Chapter 16: Money and Points

Bourne never expected that his identity would be uncovered so soon after enrolling. The apprentice’s face was first filled with shock, but then he nodded, accepted the gold coin, and led Bourne outside. They walked to a secluded spot, where the apprentice glanced around to ensure no one was nearby before bowing to Bourne and speaking.

“If I’m not mistaken, you must be Lord Bourne Iolem, am I right?” the apprentice inquired, though his tone was certain.

“Oh?” Bourne responded with curiosity. He had not spoken to anyone along the way, nor did he carry any distinguishing emblems. To have his identity exposed at the first encounter took him by surprise.

“How did you recognize me?”

“Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lehman Iwantov—just call me Lehman,” he said with a smile. “I’m a third-year student at the academy. You must have noticed I’m a commoner, or you wouldn’t have sought me out. There are thirty thousand students here, the vast majority nobles like yourself. Only about eight thousand are commoners. As it happens, whether they are lower or upper-year nobles, I know them all—just in case, to avoid unnecessary... incidents.”

Though Lehman phrased it diplomatically, Bourne could still sense the resignation in his words. It was clear that commoners faced a certain degree of oppression at Giles Academy.

This was not unexpected; those with vested interests always protect their own class and suppress those below. Bourne was not naïve enough to feel indignant after just a few words from Lehman.

“Though you’re in disguise, given the timing and the rumors that swept the academy just days ago, it wasn’t hard to guess!” Lehman continued.

Bourne thought for a moment, then unconsciously stroked his chin. “Am I really so well-known already?”

“No! Your name is thunderous, especially among the new students!”

“Heh…” Bourne raised an eyebrow, thinking, “So it’s true—my promotion has ruffled quite a few feathers.”

Indeed, upon entering the academy, Bourne noticed that most were apprentices. The few professionals he detected seemed much ‘weaker’ than himself; even without magic, he was confident he could handle several of them.

Of course, perhaps it was because the majority he’d seen were commoners or minor nobles. The truly capable ones were likely over at the Mage’s Tower.

Still, it took intelligence to gain admission to Giles Academy; fools would never get in. As for being recognized by Lehman, it was simply an accident—a reminder to Bourne not to underestimate anyone.

Lehman was clearly familiar with Giles Academy, not his first time guiding newcomers.

The Mage’s Tower was the true heart of the academy, its very presence keeping magical energies in a perpetual state of vibrancy. Even those born without talent, after living here for years, often had descendants gifted in magic.

The first three levels of the Mage’s Tower were open to academy members; access above that required special clearance. Some senior teachers had their own areas within the Tower. Beyond the Tower, the academy boasted numerous auxiliary buildings. The library Bourne had visited earlier was only one—completely open-access, containing basic arts, history, and biographies.

In reality, there were two other libraries. One, on the Tower’s fourth floor, held extensive magical research; only those of a certain rank could peruse it. The other, rumored to be at the very top—the Headmaster’s office and private collection—was said to house spells that transcended even the highest ranks.

Lehman showed Bourne around the entire academy, helping him grasp the lay of the land. There were public areas, residential quarters for commoners, even a food street of sorts. There were teaching blocks, arenas, training grounds, and the task hall. He pointed out forbidden zones and cultivation areas, warning that anyone but authorized personnel would be met with magical traps.

He went on to teach Bourne how to apply for supplies, where to find the right people for various needs, and offered advice on common matters.

This guide was truly excellent—concise, to the point, and always able to clarify Bourne’s questions with the briefest of explanations. Bourne found him both intelligent and adept at communication. He paid Lehman double the agreed fee; Lehman did not refuse. For a noble, it was pocket change, but for commoners like Lehman, every copper had to be carefully counted.

“Thank you so much for your generosity. If you ever need anything, I’d be delighted to assist again. We do have our ways around certain problems,” Lehman said.

“I suspect that time will come sooner than you think,” Bourne replied with a smile.

Lehman was briefly taken aback, but then smiled, gave a mage’s salute, and turned to leave.

Watching Lehman’s departing figure, Bourne reflected that birth was itself a skill. Had he not been born to the Iolem family, he too might now be forced to hustle and scheme for a living like Lehman—perhaps even worse, with no time at all to pursue the extraordinary path…

“It seems I’ll have to keep a low profile for a while,” Bourne sighed. He did not believe the Iolem name would intimidate everyone; there was more than one vice principal, and even Principal Conchenio had rivals, not to mention the counts.

Bourne went to the logistics office and changed to a single room. The cost—a hundred gold coins per month—stung, but when he saw what passed for a ‘single,’ he decided it was worth it: a detached three-story townhouse with every amenity.

The dormitory bunks were cheap, but noisy and lacking privacy. Given his sensitive identity, he would be watched constantly—a situation he wished to avoid.

He added some small disguises: a set of old, common robes, some padding for height, a touch of makeup to appear less youthful…

Over the next few days, Bourne gradually blended in. Since he deliberately kept a low profile, no one aside from Lehman suspected his true identity. Those who noticed anything odd assumed he was simply a minor noble who wished to avoid attention.

One morning, Bourne arrived at Lecture Hall Seven in the teaching block. That afternoon, a free public lecture was scheduled; the classroom was already more than half full.

Courses at the academy required fees—different subjects and paces dictated different prices. Bourne donned an old gray robe and slipped in unnoticed, taking a seat at the back.

Glancing about, it was easy to tell from their clothes that most were commoners or the offspring of fallen nobles.

“It seems free courses are still quite attractive to the commoner class,” Bourne mused.

After ten minutes, a middle-aged man entered. From the whispers around him, Bourne learned this was Ludinson, a teacher of geography and geology.

“Precious gemstones are not just for beautifying or empowering wands—they can also enhance a wand’s potency,” Ludinson began bluntly, getting straight to the point. He produced several differently colored gems and placed them on the desk.

“Fire opal, a bright orange-red stone, is usually found near hot springs or geysers. It is essential for crafting a Shining Helm.

Red zircon, also called hyacinth or flame stone, is related to sapphires and other corundums. Each red zircon holds a tiny flicker of fire within—enough to be seen from afar, though not enough to light its surroundings. This quality makes it a favored material for the capes and gowns of noble attire…”

Bourne listened quietly as Ludinson, indifferent to the students, lectured to himself while handling a few inferior gems. Some students even used a moment when the teacher looked down to slip out, but he paid them no mind.

After several days of attending free lectures and piecing together information from classmates, Bourne gained a decent understanding of the academy’s teaching model. Giles Academy was quite similar to the universities he recalled from his previous life.

Most students were Netherese; among the faculty were also halflings, half-elves, and other races.

History, geography, regional studies, and religion made up the bulk of the curriculum, with teachers of varying quality. Swordsmanship and martial skills were most popular among commoners, as magic was too expensive for the average family to afford.

Martial training was relatively straightforward—anyone willing to endure hardship could become a warrior. But it was clear: the better the teacher, the higher the cost.

The highest level of knowledge belonged to the arcane arts—the main draw for nobles. The arcane curriculum was broad: potion-making, materials science, and magical theory were common, while rune magic, alchemy, and similar classes were the most coveted—and rarest.

Arcane courses were taught only by mid-level spellcasters or above, who spent most of their days immersed in research. Unless they ran out of experiment funds, they rarely lectured, and even then the topic depended on their mood.

Sometimes, if a teacher got excited, the subject would jump from applied magic to the basics of magical synergy. Some would even, in the midst of explaining, experience a breakthrough and rush off to the lab, their experiments lasting weeks or even longer, and students would simply have to wait until the project was finished.

The library was where most acquired knowledge. The public library had extensive holdings, including some basic arcane texts, though much was still undeciphered. Gaining enough knowledge to cast spells from these alone was nearly impossible.

The other route was through merit points; with enough points, one could access the Mage’s Tower library and its arcane tomes.

There were endless places to spend money at the academy. Bourne glanced over the courses he wanted to enroll in; his thousand gold coins would just barely cover it, with a little left over—enough to scrape by for a month if spent frugally.

Bourne could only laugh wryly. His grandfather had certainly kept him on a tight leash.

…

“Here you go.”

Bourne accepted a token from the man opposite him, made of some unknown material. Channeling mana into it, he immediately sensed the result.

One merit point!

The man had gone to lengths to disguise himself—altering his voice, covering his face—and left as soon as Bourne confirmed the transaction.

The academy discouraged trading merit points, but did not prohibit it; students often made private deals. This particular seller was a commoner—nobles, by and large, did not lack for funds—and this system allowed some wealth to flow to the common student body.

Bourne had spent a hundred gold coins to acquire this token, his key to the Mage’s Tower library. One merit point was only the bare minimum.

…

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