The weeks settled into a rhythm that left Theo with very little space to breathe.
Morning lessons. Midday chores. Evening meals measured carefully enough that even hunger learned to quiet itself.
Baking became rare.
Not because Hollis refused him, but because flour itself had become something fragile. Nothing was left over anymore. Dough was mixed precisely for the day's needs, shaped and baked without excess. There were no scraps for experimentation, no spare handfuls for curiosity.
Waste was no longer tolerated.
Theo understood why.
He simply did not like it.
Each time he watched Hollis knead, he felt the familiar pull in his chest—an awareness of something he could almost grasp but not fully reach. The Codex remained hidden beneath a loose floorboard in his room. He had begun storing it there after realizing that keeping it beside his bed invited questions he was not prepared to answer.
He had not opened it in days.
Not because he lacked the desire.
Because he lacked the means.
Magic, if that was what it truly was, could not function without ingredients.
And ingredients cost money.
Lessons with Master Iven deepened as the weather cooled.
Arithmetic shifted toward trade calculations. History toward economic shifts between minor houses.
Logistics toward supply chains and tariff structures. What once felt academic now felt painfully immediate.
"Why do lesser houses collapse?" Master Iven asked one afternoon.
Theo did not answer immediately.
He had walked past the east wing that morning and noticed another door sealed shut. The hinges had been removed entirely.
"Because they lose military support," Theo said first, repeating what the texts often claimed.
Master Iven waited.
Theo frowned slightly.
"That's not the root," he corrected himself. "They lose income first."
"And why does income vanish?"
"Because they stop producing something others need."
The room fell quiet.
Master Iven did not praise him, but he did not move on either.
Theo continued, thoughts assembling themselves more clearly as he spoke.
"If a house offers nothing unique, stronger houses absorb its trade routes. Merchants stop visiting. Laborers leave for better wages. Decline becomes… efficient."
The word felt cold.
"Efficient," Master Iven repeated.
Theo's gaze drifted toward the tall window.
House Oaten had no soldiers of renown. No mages whose names traveled across regions. No mines. No rare timber. No enchanted relics displayed in grand halls.
They had once produced grain in abundance.
But the surrounding territories had modernized irrigation. Larger estates under wealthier banners had mechanized mills powered by water-channel spellcraft. Distribution networks had expanded.
House Oaten had remained the same.
The world had not.
That realization followed Theo long after lessons ended.
He walked the perimeter of the estate grounds that evening instead of going directly to the kitchen. The fields that had once supported rotating grain crops now lay partially unused. Some sections had been sold. Others simply could not be maintained with the current labor force.
He crouched near the soil and pressed his fingers into it.
Still fertile.
His mind began assembling pieces the way it did when he studied ratios.
Flour cost money because grain cost money.
Grain cost money because land was idle.
Land was idle because labor was expensive.
Labor was expensive because there was no steady income.
A closed loop.
Theo stood slowly.
If House Oaten could not compete in volume, then it would have to compete in value.
That thought did not come from pride.
It came from arithmetic.
His opportunities to bake remained scarce.
On the rare evenings when Hollis miscalculated slightly and a palm-sized portion of dough remained, Theo worked with focused intensity. He paid attention to hydration. To kneading pressure. To the temperature of the air. He adjusted subtly, testing memory against sensation.
Each small success only deepened the frustration.
He could improve.
He simply lacked materials.
One night, after a particularly careful dinner preparation left nothing unused, Theo remained in the kitchen longer than usual.
Hollis noticed.
"You're thinking out loud, pretty sure the maids can hear you down the hall," the old cook muttered without looking up.
Theo hesitated, "Hollis… how much does flour cost?"
The question hung heavier than expected.
Hollis finally turned, studying him, "Not much for guessing games..huh just spitting out the question like that."
Hollis wiped his hands slowly, "Prices fluctuate, transport costs, harvest yields, taxes" then he paused, "Why?"
Theo chose honesty, "Better to know If I wanted to buy some myself."
Silence.
"With what coin?" Hollis asked, not unkindly.
Theo did not answer.
Because that was the real problem.
Theo decided to leave after that for his room, after not getting an answer out of Hollis.
That night, he opened the Codex again.
The pages felt warmer than he remembered.
Or perhaps that was his imagination.
Symbols shifted faintly when his fingers brushed the parchment, responding not to touch alone but to intent. He did not understand the mechanism, only the result.
A thought pressed at the edge of his awareness.
Enhancement did not create something from nothing.
It refined what already existed.
Which meant if he wanted to use it properly, he needed raw material.
And raw material required coin.
Theo lay back against the wooden floor, staring at the ceiling.
House Oaten did not need charity.
It needed revenue.
Sustainable and scalable.
He thought of the town market. Of traveling merchants. Of inexpensive goods with high perceived value. Of foods that required minimal base ingredients but could command higher prices through skill.
His lessons aligned with his instincts.
If flour was scarce, then selling ordinary bread would fail.
But specialty items…
He rolled onto his side, mind racing quietly.
Spiced rolls required small quantities.
Filled pastries could be priced higher.
Preserved goods traveled well.
He sat up slowly.
If he could create something the town did not already have… something different, something better… then merchants would return.
Theo closed the Codex carefully.
He did not yet know how he would acquire his first supply of flour independently.
But he knew something with certainty now.
He would not wait for House Oaten to collapse slowly under arithmetic it refused to confront.
If swords and spellcraft defined power in this world, then culinary magic would have to become something more than sustenance.
It would have to become leverage and Theo intended to learn exactly how.