Chapter 243: Apprenticeship
The bard Yaslan lightly brushed the strings of the wooden lyre cradled in his arms. A crisp, crystalline note rang out with an uncanny resonance.
Aslan tilted his head as if listening for something only he could hear. After a few seconds, he closed his eyes and gave a slight nod.
"I believe I've found the one you're looking for. Might I see your map?"
His violet eyes opened and fell on Wang Yu. He extended a hand, gesturing for the map the barkeep had provided.
"Of course."
Wang Yu handed over the bark-carved map without hesitation, waiting for Yaslan to mark the location of the person he sought.
"She's a human living in Liaheim. Like you, she bears a connection to Elder Gewen. Her name is Moira, and she's a master alchemist of considerable repute. She and Elder Gewen share some history. If you seek her out, I doubt she'll turn you away."
Aslan drew a dot on the map, then returned it to Wang Yu. He offered a few words about the herbalist he was recommending.
"Thank you."
Wang Yu studied the marked spot, which was conveniently close to their new residence.
"May fortune favor you," Yaslan replied. He waved farewell with a smile. "You carry something I've not seen in years,something rare. You'll craft a tale all your own, I daresay. Perhaps I'll have the chance to sing of it in Liaheim. To give voice to such stories... that is both my calling and the source of my power."
"I'd rather not, myself," Wang Yu replied wearily. "There's an old saying from a great leader I quite agree with: ‘The more miracles you experience, the sooner you die.' Same goes for thrilling tales. I'll pass."
"Wise words..." Aslan mused, expression thoughtful, before giving a more solemn nod. "Then allow me to wish you peace, instead."
"Thanks. Oh, by the way—I missed the chance earlier, but if we meet again, I've got a tale I think you'll appreciate."
Wang Yu belatedly remembered something. Yaslan was a bard, and Wang Yu happened to carry the final memory of a forgotten soul: Samuel, the librarian who sealed himself away for the sake of unbound knowledge until he was lost to the world.
Wang Yu was one of only two people in the world who knew his true identity. And in the end, even Samuel had hoped that someone, somewhere, would remember his story.
"Then I shall look forward to it," Aslan replied with a smile and a nod.
With a final wave, the three of them parted from the bard and continued on to their temporary lodging.
The map quickly guided them toward their new residence, which lay near the base of the Tree of Life. It was part of a cluster of dwellings crafted into the massive base. The wooden homes were artfully arranged, refined yet natural, and non-elven races seemed to be a common sight.
At the entrance to the housing district, beside a solitary building manned by elven guards, a familiar figure awaited them.
"There you are," said Sieg as he approached. "I've been waiting for a bit. The guards hadn't seen you, but I figured you'd pass this way eventually."
"We stopped by a tavern to ask for directions and met a rather odd bard and a very peculiar cat. We ended up delaying a little."
"Not surprising. Liaheim is full of strange faces and stranger stories to outsiders like us," Sieg replied. "I've already spoken with the guards. Just show them your tokens—they'll take you to your lodgings. Elven guests are well looked after."
He turned to Noelle and affectionately tousled her hair.
"I plan to take Noelle sightseeing around Liaheim. I owe her that much. All these years hiding her away... it's time to let her see the world a little. With the mists cloaking Liaheim and the safety of elven territory, there's no longer any need for secrecy."
Sieg took his sister's hand and shared his plan with Wang Yu and the others.
"Sounds good. We're actually heading out ourselves to find a woman named Moira. She's supposed to be a master herbalist. I'm hoping to learn from her and improve my own skills."
Wang Yu shared his intentions as well.
"Moira? Where did you hear about her?"
Sieg clearly didn't expect to hear that name.
"A bard named Yaslan mentioned her. Is something wrong?" Wang Yu tilted his head, puzzled.
"Yaslan... I think I've heard that name before. Regardless, I'm sure he's no ordinary bard.
"What he told you is true. Moira is a master of the craft. Even in all of Liaheim, there are few who could rival her in herbalism—perhaps even none. If you can convince her to teach you, it will be a rare and valuable opportunity."
He paused, frowning slightly.
"Still, her relationship with Gewen is complicated. I can't say whether knowing him will help you or hinder you. Given her temperament, if she takes a liking to you, she won't refuse your request."
"That's fair. If it works out, great. If not, no hard feelings."
Wang Yu was relatively easygoing about it. Seeking a mentor was always a gamble; if she declined, he wouldn't feel too bad.
"Good luck, then. I'm off to show Noelle the sights."
Sieg waved at Wang Yu before leading Noelle toward the elven residences.
"Should we bring something?" Wang Yu asked Avia. "Feels like it might be rude to show up empty-handed."
He hadn't sought out a master before, and the etiquette of such matters wasn't something he was used to. His instincts from Earth suggested that a thoughtful gift could help.
"No need," Avia replied calmly. "If she's close to Elder Gewen, she's unlikely to be swayed by trinkets. What will matter is our sincerity."
Avia had a point. If Moira truly was the kind of person Sieg described—admired by elves, praised by Sieg, and connected to Elder Gewen—then there was little Wang Yu could offer materially that would impress her. It was better to come with open hands and earnest hearts.
Without delay, they made their way to the location Aslan had marked.
They arrived within ten minutes. Before them stood a most unusual building—if it could be considered one at all. It resembled a living tree more than a house, lush and vibrant, wrapped in vines and crowned with leaves. It was nestled within a small courtyard built around the Tree of Life.
Only a few features marked it as a dwelling: several glass-paned windows set into the bark, and a wooden door aligned with a stone path that led from the courtyard.
"She's a true expert," Wang Yu murmured, eyes scanning the garden. "These are high-grade magical plants, superior even to those in the Forest of Origin. That's a ten-year mandragora bloom... and over there, timepods? We've got to be careful not to disturb anything."
Just one look was enough to tell him about the depth of Moira's knowledge of herbalism must run. These plants were notoriously difficult to cultivate outside their native environments. For someone to grow them in a magically sustained courtyard was a testament of skill—and power.
"The environment here is maintained entirely by magic," Avia observed, her gaze sweeping over the lush, orderly beds. "Each plot of rare herbs has its own array of enchantments and magic circles, carefully tailored to the specific needs of the plants. For so many distinct magical fields to coexist in such proximity without interfering with one another... Whoever set this up must be a magician of considerable skill."
The courtyard had no gate; it stood open to the forest beyond. A simple stone path led straight to a treehouse nestled among the branches. The two of them followed the path, their steps light against the weathered slabs, until they reached the wooden door.
Seeing no bell or knocker, Wang Yu raised his hand and rapped on the door. The sound of his knuckles echoed within the hollow of the treehouse.
Footsteps approached from inside. Then came a creak as the wooden door opened. An elderly woman appeared, cloaked in grey, leaning on a smooth, polished staff. Her face was etched with deep wrinkles, the sag of her flesh lending her a strange heaviness despite her gaunt frame.
"And who might you be?" the old woman asked sharply. "What business do you have with an old hag like me? If you're here to rob me, don't expect me to be polite."
She was the very image of decrepitude—sunken eyes streaked with red veins, a voice shrill yet oddly vigorous, and a demeanor bristling with suspicion and impatience.
It was hard to believe that this haggard figure was the very same Moira whom Sieg had praised as a master herbalist.
But Wang Yu had no doubt she could make good on her threat. From the vantage point granted by the Chariot, he had already peered into the house and seen the object she was concealing behind her back: a vial of lethal catalyst. A single drop could prove fatal to even a grand knight if left untreated.
Worse, she had infused it with an alchemical ignition agent. If she chose to activate it, the resulting poisonous mist would surely be fatal to any intruder.
"Madam Moira, I presume?" Avia stepped forward, her tone respectful and clear. "We've heard of your mastery in the art of herbalism. We've come to seek your guidance and see if you would be willing to instruct us."
Wang Yu had to admit that Avia's gentle nature and youthful charm made her far more approachable than himself. Her request was delivered with such sincerity that it was hard not to warm to her.
Moira nodded. "I am she. Come to learn herbalism from me, you say? I didn't think anyone still remembered an old woman like me. And you're both human, no less. Strange... This is Liaheim, the elven capital. I haven't shown my face in public in many years. Are you perhaps acquainted with someone I know?"
"Not directly," Avia replied, "but I believe we do know someone connected to you. This is his token."
She reached into her satchel and drew out a large, glossy acorn—the token Gewen had entrusted to them—and held it up for Moira to see.
"Gewen? Hm." The old woman's brow arched with mild surprise, and her voice took on a note of amused sarcasm. "If that's the case, it's a little odd you'd come here to learn herbalism from me."
She chuckled dryly, though there was a curious glint in her eyes.
"But no matter. That man can't tell me what to do. It's been a long time since anyone's come knocking. No one ever dared, not back then. You two are the first—and both humans, just like me."
For a moment, a flicker of interest softened the worn lines of her face.
"These last few years, I've had little to occupy myself with. Taking on two students isn't out of the question. However..." Her eyes narrowed. "I'll need to test you first. If you fail, I won't teach you. In fact, I won't even let you step across my threshold."
With that, she slipped the catalyst vial into a pouch at her waist, propped her staff against the door, and folded her arms as she faced them squarely.
"Please," Avia said with a respectful bow, "we're ready to face any test you set us."
"Herbalism," Moira said, tapping her wrinkled temple with a finger, "is more than practical skill. It demands deep knowledge—of ingredients, properties, interactions. I don't know the first thing about you, and I certainly won't waste my ingredients letting you experiment freely. So, we'll keep it simple. I'll quiz you. I want to know how much theory you've retained."
Her sharp eyes flicked between the two would-be students.
"One question per person. You'll alternate. I won't take on both of you just because one of you passes. You each have to prove yourselves."
She pointed at Wang Yu. "You first. Why was herbalism split from the broader discipline of alchemy?"
Wang Yu didn't hesitate. "Because potioncraft lacks the inherent unpredictability of alchemy. Many alchemists thus believed it should be categorized as a separate, more structured field."
The first question was easy enough.
"Not the most rigorous answer, but passable. Next question. Your turn—name the founding figures of potioncraft."
"Twelve in all," Avia answered promptly. "Calliost, Domarthune..."
"Very well. Now you," she turned back to Wang Yu, "list the individual factions that each of the twelve founders led."
Sweat began to bead on Wang Yu's brow. He could recall the schools... barely. He could name them, yes—but Moira's deepening scrutiny made it clear this was only the beginning.
He was, by nature, a hands-on learner, practical to the extreme. His approach to potion-making was simple: if he didn't know it, he'd look it up, test it himself, and eventually get it right. He studied hard, no question—but theory was never his strong suit.
Especially not compared to Avia. Her mind was a steel trap. She remembered everything.
They'd only been studying herbalism for a year or so—not long enough to build a foundation comparable to, say, the twelve years one would dedicate to academic studies for a university entrance exam. And herbalism required both theory and practice in spades.
Most of Wang Yu's time in Aleisterre had been spent in practical work—brewing with a book open, or pestering Avia for clarification.
Even so, he recited carefully from memory, "Disjunction, conjunction, natural convergence..."
"Too slow," Moira snapped. "Next. From the fourth chapter of General Studies in Herbalism, explain the classification and handling methods of the dragonblood vine."
The questions were getting tougher at a frightening pace.
Wang Yu scratched the back of his head. This one was a stumper. He didn't even remember reading the tome. But it was fine—Avia would have no trouble.
"That plant," she replied with ease, "has no real relation to dragon's blood, despite its name. It reacts differently to various types of blood, and was historically used to test the authenticity of so-called ‘dragon blood' in the market."
"Correct," Moira nodded. "Matches the source, and you even summarized it well. Next. From Combat Applications of Herbalism, summarize the core principles regarding offensive potions."
She turned back to Wang Yu.
"...I'm sorry. I haven't read that one."
Wang Yu was a straightforward man. He'd never read the textbook in question. All he could do was shake his head and admit his ignorance.
"In that case, you're eliminated. You, answer the question."
Moira promptly turned toward Avia.
Eliminated, Wang Yu could only step aside and watch as Avia continued facing Moira's test.
There was no denying it—Avia was, as always, extraordinary. Her breadth of knowledge was absurd. Even though her primary fields were spellcraft and alchemy, she still effortlessly outstripped Wang Yu even in herbalism.
She answered Moira's rapid-fire questions one after another—covering everything from the distinguishing features of various schools of herbalism, to the intricate theories of renowned herbalists, and even delving into obscure magical herbs, their properties, and processing methods.
With her bottomless reservoir of knowledge, Avia was able to respond to nearly every question flawlessly. By the end, it became clear to Wang Yu that Moira was no longer merely testing her. The tone had changed—Moira was probing the depths of Avia's intellect with genuine interest, perhaps even admiration.
At last, Avia was asked an especially obscure question. She shook her head, finally stumped, and the rapid-fire examination came to an end.
"Excellent. You've passed. To possess such scholarship at your age... even I would pale in comparison by far. With a student like you, any teacher would consider herself fortunate."
Moira nodded, the aged lines of her face softening into a rare, appreciative smile.
"Thank you."
Avia dipped her head. Her tact left Moira even more satisfied.
"As for you—my apologies. I cannot teach you."
Turning to Wang Yu, Moira delivered her verdict without emotion, her voice calm and final.
"Come, child. Let me teach you something you won't find in the books."
She beckoned to Avia, who followed her into the treehouse. This next lesson, it seemed, would be conducted privately.
Just before stepping inside, Avia shot Wang Yu a meaningful glance. The two of them shared a tacit understanding—she intended to pass on what she learned to him.
Wang Yu responded with a silent thumbs-up, though he couldn't help but feel a little helpless. How had it come to this? It was supposed to be his attempt to improve as an amateur herbalist. Somehow, the budding alchemist Avia had gotten the opportunity instead.
Granted, the outcome was largely the same—Avia was a fine teacher, and he had no doubt she'd be able to pass on her newfound knowledge. Still, something about it all felt... off.
He sighed. Wang Yu didn't dwell on it too much. Aside from the lingering sense of weirdness, he had no strong complaints. He crouched with his back to the treehouse, resigned to waiting until Moira's first lesson was over. He couldn't very well barge in uninvited.
It was then that Moira's hoarse, sharp-edged voice rang out from the still-open wooden door.
"One last chance for you, lad. I have a long-standing challenge: If you can open this and retrieve what's inside, I'll teach you too. Don't get your hopes up, though—I've been trying for years and never managed it."
She tossed out a black cube from within the treehouse. Wang Yu reacted swiftly, catching it in both hands.
"Good luck."
Clearly, Moira didn't expect him to succeed. Her gesture felt more like a formality than anything else. After flinging the object to him, she shut the door.
Wang Yu examined the item in his hand—a pitch-black block, like some kind of carved monolith. Its cracked surface gleamed with an uncanny smoothness. Except for a few damaged spots, it was flawless to the touch and almost frictionless beneath his fingers.
He turned it over, inspecting it from every angle. Then he applied force—brute strength backed by fighting spirit and finely-honed muscle. The power of an advanced knight surged through him, but the object didn't so much as tremble.
He gave it a gentle shake and heard the sloshing of liquid inside. So it was hollow. Whatever Moira wanted must be sealed within.
Brute force was out. Shifting tactics, Wang Yu activated the power of the Chariot. His body became a source of "radiation," projecting invisible force outward to envelop the stone block. Command, distortion—he attempted to alter the object's nature using his power. It was no use. The Chariot's power could sense the object and exert pressure upon it, but not change it. Its form resisted manipulation.
"It's beyond my level of influence—no, hold on. I can affect it, just barely. I can read some of its properties, too... Antimagic... anti-void... anti-fighting-spirit... and it's resistant to a few forces I can't even identify, too. What the hell is this thing?"
Wang Yu's curiosity flared as he felt the object's uncanny resilience. It lay partially beyond the Chariot's dominion. But perhaps—if he used that...
Drawing in a deep breath, Wang Yu steadied himself. He turned all his focus inward. The extended perception of the Chariot's power began to align with the sensory inputs of his physical body. The two fused—sensation and projection, flesh and force—melded into a singular, focused state.
His Bloodsurge Doppelgänger had divided body and mind. This new development was the inverse: it fused the body and mind together.
An invisible tremor rippled out from him, subtly shaking the world around him. A field bloomed into existence, centered on his very being: Extrasensory Convergence.