Equipment Printing School Mage
Page 234
The renowned Harper now said, "I thought the ghost dragon attack a while ago would leave Candlekeep in decline for a while... but surprisingly, this fortress has been able to recover so quickly. The clergy of the Knowledge Pantheon are much more resilient than I thought."
"Because they now have a clear goal - although this goal is not easy, it happens to be something they can achieve anyway." Apodale was leaning in the corner of the room at this moment.
"Emmia of Lunya, Mars of Candlekeep..." As he recited the names of Team Emia, Storm Silverhand's youthful and beautiful face showed an old man's satisfaction, which looked a bit funny. "It's really comforting to see that this world is still so vibrant."
However, Apodel's gaze at this moment was focused intently on Xinbu.
The most powerful wizard in Faerun was now sleeping soundly on the table like a child.
"I don't know Miss Simb very well, but I know how frustrating it is to take care of a reckless child." Apodel Adrian sighed, "If you weren't here, we would have been in a mess a long time ago."
"No, we are sisters, but we didn't actually grow up together. It's just that the person Xinbu is closest to is Elminster... and Elminster is like a half-adopted father to me—even though I was too naughty when I was young." Storm Silverhand shook his head, sat down beside Xinbu and pinched her cheek. "Perhaps these few days will be the longest time we spend together."
It looked more like the younger sister was playing a prank on her older sister.
Then, she couldn't help but say dejectedly, "This was probably the weakest period of our adult lives. Xinbu lost the sanity necessary for spellcasting, and we were so frightened that we didn't dare remove her anti-magic shackles. I, on the other hand, went from being a poet to a crude spellcaster, barely able to control my own silver fire."
Although it appears that Storm Silverhand is caring for Xinbu, it is actually two people who have lost the ability to protect themselves who are receiving refuge in Candlekeep.
The interactions between Apodale and Storm Silverhand can be described as polite.
——In a sense, it can also be said to be alienation.
Because they were strangers to each other. Aberdare had certainly heard of the Seven Sisters, but he had only actually met the leader of Waterdeep. Storm Silverhand was the most famous of the Seven Sisters, but she had long since retired. Therefore, meeting Storm Silverhand in Candlekeep was their first encounter.
"Miss Silverhand, there's something I've always been curious about: What was the second-generation magic goddess, Mystra, like?" Apodel asked. "Mystra died before I came of age. Actually, I'm a paladin promoted by Miss Midnight, and I don't know much about the second-generation magic goddess."
"...What an interesting question." Storm Silverhand was about to answer when he couldn't help but narrow his eyes slightly. "Does my answer matter? She passed away a long time ago. Even to an old man like me, her image has become very vague."
"I thought you were her biological daughter?"
"Perhaps?" Storm Silverhand exhaled and waved his hand vigorously. "Isn't the God of Slaughter also your father?"
Apodel was silent for a moment. "Putting the God of Magic and the God of Murder on the same level is inevitable..."
"At least for us, the difference isn't that great." Storm Silverhand curled her silver hair in her hand, twirling it slightly. "Even the eldest of the sisters didn't grow up with parental care. After Eer painstakingly raised us naughty little girls, we suddenly realized we were the daughters of the Goddess of Magic—a group of orphans who lost their parents, and yet we were actually the daughters of the Goddess of Magic! Does Mystra find this amusing?"
Storm Silverhand clearly disliked this topic and sighed, "Mystra created countless Chosen to protect the Weave, and the seven of us are but one of them. We have dedicated our lives to fighting for good and the Weave, and Mystra died for it—and so it all ends. I do not wish to be drawn into this meaningless conflict."
The resurrection of the Magic Goddess certainly cannot be a meaningless conflict.
Storm Silverhand was one of the most renowned Harpers, so it was impossible for him to be unaware of the conflict that had broken out in the previous meeting.
"I don't think this matter is that serious." Storm Silverhand leaned on the table, looked at Xinbu's profile and sighed, "It's not like we have no connection with each other, nor do we have any old grudges..."
"Even if there are concerns about the future, there's no need to create conflict now."
It's even quite the opposite. For example, Elminster can be said to be the common elder of several generations.
"...You are right."
Apodale sighed.
Elminster was the mentor of several of the Seven Sisters... and had relationships with several of them, and was even still the lover of Xinbu. His influence on the Seven Sisters was self-evident.
To Elminster, there was a huge difference between the goddess of magic and the goddess of magic.
Storm Silverhand couldn't help but speak, "Mr. Apodel, I'm a high-ranking Harper—I've met Gorion several times. I'm considered your elder, but there's one thing I'm really curious about—Secret Fire Knights are almost all born from the Church of Mystra, and therefore most are from Waterdeep, Silvermoon, and even Halruaan... There's no Church of Mystra in Candlekeep, so how did you become a paladin of the Goddess of Magic?"
"There is a connection." Apodel was silent for a moment, then replied, "During the years I was in Candlekeep, the then Chief Reader, Testoril, was a priest of Mystra..."
Apodale hesitated for a moment, then finally heaved a long sigh.
Storm Silverhand had nothing to hide or be wary of from him, so he told him directly.
"But the reason I became a paladin of Mystra...is actually very simple and a complete coincidence."
The renowned paladin sighed as he sat down in the hall. "Back then, I was barely ten years old, at my most conceited and rebellious. I'd even just made a mistake. That day, I was punished by Gorion and forced to serve as a tour guide for visitors in the Central Library."
"...?" Storm Silverhand blinked. "Does this have anything to do with our topic?"
"Yes," Apodel said with a nostalgic look on her face. "To put it simply, no one would ask a child for directions back then. There was only one black-haired female mage who was probably a little nervous and didn't want to appear ignorant in front of the monks... so she chose to ask for directions in a half-joking way from a child who was a dozen years younger than her."
"That year was 1357 in the Valley calendar."
"Hmm?" Storm Silverhand suddenly reacted.
There was nothing special about the year 1357.
But the following year, 1358 of the Vale calendar, was one of the most earth-shaking years in Faerun's history.
"Yes," said Apodale, "it's just fate."
"A year later, the sorceress found several allies: Kelemvor, Cyric, and Atun. She eventually killed an enemy named Melkor above Waterdeep. By retrieving the Tablet of Destiny and receiving the gift from Mystra, she became the new goddess of magic."
Apodel Adrian said calmly, "So, the reason I embarked on the path of the Secret Fire Knight is because the third generation Magic Goddess Midnight personally invited me."
"Even though I am a son of Bhaal, my duty as a paladin has never wavered."
This information made even the venerable Storm Silverhand tremble. "I'm incredibly grateful you're willing to tell me this... But I must say, I originally thought the civil war was just a fantasy, but now it seems it might not be."
Apodel Adrian was in fact a Chosen One, not just one of hundreds of Secret Fire Knights.
"I hope it won't come to that." Apodile Adrian said sincerely.
At this moment, a strange light flashed in Storm Silverhand's eyes: "Wait a minute, Mr. Apodale... How far has the shadowy trouble progressed?"
"Now?" Apodel frowned. "The shadows of the perpetrators and victims have begun to gain substance and are able to attack the living."
“…What if this continues?”
"It's nothing more than a further increase in the scope, intensity, and frequency of the impact." Apodel shook his head. "All sorts of unexpected apparitions may appear next... I'm mentally prepared for a reunion with Gorion, and even a fierce battle."
************************
On the other hand, the interpretation of the Holy Avenger has officially begun.
In other words, everyone is about to start feasting on this pile of shit.
"We know what's written in these texts, but we don't even know what language is used—and the interpreters themselves may not even understand the knowledge. And finally, we still need to sort out the author's complete thoughts from them?"
The monks of Candlekeep looked at each other.
Not every monk is a professional, and not every priest specializes in divine arts. Therefore, even if the priests who come here are below the fifth ring, it does not mean that they are not skilled, nor does it mean that they lack the ability to interpret.
The bad news is that, from the current perspective, the author of the drawings may not be well-trained.
A monk repeated the request he had received, glanced at the messy warehouse, and then looked at the people of Gond with suspicion.
When most priests copied scriptures by hand, these Gond people would use their energy to mix paper pulp and ink - now that the information has become a waste pile, no matter how you look at it, these carpenters and stonemasons are very suspicious.
"I must clarify something." Huss's hands moved like a windmill. "These notes were already in this mess when we received them."
"So, now, we don't know what these texts contain, or even what language they're written in—and we ourselves may not even understand the knowledge contained therein. And now, we need to sort out the author's complete train of thought from them?" A monk repeated the difficulty they were about to encounter, asking with a puzzled look on his face. "Did we commit some mistake recently that earned us collective exile to Fertile Castle? This looks exactly like those piles of old papers there."
One of his colleagues sneered, "Every masterpiece is wonderful in its own way, but all garbage heaps look the same."
Emiya sighed and said, "I understand this will be extremely difficult. That's why I've specially invited the world's most outstanding scholars to participate in this extremely difficult project. As long as you need me, I will definitely do my best."
"I won't say anything else," a monk said. "The biggest difference between this chaotic manuscript and the books in the Central Library is that it might not be a completed work. It could very well be just the ravings of a madman... You must be prepared."
"I believe that as long as you work hard, you will always see some results," Emilia replied. "If there really is no result, then there is no result. I still thank everyone for their help."
However, in that case, he would have to devote all his energy to the firearms of the Gond people.
And they have Silver, and Emiya doesn't believe there is a magic puzzle that Silver can't solve.
At this moment, after flipping through a few pieces of parchment at hand, Yin silently pulled Emiya's horn, his eyes full of tears: "...Emiya, I don't understand...I don't understand it at all! I can understand every word, but when combined, I have no idea what he is saying!"
Eighteen Wild Mages
"Uh……"
Emilia hesitantly took the parchments from Yin's hands.
After several months of intensive study, Yin's magical theory had already caught up with Emiya's level. She was not some purely practical barbarian warlock in mage's guise.
Not to mention, her sensitivity to magic is not something Emiya can compare to.
"Can't understand?" These three words coming out of her mouth were too strange.
He unfolded the parchment and was stunned: the content on it was not something deliberately concealed.
To make an analogy, what is written on this parchment is something as absurd as 380mm naval gun combat techniques.
It's not even like the splitting of weapons, which is mixed with psychic elements - psychic energy may bring everything in the world into the mind, but psychic energy will never allow mental energy to run rampant in the body.
It's more like the opposite. The way they use psychic energy is like the creatures that live in the sea of chaos: stabilizing the chaotic exterior with their inner selves. They can't be madmen who don't even know what they're doing.
But now, Emilia had to wonder what kind of person the author of this drawing was.
"I failed, and failed again. I clearly succeeded once, but no matter what I do, I can't recapture the feeling of that success. Why is this? What should I do to recapture that feeling of casting a spell?
"—Could it be that I haven't drunk enough?"
My pupils trembled just after reading the first line!
It's okay to drink alcohol when making magic items, but what do you mean by failure is because you didn't drink enough? The author is a dwarf?
Is this author sober? This is the first time I've heard that the success of a spell depends on feeling! If you learn it, you learn it. If you don't, you don't. It's fine if you're still practicing, but why would you attribute your success or failure to alcohol consumption?
Is this guy really a mage?
He was silent for a moment and flipped through a few pages silently.
The content is also similar.
Broadly speaking, these pages were actually quite readable—the text Emiya had been reading was just a collection of casual thoughts and inspirations tucked away in corners, fragmented and unstructured. These pages could at least be considered lab reports.
The bad news is that this doesn't look like an experimental report at all, but rather like the wonderful memories of an addict - this guy, who looks like an alcoholic, is trying hard to recall his feelings when he was drunk, using all kinds of indescribable rhetoric to describe the feeling when he cast the spell.
Feeling, feeling.
This extremely subjective thing has actually become a process of casting a spell in the author's place——
Who can understand this!
Not to mention, the handwriting on the first few pages was resentful and anxious. But on the last page, those emotions escalated completely into despair. After a series of incoherent outbursts, the author concluded: "—Damn it. Could it be that I was just lucky with that Holy Avenger?!"
"...?"
Emiya was stunned.
Finished product?
Such a random experimental record actually produced a finished product?
He stood up suddenly, walked past the monks preaching in various postures, and quickly walked to the next room. With a slight wave of his hand, he dispersed the smell of gunpowder. He asked the people of Gond who were busy tinkering with their muskets, "Everyone, is there any so-called 'sample' among the items that the wizard sent?"
"Samples?" The people of Gond looked at each other in surprise, then Hus clapped his head. "I remember now! Among the gifts delivered, there was indeed a package marked as a sample. This is of course the most important material. But I suspect they marked it incorrectly, so I put it away separately. I'm verifying with the wizard, but I haven't received a reply yet."
"The marking is wrong?" Emiya was stunned for a moment. "Why do you say that?"
"Because this so-called sample, no matter how you look at it, is definitely not the Holy Avenger." Huss took out a large, carefully wrapped package from his dimensional bag and handed it to Emiya. "You'll know once you open it?"
This package
Emiya carefully opened the package, revealing a layer of linen inside.
Open the linen, and you will see thick and compact cotton wool inside.
Within the cotton wool lies exquisite silk.
The inside of the silk is tanned leather.
Emilia raised her head in silence and looked at Hus: "...Didn't you say you had already opened it?"
Huss coughed lightly. "Yes, it took me a little effort to completely restore this package, but such a small task is not difficult for the people of Gond in Baldur's Gate."
Don't use the talents of the people of Gond on such funny packaging!
Even so, when Emilia found that the package was getting bigger and bigger, his brows couldn't help but frown deeper and deeper. Finally, he saw in disbelief that the package that was originally quite heavy was reduced to a small piece the size of a palm.
He took a deep breath and held up the final contents: "...The Holy Avenger's sample, why is it a broken dagger?"
This small, plain and featureless dagger looks like a prop used by mages to practice enchantment, and it's the cheapest and cheapest kind!
Hus shrugged. "That's why I suspected it was the wrong one. But unfortunately, I've already divined, and at least this dagger is a true sample."
Emiya silently raised the dagger in her hand and looked at it carefully.
Simple.
Even using the most tolerant standards, this is the only conclusion we can draw.
The rune above is unfamiliar and definitely not one of the existing mature enchantments.
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