Chapter 5: Routine
The morning sun had already made its way up by the time Adam reached the pawnshop on Commercial Street. His small hands clutched a leather pouch containing three silver coins from Merlin's collection—carefully selected pieces from the 14th century that wouldn't draw too much attention.
In the short time he had spent wandering this world, Adam had learned that survival demanded caution and calculation.
The forty pounds he'd taken from the orphanage hadn't lasted long, and the old coin collection had been his only steady source of income. But every sale carried risk. Going to the same shop too often could raise suspicion, and selling coins that were too valuable might draw dangerous attention.
"What brings you here so early, lad?" The pawnbroker, a fat man with yellowed teeth, looked up from his ledger. "Selling or buying?"
Adam placed the three coins on the worn wooden counter nonchalantly. "Found these in my grandmother's attic. She said they might be worth something."
Lying came easily to him. The story was believable enough—a poor child discovering family heirlooms—but vague enough to avoid further questions.
The pawnbroker examined the coins through a magnifying glass and said "Medieval silver... good condition... I can offer you eight pounds for the lot."
Adam knew they were worth much more, but arguing would only draw attention. He nodded and pocketed the crumpled notes, already planning his next move. The money would last him two weeks if he was careful, longer if he supplemented it with his street performances.
After leaving the shop, Adam made his way to Hyde Park Corner, where he'd established a small following as a street magician. His "tricks" were actually minor applications of the levitation charm he'd mastered, but the crowds didn't need to know that. To them, he was just another talented child performer trying to earn pocket money.
"Step right up, everyone!" Adam shouted from on top of a wooden crate. "Come see tricks you won't believe!"
A small crowd gathered—office workers on their break, tourists with cameras, a few street vendors taking a respite from their own work. Adam began with simple tricks, making coins dance through the air and causing his hat to hover above his head. The audience applauded, and coins clinked into his collection hat.
But even as he performed, Adam's mind was elsewhere, cycling through the morning's real work.
He'd spent three hours in Merlin's library before dawn, copying passages from "Fundamental Principles of Alchemical Transmutation" into his growing collection of notebooks.
The text was dense, filled with warnings about precise measurements and timing that could mean the difference between success and catastrophe.
His first attempt at brewing a simple stamina restoration potion had been a disaster. Following the recipe exactly as written, he'd combined powdered moonstone with distilled water under the light of a waning gibbous moon. The result had been a bubbling mass that ate through his cauldron and left a smoking crater in the library floor. Only the protective properties of the black stone had prevented the reaction from spreading further.
The failure had taught him respect for precision, but it had also revealed gaps in his understanding. Merlin's notes mentioned things like "standard atmospheric pressure adjustments" and "lunar resonance calculations" that none of the basic texts explained.
After his performance ended and the crowd dispersed, Adam counted his earnings: four pounds and thirty-seven pence. Combined with the pawn shop money, he had enough to last until his next coin sale.
More importantly, he'd noticed several regular faces in the crowd—people who came specifically to watch his performances. Word was spreading about the talented young magician, which was both encouraging and worrying.
Attention was a double-edged sword. He needed visibility to earn money, but too much notice could lead to uncomfortable questions about his living situation, his family, his unusual coins, or his uncanny ability to make objects truly defy gravity.
Adam made his way back to his current shelter—an abandoned building nearby where he'd been squatting for the past three weeks. The basement was dry, relatively warm, and most importantly, unoccupied by other homeless individuals.
As evening approached, Adam activated Merlin's ring and transported himself to the library. The familiar sensation of reality tearing and reforming around him had become routine, though he still felt a moment of nausea with each transition.
The library's impossible geometry no longer intimidated him as it once had. After months of exploring, he had mapped parts of it, marked safe areas, and cataloged shelves as best he could.
Adam had developed a methodic approach to his studies. Each session began with reviewing his previous notes, ensuring he fully understood concepts before moving to new material. He'd learned to recognize warning signs in Merlin's handwriting—certain symbols and margin notes that indicated particularly dangerous or advanced techniques.
Tonight, he focused on "Elementary Principles of Protective Enchantment," a subject that had become increasingly relevant as his street performances grew more elaborate.
The text described methods for creating wards against detection, techniques for masking magical auras, and principles for establishing safe spaces where magical practice wouldn't attract unwanted attention.
The math involved was complex—geometric formulas linking intent, gestures, and the environment. Adam copied each equation carefully, checking them against Merlin's experimental logs. He knew understanding the theory was vital; blindly memorizing spells without grasping their principles could end in disaster.
As he worked, Adam reflected on how much his situation had changed since leaving the orphanage. Six months ago, he'd been a frightened child fleeing into an unknown world with nothing but stolen clothes and pocket change. Now, he was developing genuine expertise in subjects that most humans couldn't even comprehend.
The transformation hadn't been without cost. His childhood was effectively over—he spent his days calculating risks, managing resources, and studying concepts that would challenge graduate students.
He had no friends, no family, no normal social connections. His only companion was the accumulated knowledge of a wizard who had died centuries ago, preserved in parchments.
But Adam found he didn't miss the conventional childhood he'd never really experienced. The orphanage had offered safety but no purpose, community but no understanding. Here, surrounded by impossible architecture and forbidden knowledge, he felt he was becoming something more than human limitations would normally allow.
His immediate concern was still money. The coin collection was extensive but limited, and he couldn't rely on street performances indefinitely. Winter was approaching, which would reduce his outdoor earnings and increase his need for reliable shelter. He needed to establish more stable income sources while maintaining the freedom to pursue his magical education.
More troubling was how easily he was picking up the darker side of magic. The Curse Worm ability felt increasingly natural to use, and he'd begun experimenting with more aggressive applications.
Adam closed his notebook, ready to step back into the ordinary world. Tomorrow would bring the same routine—street performances by day and study in the library by night.
As Adam prepared to use the ring and return to London, he felt a flicker of pride. He was no longer the desperate boy who had escaped the orphanage six months ago. Now he was a student of powers few mortals could grasp.
The road ahead was still uncertain, but he faced it with growing confidence. Whatever came next, he would meet it with hard-earned knowledge and the instincts of a survivor.
Note : The following chapters (including this one) aren't part of the original book. I've added a short mini-arc to create a smoother flow.