“There are three fundamental kinds of magic: Classical Sorcery, the manipulation of eldritch forces to alter and bend the world around you, the Old Magick, the magic of the land and elements, used by and and the like, and Miracles, the incredibly rare and valuable art of bothering the Archons with nonstop spam until they begrudgingly give in and alter the very fabric of reality for you, you bunch of whining coots.”

Oreanen Vainen, the Emerald Sage; excerpt from a lecture on the Three Branches of Magic, given at the Francis Theocrian College at Narovia. This excerpt is from directly before Vainen was forcibly expelled from the premises

Sharron exited her cottage, having washed and otherwise set her appearance in order for the first time in days. It had been two weeks since Marvin’s death, two weeks since she had given control of the town to Bim and his team.

Her shoulders were squared, her gaze bright, though harder then before. She smiled and greeted passing residents, who knew better than to offer condolences. It was good to smile again; it wasn’t the soft, easy, constant smile of old, but more like a kind of crustacean unfolding from a shell each time. Still, she thought she would grow used to a new smile, a new Sharron. She still grieved, but she was stronger. She would endure, and she would help her town thrive.

She found Bim in the midst of a crowded square, directing efforts to put up a fence around the perimeter of the town where natural defenses lacked. She cleared her throat, and he spun around, then grinned upon seeing her and clasped his hands with joy. “It’s good to see you out and about, ma’am.”

Zara, for her part, nodded respectfully.

Sharron smiled at him, a hint of her previous self’s simple warmth sneaking in. “Thank you, Bim, for being so kind, and for overseeing the town during my leave of absence. As of today, I’ll be resuming my previous activities and responsibilities as of Drumlin>.” She paused, checked her own confidence in her decision, and found it to be substantial. “In addition, I’m appointing you Deputy Mayor, as you’ve shown such skill and promise in the time I’ve been away.”

🠊 Level 4!

All Talents Retained

Talent Advanced!

🠊

“No, thank you for trusting me.” Bim said, blushing. “I never expected such an honor, and I swear I’ll work my hardest to fulfill my responsibilities.”

🟌

Bim and Forana were in the medicine hall, tinkering with various formulas for the newest potential cure elixir, Solution B-4, when he had a breakthrough. “Forana!” He said, eyes going wide. “We’re using the , your old mentor’s, formulas!”

She looked at him like he was an idiot, which, in fairness, he had just said something incredibly obvious. “Yeah? We’ve known that for weeks. What’d you figure out that makes that information so revelatory?”

“So-- as a Class has spread across the world, mutating into many Variants and specializations. But where did it start?”

“Gontad. And well…”

“Here. In the Steep Hills region. Amani, the , must have been of a very old school of thought. And what do channel for their alchemy?”

“The land. This is basic infor…” Her eyes widened, before she slapped herself. “Why didn’t I think of that?!”

“‘To channel the Old Magick, first channel the Land.’ It’s at the top of her notes. The reason our cure isn’t sticking-- why it fades each time-- and why we've reached an upper limit on how long it lasts. Pure research, experimentation, and logical thinking doesn’t give a complete solution with this kind of arcanum. We’ve been improperly channeling the power of the local ecosystem into the potions, causing an incomplete product to be created again and again.”

“But I’m not a full yet, just a . Who would know how to properly channel the land?”

“Who else? A .”