Data & Magic

The two days leading up to the scheduled meeting with Lord Marshal Sir Gerald felt like a held breath, a moment of tense anticipation before a plunge into the unknown. The Aver Capital, already on edge, seemed to vibrate with a nervous energy, the threat of war a palpable presence in the air. William, though not directly involved in the high-level strategic discussions, found himself caught up in the city's mood, the pervasive anxiety a constant undercurrent to his own personal explorations.

He used the time as productively as he could. His first order of business was to officially register with the Adventurers Guild. He sought out Max, the burly, red-faced man he and Julia had met on their arrival. Max, with a mixture of amusement and gruff encouragement, guided William through the registration process, a surprisingly simple affair involving a few basic questions, a declaration of intent, and the imprinting of a small, metallic disc – his adventurer's badge – with a series of runes alongside the sword, staff and shield symbol.

"F-rank, eh?" Max had said, his voice booming across the common room, drawing a few curious glances. "Everyone starts somewhere, lad. Don't let it discourage you. Work hard, prove your worth, and you'll climb the ranks soon enough. There's plenty of opportunity for advancement these days, what with the war and all." He'd clapped William on the shoulder, a gesture that nearly sent him sprawling, and wished him good luck.

The F-rank designation, while expected, was a humbling reminder of his novice status in this world. But it also represented a beginning, a formal acknowledgment of his entry into this new life, a commitment to the cause, however small his initial contribution might be. He could, as Max had explained, take on missions assigned by the Guild, earn rewards, and eventually, take tests to increase his rank, gaining access to better resources, more challenging assignments, and a greater degree of recognition.

With his official status secured, William spent the next two days exploring the various districts of the Aver Capital, each a microcosm of the kingdom's diverse society. He wandered through the bustling marketplaces of the Commons District, observing the merchants hawking their wares, the craftsmen plying their trades, the common folk going about their daily lives, their faces etched with a mixture of worry and resilience. He visited the Military District, a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos of the Commons, with its orderly barracks, its well-maintained training grounds, and its air of disciplined preparation. He glimpsed the opulent mansions of the Royal District, a world of wealth and privilege that seemed a million miles away from the struggles of the common folk, a reminder of the social inequalities that existed even in the face of a common enemy. He even made a brief, cautious foray into the Church District, drawn by the promise of ancient knowledge and the potential for insights into the lost art of healing magic.

During his explorations, he overheard snippets of conversation, gathered rumours and gossip, pieced together a fragmented picture of the city's mood, of the kingdom's plight. He heard whispers of the Blackcombe family's continued profiteering, their ruthless exploitation of the war, their growing influence within the capital. But he also learned that not all Blackcombes were in agreement with the family's current course. Whispers spoke of a growing rift, a power struggle within the family itself, with some members actively, albeit discreetly, working to thwart the head of the family's more egregious schemes. These rumours of internal discord, unusual for a family as tightly knit and traditionally secretive as the Blackcombes, were spreading through the city, adding another layer of uncertainty to the already tense atmosphere.

He also heard discussions about the overall state of the war, the grim realities facing the Kingdom of Aver. King Bartam, though respected and loved by his people for his past wisdom and just rule, was undeniably growing old and frail. His health had been declining for years, a fact that fuelled anxieties about the kingdom's future leadership, about the potential for a succession crisis at the worst possible time. The rapid buildup of the military, the massive investment in the Adventurers Guild, while necessary, were proving to be a significant strain on the kingdom's finances. The royal coffers, once overflowing, were dwindling, and the cost of maintaining a war footing was proving to be a heavy burden. Yet, despite these hardships, the people of Aver remained largely supportive of their King, trusting in his leadership, believing in his commitment to defending the realm.

The figure of Dark Lord Neverus loomed large in these whispered conversations, a shadowy presence that dominated the city's collective consciousness. He was a figure shrouded in mystery, his origins unknown, his motivations unclear. He had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, a sudden and devastating threat to the long-standing peace of the land. No one seemed to know why he had launched this war, why he had unleashed his monstrous hordes upon the unsuspecting kingdom. The centuries of relative peace, the lack of any major conflicts between humans and the various monstrous races, made his aggression all the more baffling. There had to be a reason, a driving force behind his seemingly senseless violence, but that reason remained elusive, a subject of endless speculation and growing fear.

William also dedicated a significant portion of his time to researching ways to improve his mana capacity, driven by his desire to master the EMMA system and unlock its full potential. He spent hours in the Guild's library, a vast repository of knowledge, poring over dusty tomes, seeking out ancient texts, seeking any scrap of information that might shed light on the mysteries of mana manipulation.

He discovered three primary methods, traditionally used by mages to enhance their magical power.

The first, and most common, was the path of constant practice, of repeated spellcasting, of pushing one's mana reserves to their limit, and then allowing them to slowly recover. This method, akin to physical exercise, gradually strengthened the "mana muscles," increasing both the capacity of the "cup" and the efficiency of the "funnel," as Julia had described it. But it was also the most dangerous, carrying the risk of mana backlash, of permanent damage to one's magical pathways or potentially even death.

The second method involved the use of rare and potent herbs, specifically a legendary plant known as Magebloom. This mythical herb, said to bloom only in areas saturated with magical energy, under the light of a specific constellation, and guarded by fearsome creatures, was rumored to possess extraordinary properties, capable of dramatically increasing a mage's mana capacity and absorption rate. But the texts were clear: Magebloom was considered all but extinct, a relic of a bygone age, its existence relegated to the realm of myth and legend. Even if a specimen could be found, the ancient texts hinted that the precise method of utilizing its power had been lost to time. The knowledge of how to properly prepare and consume the herb, of how to unlock its full potential without suffering devastating side effects, was simply gone, making the pursuit of Magebloom a potentially futile, and almost certainly dangerous endeavour.

The third method involved the use of magical artifacts, objects imbued with powerful enchantments, capable of storing and channelling mana, acting as an external reservoir of magical energy, supplementing the mage's own innate abilities. But such artifacts were incredibly rare, incredibly expensive, and often jealously guarded by powerful individuals or families. The knowledge of crafting such items was said to reside solely with the elves of Lumenar, a reclusive race known for their mastery of magic and their reluctance to share their secrets with outsiders.