Chapter 12: Talent

The afternoon class focused on the sentient races of the natural sciences, and the teacher had been replaced by another—this time, a half-elf healer. Bourne pondered this for a moment; it made sense. After all, a spellcaster, especially an arcanist, couldn’t possibly devote every day to tutoring him alone—this level of private instruction was a true luxury!

Oster Nylo. In Elvish, Nylo meant “night wind.”

If not for Oster’s green eyes, Bourne might never have realized he was a half-elf. His skin, hair, and other features were entirely human, except for a complexion paler and smoother than most. “Even half-elves are strikingly handsome? If the men are this attractive, the women must be breathtaking. I wonder what a true elf looks like…” Bourne mused. “Come to think of it, this body supposedly contains a quarter elven blood too…” Distracted by the half-elf teacher’s looks, Bourne’s mind began to wander. The rapid increase in his mental strength made his thoughts difficult to restrain.

Half-elves were rare in Netheril. Elves, as the current dominant race, weren’t taken as slaves—no one dared. Half-elves only came about by the elves’ own choice to mingle with humans, but elves held humans in such disdain that crossbreeding was rare indeed. Half-elves, then, were uncommon and precious.

They inherited the elves’ innate gifts—keen intuition, a deep love of nature and the arts. Though their lifespan wasn’t as long as a true elf’s, it far exceeded that of humans. In his century of life, Oster had seen countless “looks” like Bourne’s.

Oster wasted no time. After a brief self-introduction, he launched straight into the lesson. Picking up a slender twig, he began to write in mid-air—an elementary magical trick, but one that demanded precise control over magical energies. Not even the morning’s teacher could perform it so smoothly.

Bourne, however, was more captivated by Oster’s hands—longer and more graceful than most men’s, which looked rather unusual.

Oster’s voice was clear, yet gentle: “Elves typically live in close-knit clans within forests, with no more than two hundred members. Their secret villages are seamlessly woven into the woods, harming the forest as little as possible. They hunt, gather, and cultivate with special techniques and magic, living self-sufficiently without the need for plowed fields.

“Elves rarely interact with outsiders, though a few exchange fine clothing or handcrafted wares for metals they do not mine themselves, enjoying a comfortable life. Elves dwelling among humans are often wandering minstrels, celebrated artists, or wise sages. Human nobles frequently vie to hire elves to teach their children swordsmanship…”

Compared to Elwood’s textbook-style teaching, Oster’s lessons were far more engaging. As Bourne would say, “Handsome, pleasant-voiced teachers make every class a delight.”

Contrast could be cruel. The next morning, Elwood arrived with books, diagrams, and materials. Compared to Oster, Elwood’s teaching was dry and strictly by the book.

“Today, we’ll give a simple overview of the three most fundamental spellcasting methods: gestures, foci, and incantations.

“First, incantations—also called spells, prayers, or words of power—resonate with the Weave through specific frequencies, connecting to primal magic. The spell’s structure is projected, sending an intent to the elements of reality, allowing them to ‘receive’ and thus manipulate the world.

“The advantage: No need for extra movement—it’s all in your words. The more articulate, the shorter the casting time—very cost-effective. The downside: The higher the spell level, the longer and more complex the incantation. A single mispronunciation or interruption ruins everything. Your familiarity with the spell determines the degree of backlash if you fail. Using spells below your level is usually safe, but attempting spells far beyond your rank could make your head explode! Special note: Always guard against silence spells and the like!

“Second, gestures. Channeling magic through your body to the Weave, you use your fingers or other limbs to complete the spell’s structure. This is common among, for example, bards and their dances, or wizards and their ‘rituals.’

“Advantage: You can directly tweak the spell’s projection to correct flaws, sometimes making casting easier or even allowing for instant or silent spells. Downside: Requires solid theoretical grounding, an agile body, or nimble fingers. If you lack stamina or are injured in battle, your power drops drastically.

“Third, the use of foci. This is the most widely used approach in combat, suitable for most spellcasters and the current mainstream method. By breaking down spell materials, you stabilize the spell’s structure, cast faster, and can even reconnect the spell through your focus if interrupted. This is also why wizards wear long robes—you never know how many pockets they’re hiding!

“Advantage: Makes casting easier—just throw enough gold at it and you can cast almost anything. For example, with enough spider silk, a second-level Web spell can be cast like a cantrip. Downside: It’s expensive—every battle burns through your wealth. The higher the spell, the pricier the materials. This is why high-level wizards are so rich—you can’t be powerful without a fortune. Most wizards collect their own materials, and every year, many die trying!

“These are the three most common spellcasting techniques. There are others, of course, but we won’t discuss them here—they’ll be covered in the sections on evil gods and fiends.”

That afternoon, to Bourne’s surprise, the old butler Walker became his instructor. As the steward of the Eolum family, old Walker was indeed exceptional—not only a master of etiquette, but also of countless skills. If not for his butler’s attire, he could easily pass for a high-born noble.

Dressed in a dark tailcoat, pristine white shirt and gloves, every detail was immaculate. His wise eyes seemed to see through all things.

His teaching methods were equally refined. He gave Bourne clear and engaging explanations of the unique features and heraldic symbols of all the great Netherese families.

A month passed swiftly. Each time, old Walker could assess Bourne’s state perfectly, pushing him into a “final exam sprint” mindset reminiscent of his previous life, but without resistance or fatigue.

An avalanche of complex information flooded his mind—apart from magical theory, most of it was seemingly unrelated. While the teachers were all experienced, that didn’t necessarily translate into teaching skill. Knowing something and teaching it well are two entirely different matters!

Old Walker, the butler, proved to have the best teaching skills, followed by Oster, the half-elf healer.

Bourne also discovered that simply sitting in this study allowed him to focus perfectly. The room was clearly arrayed with peculiar magical formations.

Living life anew, equipped with an adult’s soul, Bourne understood the importance of power. He absorbed knowledge like a sponge, ravenous for every drop.

This was especially crucial now, in the aftermath of the Crown Wars. The elves had barely finished their civil strife, the various peoples were left weakened, and Netheril, thanks to its northern location, had escaped much harm. In fact, it absorbed the “inheritance” of many other peoples after the war.

Most of the great powers had perished in the war. As long as one didn’t go poking around old ruins or provoking the spawn of gods, high-level spellcasters could live quite comfortably—especially high arcanists.

In Netheril, high arcanists were truly formidable. There were only a handful in the entire nation. Just look at Bourne’s grandfather—he was the Vice-Chancellor, and a high arcanist!

Of course, in the later years of Netheril, even high arcanists would become mere elite cannon fodder. But for now, the Count could summon a new expert to teach Bourne every day.

It wasn’t just healers, scholars, and chefs—each was carefully selected. There were also infamous villains, teaching Bourne the harsh codes and secret argot of the underworld.

Notorious thieves—though they called themselves “artisans”—also taught him. Thanks to these lessons and his own memories from his past life, most purely mechanical locks were now child’s play for him.

If, when the floating cities eventually rose, the arcanists became all-powerful and began to experiment on the other races, even treating other nations as subhuman slaves or laboratory fodder, their infamy would spread to the Outer Planes—far surpassing even the Githyanki!

How fortunate to be reborn at this time. For the next four or five thousand years, Netheril would remain “safe.” As the saying goes, “Even a pig can fly if it’s caught in a strong enough wind.”

Bourne was determined: even if he wasn’t at the forefront, trailing just behind would be enough to make his mark. As for the issue of lifespan—was that really a problem?

Gazing at the mountain of books before him, Bourne felt a unique sense of accomplishment—and was amazed at his own memory. Every word from this pile of books was now stored in his mind!

Thanks to special magical arrays and memory techniques distilled from years of rote learning in his previous life, he could keep up. Otherwise, he’d never have managed.

Even the Count marveled at Bourne’s academic progress.

After all, at Bourne’s age, most boys were playful and restless. When first arranging these lessons, no one expected him to complete them all.

In truth, since crossing over to Toril, Bourne had accepted that he had no “golden finger”—no cheat-like advantage. His magical talent was nothing special.

He possessed no extraordinary gifts, no scheming brothers, no betrothed beauties threatening to break off engagements. He’d simply been born into the right family—an eventual noble of a future superpower, an only child for three generations.

As long as he kept his head down and avoided trouble, he was the very image of a pampered young lord.

Sometimes Bourne wondered if he was fated to become a villain, destined to serve as cannon fodder for some future protagonist, to hand over wealth and experience…

He knew that if he followed the standard path of a mage, he would never rise above the middle ranks.

But realizing his limits didn’t discourage him—instead, he became more diligent, more earnest. After mastering each day’s lessons, he devoted two hours to martial training, and even began to replace sleep with meditation.

He understood the simple truth: “The clumsy bird flies early.” Whether in stories or real life, there were countless examples of hard work surpassing innate genius.

If he lacked extraordinary talent, he would surpass the gifted through sheer perseverance.

More importantly, the path of the great arcanist did not require talent so much as it did knowledge and wisdom.

…