¡¯d have to outperform any other professors in my field?¡± ¡°Essentially, yes.¡± I frowned. ¡°And how are students assigned to professors?¡± Bertram¡¯s expression darkened slightly. ¡°At first, students will choose their own professors. They can switch between instructors until the first exam. After that, any transfers will require approval from both professors.¡± ¡°That explains the need for politicking,¡± I mused. If students were the ones deciding, then attracting and retaining them would be crucial. Bertram nodded. ¡°You have some time to think about it, but the sooner you decide, the better. If you give me an answer before I leave today, I can start pushing the paperwork through.¡± As he stood to leave, I remembered the most important question. ¡°What subject would I be teaching?¡± For the first time since we sat down, he grinned. ¡°Magical Biology. Your research has been very interesting, after all.¡± And with that, he left me alone to think.
Alistair The journey to Iron-Port was long and uncomfortable¡ªthough not for the usual reasons. The roads were well-maintained, and the carriage itself was more than luxurious. No, what made this trip unbearable was the company I was forced to keep. I glanced at the two other occupants. Sitting across from me was my fianc¨¦e, Lavinia von Gray¡ªthe youngest daughter of Duke Gray and, by far, the most insufferable of his brood. ¡°What¡¯s with the sour look this time?¡± she asked, her voice sickeningly sweet, as if her words were coated in honey meant to rot my teeth. She flicked open her ornate fan, lazily waving it near her painted lips. ¡°Or are you still pouting over not being allowed to hunt that Root Spire?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not that.¡± I scowled. ¡°It¡¯s this¡ªbeing stuck in this carriage with you two, being sent to that university for a whole year.¡± I still couldn¡¯t believe my father was making me go to Iron-Port. It was a backwater city, far from the Empire¡¯s heart. If I knew a curse strong enough to bypass his wards, I would have used it the moment he sentenced me to this academic exile. ¡°Oh, haven¡¯t you gotten over that yet?¡± Lavinia sighed, shaking her head. Her golden hair swayed slightly with the motion. ¡°That was a week ago.¡± I scoffed. ¡°I had a perfectly good exemption letter to stay at Gold Heart. I should be there, refining my work, making connections with the highest circles of the Empire. Securing my future.¡± Ignoring her smirk, I turned my attention to the third occupant of our carriage. ¡°Anyway, what are you reading, Eric?¡± Eric had spent most of the morning behind his newspaper, barely acknowledging us. At the sound of his name, he lowered the paper just enough for his earth-brown eyes to meet mine. ¡°Nothing too interesting,¡± he said in that ever-practical tone of his. ¡°Oh? You seemed quite focused,¡± Lavinia pressed, grasping at anything that might entertain her. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before replying, ¡°It¡¯s mostly news on the new hires at Iron Gates¡­ and a murder spree in the poorer districts.¡± I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Anyone important among the new professors?¡± If Iron Gates had managed to secure someone truly notable, that might be worth paying attention to. Eric turned the paper around, revealing an article. ¡°No one particularly prestigious. Though they did mention an unknown hire¡ªa certain Gine Silverbranch Walker.¡± I studied the illustration beneath the headline. A dark-haired man with glasses stared back at me, his gray eyes almost silver in the inked rendering. Chapter - 3 Into Iron-Port Journal ¨C Day 1 Subduing the guard was easier than expected. It seems that along with this new body, the combat skills of my character have also transferred to me. That raises an unsettling question¡ªwhat else has carried over? They were completely unprepared to deal with my magic. That much was clear. But in the aftermath, I learned something¡­ troubling. I used Read Thoughts on the lead guard, hoping to understand why they attacked me. I wasn¡¯t prepared for what I found. If you ever use Read Thoughts, I strongly advise against it. It¡¯s too personal¡ªan invasion beyond mere observation. Their emotions, their biases, their raw hatred poured into me. The guards had no true justification for their assault. No orders, no bounty¡ªjust a deep-seated disdain for me. Or¡­ for my kind? I believe more will arrive but something seems off about it. For now, I¡¯ll use Mask of Faces to blend in with the locals. Entry Ended.
Alistair Nothing much happened after that. Eric returned to his reading, and Lavinia continued gazing out the window, lost in thought. About an hour later, we finally arrived in Iron-Port. There was no distinct marker indicating the city¡¯s boundaries¡ªone moment, we were on the open road, and the next, we were surrounded by cobbled streets and tightly packed buildings. Our carriage moved through the city with purpose, heading straight for my uncle¡¯s estate in one of the most respectable districts, conveniently close to the university. As the carriage pulled into the grand estate and came to a stop, we stepped out, greeted immediately by my uncle. ¡°Alistair! Look how you¡¯ve grown!¡± His booming voice carried a warmth that was almost entirely swallowed by the sheer size of his peppered mustache. ¡°Uncle, it¡¯s good to see you as well.¡± I clasped his offered hand firmly, a rare moment of familial affection passing between us. Then, remembering my manners, I turned to introduce my companions. ¡°This is Lady Lavinia von Gray, fourth daughter of Duke Victor von Gray, fifth heir to the Gray Duchy¡ªand my fianc¨¦e.¡± I bowed, executing the precise level of formality required by etiquette. My uncle dipped into a bow, though it was somewhat hindered by his rather sizable belly. ¡°It is a great pleasure to meet you, my lady.¡± Lavinia returned a shallow curtsy, her expression polite but unreadable. ¡°The pleasure is mine. My father sends his gratitude for allowing us to stay under your roof.¡± Next, I gestured toward Eric. ¡°And this is Sir Eric Hearican Field, second son of Baron Danta Song Field, third heir to the Field Barony, and a mage knight in training.¡± Eric inclined his head in a deep bow, showing the proper deference. ¡°I thank you, Lord Bertram, for your hospitality. I hope our presence does not impose upon you.¡± My uncle chuckled, waving the concern away. ¡°Nonsense, young man! You¡¯re welcome here. And I must say, you¡¯re the spitting image of your father. How is he, by the way?¡± He gestured for Eric to rise, his smile widening with genuine interest. ¡°My father is doing well. He recently achieved the Sixth Circle of magic,¡± Eric said, a rare smile breaking through his usually composed expression. My uncle¡¯s eyes widened with genuine delight. ¡°That¡¯s brilliant news! Another Sixth Circle mage among us¡ªespecially after Anny left. That¡¯s no small feat.¡± He clapped Eric on the shoulder, his grin broad. Then, with a sweeping gesture, he motioned toward the house. ¡°But come, come¡ªno sense standing around out here in the cold. I¡¯ve got hot drinks waiting and far more comfortable seats inside.¡± As he led us in, the waiting servants moved swiftly to take our luggage, ensuring we entered unburdened.
Gine It¡¯s been a few days since I accepted the role of a teacher, and I am most definitely not ready. It¡¯s not that I lack knowledge of the subject¡ªMagical Biology is something I¡¯ve studied extensively¡ªbut I¡¯ve never actually taught anyone before. I have no idea what level of understanding my students will have, and that alone is daunting. Still, there was an unexpected silver lining when I gave my answer to Lord Bertram¡ªI received a down payment of half a month¡¯s salary upfront. That money was a lifesaver. It meant I could continue using the library, and, more importantly, that I and the kids wouldn¡¯t have to worry about food for a while. I can still picture the banknote clearly, the weight of it in my hands. Smiling at the memory, I turn another page in The Fundamentals of Biomancy, the fifth book I¡¯ve read so far. Though I¡¯ll be teaching Magical Biology, it seems the subject is practically treated as interchangeable with Biomancy. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. My eyes skim over an example in the book: "Let¡¯s start with an easy test. You must procure a live rabbit¡ªany will do, though we suggest a field rabbit, as it has the least chance of rejection after the procedure." A neat illustration of a rabbit is drawn below the text. "Next, we suggest using some form of restraint on the rabbit. Any type will work, though in higher-circle spells, you must be more careful in your selection." "Once restrained, cast Ivor¡¯s Chloroflesh, and you should see the rabbit grow a horn." Below, a new illustration depicts the same rabbit¡ªthis time with a single, curved horn sprouting from its forehead. "This is one of the most common humonculi that biomancers can create." As I read, I can¡¯t help but question¡ªwhy are rabbits the most suitable for this experiment? Is it simply because they¡¯re easy to find, or is there something unique about their biology that makes them more receptive to biomancy? Most of the books on the topic have been frustratingly unhelpful. They provide detailed how-to instructions but very little why. The more advanced texts touch on theory, but even then, they don¡¯t offer a definitive answer. Closing my eyes, I think back over everything I¡¯ve read so far. All five books emphasize practical techniques¡ªbasic biomancy spells, small tricks, minor adjustments. But one thing they all have in common is this: rabbits are particularly susceptible to biomancy. The advanced texts suggest possible explanations, but none seem certain. Either understanding the answer provides some kind of advantage... or they simply don¡¯t know. Reopening my eyes, I look at the rabbit in front of me. It¡¯s one of many in the library¡ªliving examples kept for certain subjects, like Magical Biology. "They must know at least part of the truth about you little guys," I murmur, activating Eyes of the Unburdened Truth. The physical world shifts as I peer into the ethereal. The rabbit¡¯s form remains the same, but now it is bathed in ghostly blue hues, its edges softened by the glow of its spirit. But the horn¡ªthat is different. Unlike the rest of its body, which is washed out in blue, the horn retains faint traces of other colors, a subtle contrast against the rest of its spectral form. Even more intriguing is the pulse. The rabbit¡¯s ethereal body throbs with a rhythm, a steady beat of energy¡ªbut it''s stronger than most other creatures I¡¯ve observed. Leaning in closer to its cage, I whisper, ¡°Should I tell people about your secret, little fella?¡± Talking to rabbits now? Or has your mind finally succumbed to the truth that the Empire is better than whatever tiny country you got exiled from?¡± A mocking voice dripped with amusement from behind me. "And yet, they¡¯re far better company¡ªespecially when the walking clever starts talking," I said dryly, turning to face the speaker. Lady Eleanor Fairchild. One of the biggest thorns in my side. ¡°Oh, so you do have a voice today. You must be thrilled¡ªdid your family finally decide to write back?¡± She let out a light giggle, as if her words were some grand joke. She looked every bit the perfect Auric noblewoman¡ªpainted lips, long black hair, dark eyes like the night, and olive skin complemented by a flawlessly tailored dress in the latest fashion. But beneath that refined exterior? A brash, rude, and insufferably arrogant woman. Now, I didn¡¯t agree with many of the Empire¡¯s customs, but I almost wished she followed the ones about proper behavior. She must have looked at those rules, laughed, and burned them for sport. "Lady Eleanor Fairchild," I drawled, leaning back in my chair. "I fear you must have suffered a head injury, as you seem to have forgotten how a proper lady conducts herself. Should I call for a healer?" She scoffed. ¡°Ha! The only injury here is your inability to show respect to your betters. And as for me not acting like a lady¡ªwho exactly could make me?¡± She had a point. A sixth-circle war mage wasn¡¯t someone you could simply reprimand, especially not one serving the Empire. I sighed. ¡°I mispronounced your name once while I was still learning the language. And I¡¯ll give you respect the moment you show me basic politeness. But let¡¯s be honest¡ªboth are as likely as us shaking hands with the Emperor.¡± She smirked. ¡°Well, then, I expect you to start bowing, because I already have.¡± With a flick of her wrist, she turned away, her dress trailing behind her like a queen dismissing a peasant. "But alas," she added over her shoulder, "I have real classes to teach. Some of us have work to do, after all. Unlike you, civilized savage." And with that, she was gone. I exhaled slowly, watching her retreat. "Real class," I muttered. If arrogance could be bottled and sold, she¡¯d have funded her own empire by now. Turning back to the rabbit, I studied its twitching nose. "You see that? Even you have better manners." Lady Eleanor Fairchild¡ªsixth-circle war mage, noblewoman, and professional pain in my ass. She had despised me from the moment I arrived. Why? Because I once mispronounced her name while struggling with the Empire¡¯s tongue. Still, I had no time for pointless feuds. I had a class to prepare for. Resting my chin on my hand, I stared at the rabbit¡¯s ethereal pulse. I had an answer¡ªone worth teaching. But I needed to study more, to understand why it worked the way it did. "Time to get back to reading," I muttered, pushing myself up from my chair. With that, I headed off in search of more books.