Capítulo 26: Dairy of a Wizard!
"Which self-respecting person enjoys writing a diary?" Leonard thought with an inward chuckle. But as he flipped through the notebook, his amusement gave way to understanding. Wizards were, by their very nature, solitary creatures. Their work and pursuit of knowledge often isolated them from others, leaving them with few to confide in. Writing, then, became a natural outlet; a way to converse with themselves, to document their thoughts, discoveries, and sometimes, mundane reflections.
He mused further. These diaries rarely contained private secrets; wizards guarded those with their lives. Instead, they were repositories of daily routines, research observations, and traces of the writer's existence. They often hid them away in secret places, only to be discovered under unusual circumstances, such as death or disappearance. For wizards, these records were more than personal accounts, they were legacies, a testament to their existence.
There was a quiet pride in this. Wizards, as extraordinary beings dabbling in the scientific unknown, often placed themselves at the pinnacle of intellectual society. Even if they vanished, their works, experiments, and wisdom would endure, leaving an indelible mark on the path of truth. Leonard, now learning the ways of a wizard himself, found it increasingly easy to understand this mindset.
His gaze drifted back to Alfonso, seated across the room. The man who had guided him onto this path of magic and knowledge, who had pulled him from the mundane life of a powerless commoner. Lost in thought, Leonard let his gaze linger a moment too long.
"Why are you staring at me?" Alfonso asked suddenly, not even looking up from his book. His voice carried its usual calm, authoritative tone, but there was a faint frown on his face.
Startled, Leonard quickly averted his gaze. "I was just… thinking how lucky I am to have met you, teacher," he said earnestly.
Alfonso didn't respond immediately, turning a page instead. Leonard took the silence as permission to continue. "If I hadn't met you, I'd still be just another commoner, struggling to survive under the thumb of the sheriff or some arrogant noble. Even with my talent in magic, there wasn't much I could do against the weight of this world's hierarchy."
It was true. In this society, power wasn't just physical; it was entrenched in class. Nobles ruled with impunity; they needed no justification to take a civilian's life, only a fine to smooth it over. Justice was reserved for their peers, judged by the House of Nobles alone. Wealthy merchants, too, owed their success to noble affiliations. For commoners, advancement was a near-impossible dream.
That's why, after awakening the memories of his past life, Leonard hadn't immediately tried to profit from his knowledge. Six months of observation had taught him that knowledge alone wasn't enough to overcome systemic oppression. He'd persuaded his family to move to Bangor Port, a place rumored to be more progressive, with the hope of finding new opportunities. At the time, he had thought of exploring the wider world, searching for a land where rigid class divisions didn't dictate one's destiny.
But meeting Alfonso had changed everything. The path of a wizard was one he hadn't considered, and though it was fraught with danger and uncertainty, it excited him in ways he couldn't fully explain.
Alfonso finally broke the silence. Without looking up, he said in his usual cryptic tone, "Fate has already marked the price of all gifts. Gratitude is unnecessary."
Leonard smiled faintly. He was used to Alfonso's enigmatic words. They always felt like riddles, laden with meaning just out of reach. "Well, it doesn't matter," he replied. "I'm grateful because I choose to be. Whether you accept it or not is your business."
Alfonso didn't respond, but Leonard thought he saw the faintest flicker of something; approval? in the teacher's otherwise unreadable expression.
Leonard flipped through the notes, his fingers brushing against the worn pages. Each word he deciphered, coupled with the battered dictionary tucked away in the corner of the bookshelf, began to weave a story in his mind. It wasn't a complete picture, more like fragmented pieces of a puzzle, but enough to sketch a faint image.
It told the story of an orphan. This boy, despite his poor circumstances and the cruelty of an uncle and aunt who treated him as little more than a burden, was gifted with the rare talent of a wizardry. By sheer chance, he inherited a wizard's legacy, an event that changed the trajectory of his life.
The boy's personality was resilient and spirited, a mixture of toughness and warmth. Every night, he would sneak into the inherited space to learn the secrets of witchcraft. As he grew older and his skills matured, he left his uncle and aunt behind, stepping into the wider world to find his path.
His journey eventually led him to a fateful meeting with the youngest daughter of an earl. The two fell deeply in love, but societal divisions proved an insurmountable barrier. Their love, though true, was torn apart by their differing statuses. Then war came.
Driven by a desire to obtain a noble title and, with it, the chance to marry his beloved, the young man joined the battlefield. Using his burgeoning alchemical talents, he made a name for himself. His ingenuity became a key element in the kingdom's triumph over its enemies.
When the war ended, the kingdom of Erdoru celebrated its victory, and the king rewarded his heroes generously. But tragedy struck on the way back from the celebration. Ambushed by assassins, the young alchemist barely escaped with his life, using a hidden trump card. Gravely wounded, he fled to an iron mine, where he resolved to gather his strength for revenge.
The notes were heavy with his uncertainty; whether he would live to fulfill his vengeance was unclear. Yet, even in his despair, he left behind something meaningful: an alchemical laboratory, his life's work, and a chance for someone else to carry forward the knowledge that had changed his own destiny.
As Leonard read, he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. The story had a traditional arc, rags to riches, love, loss, revenge. But there were loose ends, questions left unanswered. Did the second wizard ever succeed in his revenge? The notes gave no closure, and Leonard suspected the answer was no. Failure seemed more likely.
Then there was the reference to the two kingdoms involved in the war. One of them, Erdore, was the very kingdom Leonard now lived in. He recalled hearing about a war centuries ago, when Erdore had reclaimed southern lands. That must have been over two hundred years ago, though; surely all those who fought in that war were long dead.
But something nagged at him. If the second wizard had failed to return, his revenge likely never came to fruition. Yet, his work, particularly the iron earthworm described in the notes; must have been witnessed by someone. Perhaps the alchemical creature had been recorded in the collections of nobles or scholars.
His thoughts were interrupted by a soft rustle. Alfonso had approached the desk and was now examining the production drawings of the iron earthworm. His teacher's expression was unreadable, but he gave a slight shake of his head.
"Not bad," Alfonso said in his usual calm tone. "It takes some talent to produce something like this under the conditions described."
He paused, then added, "Though alchemy isn't my specialty, I've studied enough to recognize the principles at play here."
Alfonso placed the drawing back on the desk and clasped his hands behind his back. "Remember this, Leonard: no matter the branch of wizardry, the true key to success lies in focus and refinement. A wizard's work must excel in at least one area, be it lethality, reconnaissance, production efficiency, camouflage, or even cost-effectiveness. A masterpiece always has a defining feature."
He gestured at the diagram. "Mediocrity, on the other hand, has no place in our craft. A mediocre creation is a useless creation, because wizards have the capacity to study and innovate endlessly. Why waste time on something average?"
Leonard set the notes down, giving his full attention to his teacher's words. Alfonso pointed at the diagram again, his voice measured. "The iron earthworm, for instance, has one saving grace: the materials needed for its production are easy to gather."
He tapped the page lightly. "The Yellow Eye Stone. A common mineral with magical properties, particularly an affinity for earth. In the wizarding world, ten kilograms of its powder costs only a single magic stone. This makes it an economical choice. However, the creature itself is unimpressive; more a magical beast than a true monster. It has no innate spells and limited combat capability. Its one notable feature is its ability to burrow through soil, thanks to the Yellow Eye Stone mixed into its structure."
Alfonso straightened, his gaze distant. "It's functional, but uninspired."
Leonard absorbed the lecture in silence, but one word from Alfonso lingered in his mind: 'wizarding world'. Was Alfonso using it as a mere phrase, or did it signify something more specific, a place, a society?
He hesitated, then decided not to ask. Alfonso's answers often led to more questions, and Leonard wasn't sure he was ready for another of his teacher's riddles just yet.
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