Chapter 3: On the Matter of Truth

The year is 1266 in this world that Argus currently inhibits. He doesn't know much about the history of this world, as well as the politics, the systems, how it is ruled, as a peasant like the village elder could know so much. One thing's for sure though, this world is grim, with the common folk most of the time trying to survive, either by the wildlife and its monsters and beasts, or by the ways that their lords could abuse and extort them.

With meticulous record-keeping, he has chronicled his insights into this realm. Nevertheless, his inquisitiveness gravitates toward the paramount enigma he hungers to unravel: the source of his spellcasting prowess in a realm devoid of the Weave's embrace.

Contemplation yielded no clear path to investigation, leaving him with one uncertain solution. Despite poring over his library, his pursuit of a more assured approach remained fruitless. Even as piles of tomes congregated on his desk, the answer eluded him.

Thus, he resigned himself to circumstance, rising from his seat. Grasping his component pouch, he strode into the vacant expanse of the library, gazing upon the frigid stone floor.

"I certainly hope this works…" he whispered to himself. "Else, a squander of powdered diamonds it shall be..."

Then, he started to work. From his pouch, he procured a measure of clear sand and powdered diamonds, meticulously fashioning intricate patterns upon the floor. Within these formations, circles interwoven, each unique unto itself. Hours waned as he methodically arranged the components, finally achieving his design.

Now comes the longest part, to carve those powdered diamonds to Glyphs that could contain prepared spells that he could activate. Argus took out his kit from his bag of holding, crouched down towards the floor, and started to work.

Each etched circle exacted an hour's labor, a total of seven demanding completion. Though familiar with such protracted and strenuous processes as a seasoned wizard, this endeavor bore a weighty distinction. Rarefied resources were at play, and success held no certainty. Hour after hour elapsed, as stone yielded to his carving and diamonds found their place. Nearly six hours on, he drew close to his goal, though not quite...

Beyond the windows, where an amber radiance once graced the sky, darkness now reigned. Feeble torchlight provided solace in the gloom, the villagers' sole source of guidance.

Before his handiwork stood Argus—a profusion of meticulously arranged circles converging into a central glyph. Each surrounding circle bore minor incantations: [Light], [Hologram], [Detect Magic], [Major Image], among others. Yet, the central circle remained devoid of inscription, its purpose yet unfilled.

Drawn to a nearby shelf, Argus perused an array of spell scrolls. One by one, he examined them, until discovery arrived. Unfurling a particular scroll, his gaze alighted upon the encapsulated spell: [Lay of the Land]. This incantation projected the surrounding terrain into the caster's mind, a gift meant for druids, rangers, or bards by virtue of Mystra's Ban. These practitioners drew magic from nature's wellspring or channeled it through their natural charisma—attributes alien to the wizard's repertoire.

In this unfamiliar realm, where Mystra's Ban held no sway, Argus posited that this restriction may crumble. In a bygone era, spellcasting knew fewer bounds, contingent upon fortitude, intellect, and resources. Such principles, he believed, persisted in this enigmatic realm.

Taking a deep breath, he returned to the circle, meticulously carving the spell scroll's contents onto the vacant glyph. An hour's labor yielded completion, glyphs now poised for invocation. The scroll in his grasp ignited—a promising omen. Stepping away, he murmured to himself, "To fortune's embrace, then..." With a snap of his fingers, the Glyphs activated in unison.

Luminance enveloped the encompassing glyphs. [Light], [Hologram], and their kin assumed form, weaving intricate imagery. Meanwhile, [Detect Magic] conveyed a singular directive to the central glyph—[Lay of the Land] would unveil naught but magic.

Initial strain manifested at the glyphs' edges, argent flames flickering—a vexing harbinger of experiment's failure. But then, as swiftly as it emerged, the tension abated. Brilliant projection materialized—a formless visage, an answer lying just ahead.

In front of him, dots of ethereal blue light shimmered, weaving an enigmatic tapestry. It resembled Temeria's map, much as he remembered it from the old man's recollections. Yet, a mystical overlay, like invisible rivers coursing through the land, added an otherworldly dimension. Some areas gleamed more brightly than others, while singular dots outshone even specific locations.

"Huh... It worked," Argus remarked, his voice filled with disbelief. "This is... enlightening."

Argus traversed the projection, scrutinizing each overlapping dot on the map. His perplexity deepened as he delved further into the arcane spectacle.

In Faerûn, every wizard beheld The Weave through a unique lens. To most, it was a 'fabric' enabling them to channel magic. It was vital to distinguish that The Weave itself was not magic but rather the force by which magic could be harnessed. However, this projection before him shows that these veins are magical incarnate.

The visible veins contained a kind of magic that Argus could only describe as wild yet tamed. It wasn't raw; everything from chairs to stones had raw magic within them. Still, these veins held magic that could be manipulated. Normally, such energy was considered wild in Faerûn, challenging to control and master. True, the fact that it could be detected by [Detect Magic] provided concrete evidence of its wild nature, but within the chaos, there was an order.

This chaotic yet calm magic concentrated at 'intersections' of the veins, where its presence was most potent. It seemed the denizens of this world had also recognized this phenomenon, constructing buildings atop these 'intersections.' What purpose did these structures serve? Argus yearned to uncover more.

Swiftly, he sketched a map based on the projection, one he could reference until the glyph spells dissipated. He captured the map, its depicted locations, the magic veins, and the 'intersections' where this ordered chaos gathered.

Another curiosity piqued his interest. Beyond these veins and 'intersections,' a solitary dot shone brighter than any vein he beheld. Unlike the stationary veins, this dot moved slowly, as if imbued with life. What could it be? A creature composed of pure, controllable magic? If so, what manner of creature was it? Could it possibly be a human?

He took note of this anomaly on the map he was crafting. Due to its mobile nature, he couldn't precisely render it on the map, but he could trace its path. In doing so, he noticed that the dot seemed to be journeying toward a specific location—the nearest 'intersection'.

It was a fascinating discovery. Why? Why was it headed there? Could it be a rogue magical anomaly drawn to other magical veins after all? And not a living thing? A multitude of questions swirled in Argus's mind, yet he continued to draw and draw. Finally, the glyphs expired, and the projection vanished.

Placing the newly created map on the desk, he examined every inch of it. To unravel the mysteries of these magical veins from which he suspected he unconsciously drew power for his spells, he needed to embark on a journey to these 'intersections'—to study their properties, characteristics, and elements.

"Travel, eh..." Argus sighed. "It's been quite some time since I became a Journeyman."

As the nocturnal shadows enveloped the tower, Argus decided to conclude his study for now. He rolled the map and stowed it in his bag of holding before retiring to his chamber, bidding farewell to the day.