Chapter 1
Late at night.
A knock echoed through the quiet study.
"My lord. It's Wilson."
"Come in."
The gaze of the young man seated at the desk remained fixed on a thick book.
The door soon opened, revealing Wilson clad in butler's attire.
"I apologize for interrupting your studies."
"What is it?"
"A guest has arrived."
"A guest?"
The words felt foreign to Ian Oracle, who lived in near-seclusion.
'Who could possibly visit me?'
Though blessed with a genius intellect, no names surfaced in Ian's mind.
It had been ten years since his parents' disappearance.
Visitors had dwindled steadily since then.
The Oracle family name, once renowned for theoretical magic, had gradually faded from public memory.
That's how long it had been.
By the time the belated formalities surrounding his parents' disappearance concluded and he reluctantly inherited the title, no one visited anymore.
'And now a guest arrives?'
Ian closed his book and stood.
Wilson, who had served him for years, answered the unspoken question.
"It was someone unfamiliar. Their attire suggests they're a mage."
"A mage?"
"Yes. They carried a staff as well."
"Could they be seeking my father?"
There had been such cases before - acquaintances from distant lands unaware of his parents' fate. Ian suspected another such occurrence.
"No. The guest specifically requested an audience with you, my lord."
"Where are they now?"
"I've seated them in the parlor."
Ian left his study. The Oracle estate was an unassuming small mansion, allowing quick passage to the parlor.
The door stood ajar, revealing a man in weathered robes sipping tea.
'I don't recognize him.'
Ian pushed the door open fully and entered.
"I was told you asked for me?"
"Ah, Baron Ian!"
The man appeared ageless. His crude staff and worn boots marked him as an ordinary mage to casual observation.
Yet Ian welcomed him with composed courtesy. "Have we met before?"
"No. This is our first encounter."
"Might I inquire about your purpose? Visitors are uncommon here."
"I heard rumors of a skilled mage living in seclusion."
"You must be seeking my father then."
"Baron Lefebvre? No. I'm aware of his... circumstances. You have my condolences."
"Your restraint in avoiding pity is appreciated."
"Stay strong."
The visitor's knowledge confirmed he'd come specifically for Ian.
"May I ask your name?"
"Mist."
The single word hung in the air. Ian sensed the man's deliberate anonymity.
His eyes scanned for clues.
"From the forest, I presume?"
"Sharp eyes! Indeed, I've been camping in the woods. How did you know?"
"Traces of dried mud, grass stains on your robe, and..." Ian pointed, "that crow feather lodged there."
Mist examined the feather clinging to his sleeve. "When did this get here?"
"The Elwyn Woods? Known for their crows."
"Hah! Precisely! Marvelous deduction."
The ice broken, Mist grew animated.
"I'm but a wandering mage. Camped in Elwyn before coming here. No great skill to boast of, I'm afraid."
"I see."
Mist produced an ancient tome from his robes, placing it on the table.
"Would you examine this book? It's not cursed, I assure you."
The small but thick volume bore faded gilding, its former splendor dimmed by age.
"What kind of book?"
"A spellbook I found dungeon delving. I've tried dating it, but..."
"Experts could determine its age."
"Ah, but this requires magical expertise. My theoretical knowledge is... lacking."
Ian placed his hand on the cover, releasing mana.
'No malignant energy.'
Satisfied, he opened the text. No publication details - only content clues remained.
His luminous eyes darted across pages filled with archaic terminology.
"Written approximately 500 years ago during the Saint Helena era."
"Five centuries? Truly?"
Mist brightened as Ian nodded.
"Preservation magic maintained it. Few handlers helped its condition."
"Remarkable! Though my estimate isn't exact."
"More than sufficient! Could you elaborate?"
Ian pointed at a passage. "This fire wall spell was classified as 6th-circle then, now 5th. Later Saint Helena texts list it as 7th. This places it in the early period."
He indicated another section. "Elemental magic was still categorized under circle magic here - another era hallmark."
"Fascinating!"
Mist's eyes gleamed. Ian noted his lack of formal training yet evident passion.
"To analyze this so swiftly! Why haven't you joined the Royal Academy?"
The abrupt question gave Ian pause.
"Forgive my bluntness," Mist added quickly. "I heard your admission eligibility expires soon. Such talent..."
"Personal circumstances prevent it."
"But your gifts-"
"I've never considered myself gifted."
"Nonsense! You dated this text instantly!"
Ian's smile held bitterness. "Theory alone doesn't make a mage."
He omitted his congenital mana dyssynergy - the "convergence disorder" barring practical magic. The Academy's competitive environment would only highlight his weakness.
"A pity. I lacked status to attend myself." Mist sighed.
"Your concern is noted."
"Of course." Rising abruptly, Mist bowed. "I've overstayed."
"Stay the night."
"Wanderers prefer the road. Farewell, Baron."
The parlor door closed. Ian sank onto the sofa, disquiet lingering.
A caw echoed outside.
He bolted upright. Mist's book lay forgotten on the cushion.
"Wilson!"
The butler hurried in. "My lord?"
"Where's our guest?"
"I never saw him depart..."
Ian rushed outside, book in hand. Empty grounds.
A black feather spiraled down, landing in his palm as crows cried above.
