"Surely, you already know a bit about this?" Richard asked calmly, his gaze fixed on his father.
Baron Leo's brow furrowed deeply. He leaned forward, voice low, tinged with frustration. "It seems… you never gave up trying, never stopped attempting to understand the tales of the wizards, is that it?"
"Isn't that an interesting thing to study?" Richard said with a small smile.
"Actually, it would have been far better if you had pursued other endeavors," the Baron replied earnestly. "You are far smarter than I am, far smarter than your late mother, far smarter than the tutors I could ever find for you, far smarter than anyone I've known in my life. If you had focused on practical matters instead of chasing after such ethereal, elusive things as wizards, I believe you could have achieved a far higher status than I ever did."
Richard shrugged lightly, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "I see it quite differently. Practical pursuits are feasible, yes, and I am confident I could perform them far better than anyone imagines. But what meaning is there in that?
"I could teach people to make explosives, smoothbore cannons, repeating firearms. I could lead an army to conquer the world. Or I could teach the production of potent spirits, manufacture glass, create intricate mirrors, amass wealth beyond measure. But… what would be the point?
"I already know the outcome of such endeavors. Even a lifetime spent achieving these things would only yield a mundane, unchanging conclusion. Nothing compared to the thrills I've experienced reading a few fantasies or playing imaginary games years ago.
"Compared to that, wizards and other seemingly intangible phenomena spark curiosity. Long ago, I dismissed wizards as nonsense, laughed at them. But then I witnessed impossible things—someone opens their eyes in an entirely unfamiliar place, reborn as a completely different infant. Perhaps wizards, or things even more elusive, do exist. Creatures like the Firebear prove this.
"Thus, to study them, understand them, and harness them—this is truly engaging. I would gladly dedicate a lifetime to it."
Richard's words hung in the hall, heavy with conviction. Baron Leo stood silent, trying to absorb the implications. Much of what Richard said seemed abstract, even confusing, but the Baron had grown accustomed to his son's peculiarities.
After a long pause, Baron Leo spoke, voice quieter, tinged with reluctant amusement. "Since I cannot bend you to my will, I will stop trying. In truth… my greatest regret is that I gave you that book on your tenth birthday. If I had not… we would not be entangled in so many complications now."
Richard's lips curved into a small, satisfied smile. "On the contrary, I consider that your best decision. Though the book was blank, devoid of content, and I spent five years studying it without tangible results, luck may favor me tonight. Perhaps I will finally make a breakthrough.
"Now then, Baron, it is late. I have work to do. Good night." Without another word, Richard turned and left the hall, disappearing into the shadows of the side keep.
Baron Leo remained in the grand hall for some time, shaking his head ever so slightly. With a deep breath, he turned and ascended the staircase to his chambers.
Night fell heavily over the castle, moonlight weakly illuminating the towering silhouette of the Baron's keep. The main fortress and its flanking side keeps rose like three swords thrust into the dark sky, shadows stretching across the fields.
Richard climbed the stairs to the side keep, entering the laboratory with purposeful steps. The long night awaited him, a perfect companion for the experiments he had interrupted earlier.
He arranged his thoughts, steadying himself. Carefully, he assembled the distillation apparatus, adjusting each joint and seal. The fire beneath the flask roared to life, brightening the room with flickering shadows.
The crimson fat extracted from the Firebear rested in a small ceramic pot, ready for refinement. Distillation would separate the mixture into components by boiling point. Richard began with low heat to evaporate the water content at around one hundred degrees Celsius. Once completed, he increased the flame, isolating the heavier animal oils at approximately four hundred degrees Celsius.
Hours passed. By the end, only a shallow layer of dark red liquid remained in the flask, its color reminiscent of blood—but Richard knew it was not. True blood would have coagulated by now. The consistency was viscous yet fluid, a deep, gleaming red that seemed to pulse with hidden energy. He dared to hope: this was it. The substance he had sought for years—magic material.
Magic.
His heart raced as he carefully extracted the liquid, sealing it within a bamboo vial. The scent was faintly metallic, yet tinged with warmth, almost alive. Carefully, he placed the vial aside and turned toward the shadowed corner of the laboratory.
There, beneath a stack of old equipment, lay a heavy black iron chest. Richard opened it, retrieving a ponderous book from the bottom. The tome was massive—about thirty centimeters square, four or five centimeters thick, weighing at least five kilograms. Its cover was a deep, almost sinister red, while the pages were a muted yellow, smooth and glossy, more like treated leather than paper.
He leafed through the book—completely blank. There were no inscriptions or diagrams, save for a single line of faint text on the cover: "When I drink the power of magic, you shall obtain all the knowledge I have recorded."
No title, no author—an enigmatic artifact. Richard had received it from Baron Leo on his tenth birthday. Rumor had it that the book once belonged to a dark wizard, though no proof existed.
Richard examined it closely. The book was impervious to fire and water. It radiated a strange, potent energy. Animals exposed to it became wildly agitated. Even the fiercest hunting dogs howled in terror near it, their cries escalating into frenzied panic. If restrained, the dogs' fear intensified until their bodies convulsed violently, ultimately dying without a single wound.
Upon dissection, their internal organs were perfectly healthy; only the brain had a peculiar gray layer. Death came from psychic assault, not physical harm.
This realization had long halted his studies. Due to limited resources and the Baron's restrictions, Richard had locked the book away. Yet he never abandoned hope, seeking magical creatures from which to extract material that might unlock the book's secrets.
He had a theory: the book's pages were coated with a special invisible substance, activated only by "mana"—the magical energy of life. When exposed to sufficient magical material, the hidden text would reveal itself.
Tonight, the moment of truth had arrived.
Richard inhaled deeply, letting the breath fill his lungs. Exhaling, he squared his shoulders, placing the book carefully on the laboratory table. From the bamboo vial, he retrieved the glowing crimson liquid.
On the cover, just beneath the faint inscription, a narrow crack ran horizontally, resembling a sinister grin. Richard tilted the vial, letting the liquid drip carefully into the fissure. Tiny droplets slid across the surface, glimmering in the dim lamplight.
A soft hiss accompanied the first contact, as though the book itself had recognized the substance. The pages began to shimmer faintly, the dull yellow surface slowly darkening, faint symbols tracing across them like ancient runes awakening from a deep slumber.
Richard's pulse quickened. The air grew thick with energy, warm and tingling against his skin. A single drop fell, then another, until the liquid coated the crack, filling the fissure completely.
Suddenly, the book seemed to inhale. A ripple ran through its pages, and an almost imperceptible vibration hummed through the table. The faint symbols intensified, glowing a soft, pulsating red. Magic, pure and potent, was finally emanating from the book itself.
Richard leaned closer, eyes wide with anticipation. His long years of research, failed experiments, and patient observation were finally converging into this single, fragile moment. Any misstep could ruin the delicate balance. He controlled his breathing, letting the crimson liquid do its work, observing carefully as the blank pages began to respond…