Davin woke before Kassis rose.
He had barely slept. The mattress had something to do with it, with the softness of a plank polished by hatred, but that was not the real problem. The cold had not kept him awake either; his body could handle it.
No.
The problem was ignorance.
It had been scraping at the inside of his skull since the previous day. The Academy's rules, sectors, insignias, stars, quests, contracts, books, the words carved into the walls — everything passed through signs he could not read. Aethelgard overflowed with information, and he was walking through it with open eyes in a dead language.
I can sense mana, survive an ambush, enter a thousand-year-old Academy… but I can't read a sign. Excellent start.
He rose without making a sound.
The meditation crystal embedded in the ceiling still diffused its milky glow, faint and steady. The room remained too narrow to let him forget he was sleeping in an improved cell, but at least it did not smell of mud, blood, or poor decisions.
He quickly stopped by the communal washroom at the end of the corridor. The place was cold, clean, and functional: stone basins, lukewarm water flowing from runic pipes, dull mirrors fixed to the walls. Two other recruits were already there, their eyes swollen with sleep, too nervous to speak. Davin washed his face, adjusted his gray clothes, then left.
Aethelgard's corridors looked different before dawn.
The day before, the Academy had seemed crushing, saturated with footsteps, voices, mana, and power plays. At this hour, it breathed more slowly. The great arteries were almost empty, bathed in warm, muted light from floating spheres. In places, enchanted lines ran along the walls, mingling lavender reflections with the glow.
On some black panels, luminous points moved slowly like stars lost inside fragments of night. Farther away, a wall fountain poured silver water that never reached the floor; it evaporated halfway down into a fine mist, immediately absorbed by the runes in the stone.
A few students were already moving through the halls, or perhaps they had never stopped. A boy in red crossed a corridor carrying a sword wrapped in bandages. A girl in off-white walked with a small feathered lizard sleeping against her shoulder. Two students in gray spoke in low voices near a window, their silhouettes cut against the black sky.
No one was shouting. No one was fighting. Not yet.
The calm was unexpected. Davin slowed despite himself.
Aethelgard at night was no less dangerous.
But it was almost beautiful.
There it is. Even traps have better decoration when the powerful are funding them.
The thought helped settle the rush in his chest. He continued.
After a few minutes, he reached the library.
Even from the outside, the building demanded respect. Its heavy bronze doors stood open, guarded not by soldiers, but by two stone statues three meters tall, motionless, their faces smooth. Davin passed between them without taking his eyes off them completely.
Inside, the air smelled of old leather, dry parchment, warm dust, and something subtler — a metallic, almost storm-like scent that had to come from the enchanted books.
The main hall was immense. Shelves rose across several levels, connected by spiral staircases and suspended walkways. Some sections were sealed behind fine grilles covered in runes, while others remained accessible, lit by small floating spheres that slowly followed the movements of readers.
At this hour, the library was almost empty.
A few students worked in silence at long tables. One sleeping student had his cheek flattened against an open book. Beside him, an enchanted quill kept writing, undisturbed, as if it had decided to pass his studies for him.
Davin headed toward the central counter.
Behind it, a woman was reading quietly.
She wore sober dark-gray clothing, with no visible sector color, but Aethelgard's castle was embroidered on the left side of her chest. A single silver star hovered above it. Her black hair was tied into a strict bun, pierced by an ivory pin. Thin glasses rested low on her nose, and her expression suggested she had already survived far too many students to be impressed by a new face.
Davin stopped in front of her.
"Good evening."
The librarian did not answer.
She turned a page.
Davin waited a second, then another.
Nothing.
Very well. First opponent of the day: a woman capable of ignoring a human being with something approaching martial mastery.
He tried again, more directly.
"I just arrived. I'd like to know how the library works. Am I allowed to read here? Borrow books?"
"Reading on-site is permitted for one hour. Ground floor only."
Her voice was calm, flat, perfectly trained to discourage further questions. She turned another page.
"You do not have the necessary qualification to access the upper levels or the lower archives."
Davin recorded the information. Upper levels, lower archives, restrictions — everything suggested that knowledge here was sorted like the rest of the world, by layers, by price, and by right of access.
"And borrowing?"
"Two gold coins for an ordinary book. Five to purchase one."
She paused, more to breathe than out of generosity.
"Ten gold coins to consult a magical text outside the reading room. Twenty-five to purchase one. When purchase is authorized. Most are not."
Davin felt his eyelids freeze.
All that? Is it because I'm an Adept, or is this simply the standard price for breathing too close to knowledge?
He still had gold, but not enough to be comfortable. Certainly not enough to waste.
Damn it. I don't even know if I have enough to eat properly over time, and they price books like real estate.
His face showed nothing.
"I understand."
He let a brief silence pass.
"I'm looking for books to learn how to read the common language. Also introductory texts on low-level magic and sword techniques suited to curved blades."
This time, the librarian raised her eyes slightly. Not in surprise. In evaluation.
"Common language?"
"Yes."
"You reached this place without knowing how to read?"
"Apparently."
She stared at him for another second. Then a small breath, almost a laugh, escaped through her nose.
"At least you have the merit of not lying."
She slid a hand beneath the counter and pulled out a small white rectangular card. The material resembled ivory, but a thin gray rune pulsed at its center.
She placed it in front of him.
"Keep this card on you. It will turn red when your hour is over. When it heats up, you leave. Not five minutes later. Not after finishing your page. Immediately."
"Understood."
"Literacy books are in the first shelves to the right. Basic sword techniques are opposite. Magical texts accessible to recruits are at the back of this section, behind the low tables. Do not touch books whose covers are sealed with a red rune."
"Why?"
She turned a page in her book.
"Because you probably value your fingers."
Davin slowly nodded.
"That is a solid reason. Thank you."
The librarian had already stopped responding.
He took the card and headed toward the first shelves on the right.
The ordinary books were easy to distinguish: brown leather bindings, titles engraved in simple characters, corners sometimes reinforced with worn metal. Some volumes had clearly seen heavy use, with tired edges, pages thickened by years, and notes written in pencil or pale ink along the margins.
Davin scanned the spines without understanding the words.
Then he found what he needed.
A smaller, thicker book with a pale cover and simple drawings on the first visible page: an animal, a cup, a hand, a house.
He opened it.
The first pages contained large isolated letters, each paired with an illustration. Clean lines, almost childish. One letter, one sound, one image, then simple combinations, syllables, and short words.
A schoolbook.
A book for children.
Davin remained still for a second.
Here I am, reincarnated in a magical world, an Initial Adept with an abnormal mana gate… and my first academic treasure is the local equivalent of "A is for apple."
He inhaled.
Humiliating. Perfectly necessary.
He sat at a table, opened the book flat, and activated the A.I. with a thought.
A.I., scan every accessible page. Absolute priority: letters, sounds, grammatical structure, visual associations, repetitions. Build a basic model of the common written language.
[BEEP. System Message / Analysis in progress…] > VISUAL ARCHIVING MODE ACTIVATED.Priority: written common language.Method: symbol recognition, contextual comparison, probable phonetic extraction.Limit: exact pronunciation undetermined without complete audio reference.]
Davin began turning the pages slowly, or at least slowly enough to seem credible. He had no desire for a curious student to notice that he could memorize a page in a fraction of a second. So he lingered over each double page for a few moments, sometimes narrowing his eyes, sometimes tracing a line with his finger like a diligent apprentice.
The actual scan took three minutes.
He spent ten, out of caution, and also because he was beginning to understand just how humiliating the problem truly was.
The first pages presented the alphabet. The following ones showed simple structures: subject, action, object. Example sentences. Basic conjugations. Plural rules. Little absurd dialogues between drawn characters with frozen smiles.
One of them showed a child offering an apple to his mother.
Davin stared at the image half a second too long.
Then turned the page.
No. Not now.
Once he had enough material, he closed the book and returned it exactly where he had found it.
Then he moved on to sword techniques.
The contrast was immediate. The weapon manuals were larger, heavier, bound in dark leather marked by fingerprints, sweat, and sometimes small brown stains that were probably not ink. Their covers bore engraved illustrations: figures in stance, cutting lines, guard angles.
Davin searched for books related to curved blades. The illustrations helped.
He took two.
The first showed a weapon close to his saber: a slightly curved blade, a simple guard, a low stance. The second seemed to deal with fundamental movement: lateral dodges, pivots, hip angles, engagement distance.
He opened them one after the other.
The diagrams were valuable. Even without reading, he could understand part of the logic: foot placement, shoulder orientation, blade trajectory, body weight. The A.I. recorded everything.
Then he moved to the magical texts accessible to recruits.
Those did not have the tired modesty of ordinary books or the practical roughness of weapon manuals. Even the simplest seemed intent on reminding him that they belonged to a superior category. Their leather covers were smoother, their corners cleaner, their titles more refined. Some volumes bore engraved lines that vibrated faintly under the floating light.
Davin chose one at random among the unsealed books.
Inside, the symbols had almost nothing in common with the common language.
Fine strokes, dots, miniature spirals, interlocked angles. Some characters seemed to shift when he tilted the page, not enough to truly move, but enough to irritate the eye.
I understand nothing. With the other books, some characters resembled each other. Here, almost none do. Another language? A magical alphabet? Technical notation?
He launched the scan.
A.I., high priority. Archive every character. Compare with the common language. Identify repetitions and structure.
[BEEP. System Message / Analysis in progress…]Unknown script detected.Similarity with common language: low.Hypothesis: specialized graphic system / magical notation / technical language.Insufficient data for translation.]
Of course. Even letters decided to have a hierarchy.
He continued leafing through with care.
Fifteen minutes passed that way. He was reading without reading, his eyes moving over diagrams of circles, arrows, repeated symbols surrounding simplified human figures. On some pages, lines seemed to indicate flows moving between the chest, arms, and hands.
It was interesting.
Incomprehensible.
Frustrating.
He glanced at the white card. It had not yet changed color, but time was slipping away. He had barely twenty minutes left.
Too little time. To hell with elegance. Maximize the scan.
He grabbed three more books: one red, bound in thick leather reinforced with black plates; one dark gray, thinner, almost cold beneath his fingers; and one blue, whose cover seemed slightly damp even though it was perfectly dry.
He placed them on a table and began flipping through them quickly.
Too quickly to seem normal.
This time, several students looked up. A girl in lavender violet frowned. A boy in green let out a small laugh. Another murmured something to his neighbor.
Davin paid them no attention.
The pages flowed past with their cargo of symbols, diagrams, circles, postures, tables, and annotations. The A.I. archived.
[BEEP. Accelerated archiving in progress…]Warning: conceptual understanding limited by lack of linguistic reference.Recommendation: acquire a manual of magical grammar.]
Davin went still.
Magical grammar.
Of course.
He closed the blue book with a dry snap.
He had only five minutes left.
He picked up the card, stood, and walked quickly toward the counter. Almost too quickly.
The librarian looked up before he even spoke.
"Already lost?"
"I noticed a difference between the characters in ordinary books and those in magical texts. Where are the books on magical grammar?"
This time, a genuine little smile appeared on the librarian's lips. There was nothing warm or cruel about it; only the discreet amusement of someone who had just seen a recruit hit the right wall at the right time.
"Ah. So you at least looked at the pages instead of stroking the covers. That is already more than some."
She pointed toward the back of the magical section with her closed book.
"Beginning of the magical section, low shelf on the left. Small chestnut-colored volumes. There are several, but they mostly say the same thing. Introduction to arcanographic characters, grammar of circles, syntax of flows. Basics."
She glanced at the card in his hand.
"I doubt you will be able to read them peacefully in time."
Her smile deepened slightly.
"But you can always stare at them very intensely. Some new students do that. It does not help, but it is touching."
Davin remained impassive.
"Thank you."
He left immediately.
Behind him, he thought he heard a very faint laugh.
He headed straight for the indicated shelf, spotted the small chestnut-colored volumes, and pulled one out at random.
The cover was simple, almost disappointing compared to the previous magical books. But the moment he opened it, he knew he had found what he needed.
The first pages presented arcanographic characters one by one: their basic form, their variations depending on inclination, their use in simple circles. Then came examples: a character of direction, a character of concentration, a character of dissipation. Not enough to truly understand, but enough to give the A.I. a skeleton.
Finally. The children's manual for sorcerers.
He flipped through quickly, but not carelessly. One page, then another, then ten, then twenty. The A.I. absorbed every symbol.
[BEEP. Priority archiving in progress…]Primary arcanographic reference acquired.Comparison with previously scanned magical texts: possible after processing.]
He took a second chestnut-colored volume. Same structure, a few different examples, variants, tables. Perfect.
He flipped through that one as well.
His fingers moved fast, and the card in his pocket grew warm.
Not burning yet.
He wanted to take a third book.
This time, the card heated all at once, a dry heat against his thigh.
He pulled it out.
The white had turned deep red.
Time was up.
Davin closed the volume and carefully returned it to its place, then went back to the counter.
The librarian extended her hand without looking up.
He placed the red card in her palm.
"Good evening," he said.
"Morning," she corrected.
Davin glanced toward the library's high windows. In the distance, the edge of the sky was beginning to pale.
Kassis was not far now.
"Good morning, then."
She turned a page.
"Come back when you know how to read. It will be more profitable."
Davin nodded and turned away.
He had almost reached the doors when the librarian's voice rose behind him.
"By the way."
He stopped.
"Yes?"
She was already no longer looking at him. Her eyes had returned to her book, one finger resting between two lines.
"Most illiterate students begin with the pictures. You mostly looked at the pages as if you were searching for structures."
A very brief silence passed.
Davin felt his mind cool by a notch.
She noticed.
He turned his head slightly, face neutral.
"I have always liked understanding how things are built. Even when I do not understand them yet."
The librarian remained still for a second.
Then a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
"Pretty answer. I will pretend to believe it."
She finally turned her page.
"Leave before the card starts screaming."
Davin did not answer.
He left the library without speeding up.
Once in the corridor, he could still feel the weight of her gaze between his shoulder blades.
Noted.
The cool air of the corridors struck his face. The silence of the night was beginning to crack. Farther away, doors opened, footsteps echoed, and Aethelgard woke in successive layers.
The visit had been short, intense, almost ridiculous in some ways.
But enough.
He called the interface with a thought.
A.I., report.
[BEEP. System Message / Data processing in progress…]
[Written common language: primary reference acquired.Estimated time before functional comprehension of the basics: 10 minutes.]
[Sword techniques scanned: partial biomechanical references acquired.Estimated time before initial simulation: 30 minutes.]
[Arcanographic grammar and magical texts: fragmentary but exploitable data.Estimated time before elementary correspondences: 2 hours.]
Davin stopped in the middle of the corridor.
A discreet smile tugged at his lips. Nothing wide, nothing warm; only the pure satisfaction of a man who had just stolen his first handful of knowledge from a fortress built to sell it at a very high price.
A very good day is coming.