Chapter 43: The Scholar of the Archives

What is the most enchanting aspect of the Dungeons & Dragons fantasy world? The answers are too numerous to count! Endless campaigns, adventures, and intricate intrigues await! In Faerûn, too, the world is woven from countless small stories, each contributing to a grand tapestry. Among the many marvels of this fantastical realm, few things are as fascinating as the myriad and diverse professions one might encounter.

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Giles Academy, Task Hall.

Fellow members of the Arcane Society were being awarded for their investigation into the lizardfolk, with Academician Hawks presenting the prizes before the gathered crowd. To Bowen, the scene felt oddly reminiscent of school award ceremonies from his previous life.

This mission had not only wiped out a small tribe of lizardfolk—avenging the soldiers of the military—but had also resulted in the capture of the tribe’s chieftain, securing a glorious victory. Each participant received five hundred points and military merit, along with a coveted temporary pass to the Royal Library!

The surrounding crowd was utterly stunned by the generosity of the rewards. Yet Hawks was not done; he went on to announce that the Academy would now open its tasks to the public.

At once, an uproar broke out!

With the Arcane Society blazing a trail, it was obvious to anyone with sense that external tasks must be richly rewarded. The onlookers’ eyes turned red with envy; if not for Hawks standing in their way, they would have rushed forward to snatch the new assignments.

For many, the total points they’d earned over five years couldn’t compare to what the Arcane Society had just received.

Of course, Hawks then announced a series of rank regulations: a minimum of five members per team, with tasks assigned according to team rank.

Listening from the side, Bowen’s eyelids twitched wildly. What was this? Hadn’t he discussed this very system with his grandfather—the structure of the Mercenary Guild? During this mission, Bowen had already suspected the Academy’s next move; he had planned to draft a detailed proposal to earn some points once the external tasks were announced.

He hadn’t expected that casually mentioning it during a chat with the Count would result in such a comprehensive plan being adopted.

“So, novels really are full of lies, hmph!” Bowen mused. Wasn’t the protagonist supposed to be surrounded by fools? Why did everyone around him seem so clever instead? Could it be that he was just a minor character meant to serve as experience fodder for the real “chosen one”?

His thoughts began to drift...

...

After that, Bowen and his companions had little else to do with the proceedings.

The Arcane Society was flush with their newfound “fortune” of points, swept up in elation. The points and merits were quickly divvied up, but the single pass to the Royal Library was, of course, Bowen’s.

The value of that pass far exceeded any number of points: the Royal Library contained the notes of generations of court wizards, including legendary treatises and rare copies.

None of his companions objected; without Bowen, they might not have even gotten a taste of these rewards.

President Lisper, cheeks flushed, invited Bowen to form a team, but he politely declined. This surprised no one—they had already guessed as much, but made one last attempt for formality’s sake.

After all, earning points was effortless for Bowen. Despite the generous rewards of external tasks, they took too long—ten days to half a month at least.

At that moment, a student approached.

“Oh, I just remembered—I need to borrow a spellbook. I’ve been on the waiting list forever, and now I finally have enough points. Excuse me!” Darlene blurted out and hurried away.

The others watched her go, puzzled. Soon after, Cook and the other Arcane Society members found their own excuses and departed one by one.

Bowen turned to the president. Lisper’s expression changed from moment to moment, as though she were caught in indecision. But as the approaching student drew near, Lisper seemed to reach a conclusion and hurried off, leaving only a few words behind.

Bowen’s expression grew grave as he watched the “student” approach.

In no time, the space around them emptied; even those who drew near instinctively veered away. The newcomer’s appearance, in Bowen’s eyes, shifted entirely into another form.

“I never expected we would meet like this. It’s quite a surprise,” Bowen sighed, bowing deeply. “Archivist Rodney!”

Archivist Rodney was a true human, clad in a dark red robe, with lush flaxen-golden hair and eyes that shone with intelligence. A faint smile hovered at his lips.

Most “Archivists” were elves; the development of divine magic was even more advanced than arcane studies, requiring profound understanding of both spellcraft and theology—and, above all, time to accumulate knowledge. Human lifespan was so brief that any human who became an Archivist had to be a genius without peer.

It was, however, a most paradoxical profession.

Though the magic used by “Archivists” was fundamentally divine, much of their spellcasting resembled that of wizards. Thus, their learning and methods set them apart from the usual servants of the gods, making them more akin to mages.

Archivists sought the primal mysteries of divine power, regardless of its origin. Most divine spells wielded by clerics and holy casters were developed by Archivists themselves.

In a sense, Archivists were the arcane scholars of divine magic.

Their research was fraught with peril, for uncovering forbidden lore risked spiritual corruption.

“What remarkable purity of magical power—an astonishing arcane talent! No wonder you’re recognized as the Academy’s foremost scholar,” Rodney remarked, studying Bowen as if beholding a work of art.

“You flatter me. You were, after all, the Academy’s very first chief scholar. There’s still much I must learn from you,” Bowen replied calmly, meeting his gaze. “Isn’t that right, senior?”

Rodney had been among the first students at Giles Academy, and his first teacher was none other than Bowen’s grandfather, Count Iolam.

Though of common birth and only average talent, Rodney had a unique perspective on things. At the time, Count Iolam had just become a high-level arcanist and immediately recognized Rodney’s potential.

He soon took Rodney as his student.

When the Academy was newly founded and everything was experimental, Rodney was the first to be chosen as a student by a teacher—a point of envy among his peers.

He did not disappoint; by his second year, he had advanced to junior arcanist, claimed the top seat at the Academy, and founded the Arcane Society.

He helped manage daily affairs; even Conchenio once said that, were Rodney not a student, he would have made him vice president of the Academy.

Conchenio was already a legendary figure at that time; to so praise a mere junior student spoke volumes.

There was a rule, set at the founding: only high-level arcanists could be elected as vice president.

But after graduation, Rodney did not pursue the path of the arcanist—he turned instead to the divine, becoming an Archivist.

No one had seen it coming, not even his teacher, Count Iolam, who was left bitterly disappointed.

The event caused a great stir, and all records of it were sealed or destroyed.

Archivists, as developers of divine magic, held authority second only to the High Priest—and often knew even more than the pontiff himself.

If the pontiff was the “general manager” of the gods in the mortal world, the Archivist was their “secretary.”

Every Archivist was therefore a figure shrouded in mystery.

Bowen could sense the pressure of Rodney’s life force—he’d met high-level professionals before, but this was different, as though facing a wholly other kind of being.

“Alert! Foreign energy detected: 81% divine, 10% arcane, 9% …” The mechanical voice of the chip sounded in his mind.

Bowen quickly spread his “Qi” around himself, layering it thickly even over his brain.

Divine power was truly terrifying.

Seeing Bowen so on guard, Rodney looked at him with some surprise, then withdrew his divine power with a faint apology.

The chip’s warning faded; Bowen relaxed slightly, though he remained vigilant.

“Bowen, you truly are a genius—to have cultivated ‘Qi’ even with an incomplete breathing technique. We should have met sooner; we might have become great friends,” Rodney said, shaking his head with a trace of regret.

“Breathing technique?” Bowen was a little surprised, but quickly understood. For an Archivist not to know of it would have been more suspicious.

Under Bowen’s watchful gaze, Rodney flipped his hand, revealing a stack of golden scrolls.

“The Nether Scrolls?”

Bowen cried out, hardly daring to believe his eyes.

He had seen “golden scrolls” before; if it were only one or two, he wouldn’t have been surprised. But Rodney held ten at once! He’d spent nearly five years at the Academy, earning and spending points, and had only ever seen nine.

Rodney had produced ten in a single gesture—Bowen was astonished.

“Are… are these for me?” he asked, incredulous.

Rodney shook his head slowly. “I’m lending them to you for one week.”

As Rodney shook his head, Bowen braced for disappointment, but then realized he would be allowed to read them for a week—a sudden, dizzying happiness that nearly took his breath away.

Yet he kept his wits about him.

“Why?” he asked.

He knew that the corroded native core he’d handed over was not worth such a reward.

“The temple extracted much intelligence on other tribes from the captured lizardfolk. It was crucial to the temple’s cleansing campaign,” Rodney explained. “And I do have the authority to grant this.”

“Though ‘our paths diverge,’ I still owe you thanks.” Bowen accepted the scrolls, bowing again.

“Our paths diverge…?” Rodney’s eyes lit up as he savored the phrase.

Then he smiled. “I’ll come for them in a week. Farewell.”

With that, he turned and left.

Bowen watched him go, finally letting out a slow breath.

Just then, a voice whispered in his ear: “That thing on the back of your neck is quite interesting.”

In an instant, Bowen’s skin prickled with goosebumps.

...

(P.S. I’ve heard that recommendation votes can show up the next day! Though my updates are a bit clumsy, I’m working hard—give me some motivation, brothers!)