The market square transformed into a buzzing hive of speculation and excitement.
Merchants quickly adapted their displays, pulling out banners and trinkets from previous championships.
A fabric seller unfurled brilliant silk streamers in guild colors, while a weaponsmith polished his enchanted blades with renewed vigor.
Noble houses clustered in small groups, their enchanted jewelry glinting as they whispered among themselves.
In contrast, the working class viewed the announcement through a more practical lens. Street vendors immediately began marking up their prices, anticipating the flood of visitors.
A group of tavern workers discussed the extra shifts they'd need to cover.
— Seven kingdoms worth of nobles, all trying to outspend each other — A baker grinned, already calculating how many extra loaves he'd need.
The magical community's reaction proved the most intense. Apprentice mages huddled together, their expressions a mix of awe and ambition.
Several guild members in silver robes debated the merits of different magical disciplines for the competition.
— The Celestian Court will dominate again — A young mage gestured toward the elven delegation. — They've won three times in the past decade.
The clamor of the market square faded as Aslam turned down a narrow cobblestone path leading to the herbalist district.
Sweet-scented smoke drifted from brass censers hanging outside shop doorways, carrying hints of lavender and sage.
Compared to the market's frenetic energy, this area maintained a studied quiet. The buildings here showed their age in weathered wooden signs and ivy-covered stone walls.
Glass windows displayed dried herbs in neat bundles, their magical properties evident in subtle glows and shifting colors.
A splash of vibrant purple caught his eye - nightshade essence suspended in crystal vials. In his previous life, he'd taught students to extract its properties without the toxic effects.
The technique seemed lost now, given the crude separation methods visible through the shop windows.
Outside one store, rows of potted moonflowers stretched their silver petals toward the setting sun. Their mana signatures pulsed gently, far weaker than the varieties he'd once cultivated.
"The breeding lines have diminished," Aslam thought, examining a particularly wan specimen. "These barely hold enough power for basic healing drafts."
A weathered copper bell chimed as Aslam pushed open a heavy oak door. The shop's interior defied its modest exterior - shelves stretched toward vaulted ceilings, filled with curiosities that sparked recognition of ancient healing arts.
Behind a counter of polished mahogany, Madam Eleonora's silver hair caught the light from enchanted crystals. Her wrinkled hands moved with precision as she measured dried herbs.
— Ah, a new face. Or perhaps an old soul? — Her keen eyes studied him with unexpected depth.
Aslam browsed the shelves, selecting essential supplies: bandages woven with healing runes, purification salts, and preservation bags that would keep herbs fresh for weeks.
A gleaming apparatus on the counter caught his attention - a brass and crystal device that extracted essence from herbs with remarkable efficiency.
— Fascinating. This combines alchemical principles with mechanical innovation — Aslam examined the intricate gears.
Madam Eleonora beamed. — The Essence Extractor. Pulls twice the potency from half the herbs. Even works on dried specimens.
— And these markings... — Aslam traced the etched runes. — They stabilize the volatile compounds.
— You have a keen eye for artifice — She adjusted a crystal dial. — Most healers resist new methods, clinging to traditional mortars and pestles.
Their discussion shifted to the upcoming Championship's impact. Eleonora described how healing supplies would become scarce as visiting mages stockpiled resources.
— The Artificers' Guild already claimed most of my crystal stock — She gestured to empty display cases. — And the hospitals are demanding double their usual orders.
A comfortable silence fell as she wrapped his purchases in brown paper tied with twine. Through the shop window
Aslam gathered his wrapped purchases, the paper crinkling against the enchanted preservation bags. His fingers traced the edge of a healing rune, noting its simplified design compared to the intricate patterns he once taught.
Madam Eleonora pulled out a drawer beneath the counter, revealing neatly arranged specimens in glass containers.
— These moonshade petals arrived yesterday — She held up a jar filled with iridescent blue flowers. — But their potency seems weak.
Aslam examined the delicate petals. — The stems were cut at the wrong phase. See these silver striations? They should be harvested when the marks reach the flower's center.
Her eyes widened. — Fascinating. The suppliers never mentioned timing patterns.
She retrieved more samples - crystallized sunroot, dried windbloom, and raw manastone powder. Each sparked a discussion of forgotten techniques.
Madam Eleonora moved to a back shelf, revealing a collection housed in an ornate glass cabinet.
— My pride and joy — She unlocked the case with a brass key. — Each piece tells a story of magical evolution.
Inside, artifacts spanning centuries demonstrated humanity's growing understanding of herbal magic. Crystal vials contained preserved specimens, their labels marking significant breakthroughs in extraction methods.
Aslam's eyes lingered on a particular device - a combination of ancient runic circles and modern mechanical precision.
— The Resonance Amplifier — She lifted the copper and crystal instrument. — It harmonizes with the natural frequencies of plants, drawing out their essence without damage.
The craftsmanship impressed him. While different from the pure mana manipulation he once taught, this merger of technology and magic showed remarkable innovation.
— The crystal matrix here — She pointed to an intricate lattice structure. — It stabilizes volatile compounds that would normally degrade within hours.
Aslam nodded, genuinely appreciating how modern ingenuity had compensated for diminished magical power.
— And this section... — She indicated a series of fine copper coils. — It maintains a constant temperature field, preventing crystallization during the extraction process.
Each piece in her collection represented a step forward in magical understanding. Though the raw power might have diminished over the centuries, human creativity had found new paths to similar ends.
— Your knowledge are remarkable
— Thank you for sharing them.
Eleonora smiled, clearly pleased by his genuine interest. — The door is always open to those who appreciate the old ways and the new.
Aslam bowed slightly and departed, the shop's copper bell chiming softly behind him.
The evening air carried a chill as Aslam navigated through Eldria's winding streets. Gas lamps flickered to life, their enchanted flames casting long shadows across the cobblestones.
He passed several upscale establishments, their marble facades and gilded signs advertising luxuries beyond a typical traveler's means. These places would draw too much attention - attention he couldn't afford while inhabiting Kaelus's body.
A modest three-story building caught his eye. The Wanderer's Rest stood at the corner of two quieter streets, its weathered wooden sign depicting a crescent moon. Warm light spilled from its windows, and the sound of quiet conversation drifted from within.
The interior welcomed him with the scent of pine and fresh bread. Dark wooden beams crossed the ceiling, worn smooth by time. A few travelers occupied the tables, focused on their meals or conversations rather than newcomers.
Behind a polished counter, a middle-aged woman with graying hair tied in a neat bun counted coins.
— Room for the night? — She looked up, her practiced eye taking in his travel-worn appearance.
— Yes, please — Aslam placed several silver coins on the counter.
— Second floor, third door on the right — She handed him a simple iron key. — Breakfast starts at sunrise. Bath house is through that door if you need it.
Aslam climbed the creaking wooden stairs, his footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. The second floor stretched before him, lit by enchanted crystals that cast a soft, warm glow.
Worn carpets muffled his steps as he counted the doors. The brass number "3" on the third door had dulled with age. The iron key turned smoothly in the lock.
The room proved simple but clean. A narrow bed with fresh linens occupied one corner, while a small desk and chair sat beneath a window overlooking the gas-lit street. A basin and pitcher rested on a weathered dresser, the ceramic decorated with faded blue patterns.
Aslam set his purchases on the desk, arranging the wrapped packages from Madam Eleonora's shop with care. The preservation bags hummed faintly with contained magic.
He moved to the window, drawing the cotton curtains closed. The fabric carried the scent of lavender - a common ward against minor pests and magical interference.
After that he goes to bed and creaked softly as he sat down, testing its firmness. After centuries sealed in darkness, even this modest accommodation felt like luxury.
then tested the bed's firmness. The mattress, stuffed with fresh straw and topped with wool batting, would serve well enough.
"Tomorrow requires careful planning," he thought, organizing his schedule. "The Blackthorn workshop first - Cassandra's invitation might reveal more about current magical innovations."
The merchant's warning about disappeared mages lingered in his mind. While his centuries of experience would help him handle any threats, his current power level demanded caution.
"After that, the guild mission." The recovery of magical relics would provide an excellent opportunity to gauge how artifacts had evolved over the millennium.
Aslam lay back on the bed, his borrowed body's muscles relaxing into the simple comfort. The weight of centuries pressed against his thoughts, but exhaustion won over contemplation.
Through the thin walls, muffled conversations and footsteps created a gentle backdrop of life - so different from the absolute silence of his imprisonment. A cat's soft footfalls crossed the roof tiles above, while somewhere below, dishes clinked as the innkeeper prepared for tomorrow's breakfast.