As they drew closer to the center of the market, Robb's eyes couldn't stop darting around.
Everything here was a feast of novelty.
A cacophony of strange hawking calls filled the air.
"Fresh magic snake gallbladders! Harvested just this morning, guaranteed!"
"Premium phantom-scale powder! Imported straight from the Faerie Holands!"
"Clearance sale! Failed experintal subjects at half price!"
The market stalls were overflowing with dizzying goods, many of which Robb had only ever seen in books, tiny glowing figures sealed in glass bottles, colored crystals hovering in midair, magical beasts frozen under binding hexes.
A rchant sporting goat horns waved enthusiastically at them. "Care to take a look, sirs? Genuine goblin craftsmanship right here..."
"Ignore him," Arnor murmured. "Everything that guy sells is counterfeit. He specializes in scamming Initiates like us."
Nearby, a snake-woman rchant with a long trailing tail was deftly weighing a color-shifting salamander, her slender forked tongue flicking out as she spoke.
"Sss... This batch cos from the edge of the Deep Abyss. Three tis the potency of the regular stuff. Buy from , I'll give you a discount..."
"Don't get distracted..." Arnor tapped his shoulder. "The priority right now is finding ingredients for the Scorching Essence Oil. Let's keep moving."
As they made their way through the market, sothing in the distance caught Robb's attention.
A middle-aged man in white mage's robes was leading a group of over a dozen apprentices toward the faction's central hall.
"Which mage is that?" Robb asked quietly.
Arnor followed his gaze, a flicker of respect in his eyes. "That's Lord Farlen. A Morning Star Mage, specializes in elental magic. He holds paid consultations several tis a month, answering questions from talented apprentices."
"A Morning Star Mage?" Robb's heart tightened. He was filled with both reverence and dread toward beings of that caliber.
In his understanding, Morning Star Mages held the authority to turn apprentices into experintal subjects. They were terrifying, virtually unassailable existences.
Arnor seed to read his thoughts and smiled slightly. "Don't be so tense. Morning Star Mages do wield frightening power, but most of them don't abuse it. Especially those who choose to serve as ntors, they genuinely enjoy nurturing promising newcors."
"You're saying they won't just grab random apprentices for experints?" Robb found this hard to believe.
"Of course not." Arnor shook his head.
"They only punish apprentices who violate major faction rules, or deal with dangerous targets who've begun to mutate. In fact, if you demonstrate enough talent and potential, they'd be more than happy to offer guidance and support."
Robb felt a shift in his understanding, this was different from what he'd previously assud. "Then why is everyone so afraid..."
"Because the power gap between a Morning Star Mage and an apprentice is simply too vast. It's like the difference between entirely separate species."
Arnor explained seriously. "Even a High Apprentice is as fragile as a child before a Morning Star Mage."
This explanation helped Robb relax sowhat. At least he didn't need to worry that excelling would get him dragged off as a test subject.
Perhaps in this environnt, performing well and following the rules was actually the best path to survival.
"Once we've finished buying materials, if there's ti, you should check the ntor bulletin board."
Arnor suggested. "It lists the areas each mage is willing to ntor in, along with their criteria for selecting students. You're still an Initiate, but it never hurts to learn these things in advance."
"I appreciate that," Robb said sincerely.
Pushing open the herb shop's weathered wooden door, an assault of pungent slls hit them instantly.
The interior was dimly lit. Flas dancing atop bronze candelabras cast the densely packed shelves onto the walls in twisted shadows.
"We need..."
Arnor pulled out his crumpled notebook and began searching for materials against the checklist. "First, red sand grass. Three portions."
He pointed at a glass jar covered in red speckles. "That's the one. Make sure to pick specins with intact root systems."
Robb looked at the overwhelming array of materials on the shelves, hardly knowing where to focus.
"What's this?" Robb pointed at a round container in which clusters of semi-transparent spheres floated, looking like so kind of eggs.
"Moonlight jellyfish egg sacs."
The golden-haired youth answered without looking up. "Used as an ingredient in transparency potions. Way too expensive though, twenty Mana Crystal Fragnts for a single one."
"Over here." Arnor moved to another row of shelves. "Phoenix tail pollen... ah, here it is."
He carefully lifted down a bottle sealed with golden powder. The particles glinted with tiny sparks under the faint light. "This stuff is very delicate. The slightest bit of moisture and it's ruined."
"We also need carbon-breath grass stems..." He continued rummaging. "The one that gives off smoke... right, that one."
Robb watched Arnor navigate the shelves with practiced ease, occasionally stopping to inspect the quality of a particular ingredient.
"This silver-glow mushroom looks a bit old." He frowned as he examined a faintly luminous mushroom. "But it'll have to do."
Placing the last ingredient into the cloth bag, Arnor dusted off his hands. "There. That's everything. These materials should be enough for you to practice preparing several batches..."
At this, he glanced hesitantly at his hip, where his coin pouch was noticeably thinner than when they'd arrived.
Just as the two were about to leave after paying, the shopkeeper's raspy voice suddenly called out. "Wait, you two young custors."
It was a deeply wrinkled old woman. The one eye visible beneath her drooping lids glowed faintly green in the dim candlelight.
"I don't suppose you'd be interested in Potioneering? I happen to be looking for an assistant..."
Robb's interest was piqued, but Arnor was already pulling him toward the exit. "Sorry, we have other matters to attend to."
It wasn't until they were well clear of the shop that Arnor pursed his lips and explained.
"That old hag is notoriously demanding. She's burned through assistant after assistant. The pay she offers is decent, but she refuses to give a single Mana Crystal Fragnt during the trial period. Eventually, nobody was willing to waste their ti anymore."
So that was the story. Sounded like a perfect fit, actually.
"Is that so?" Robb said thoughtfully. "But if she can offer high wages, she must have real skill."
Arnor saw through him imdiately. "Don't tell you're thinking of..."
"I'm planning to go try tomorrow." Robb nodded, then explained his reasoning. "I need a place to practice anyway. Rather than spending a fortune on materials to figure things out alone, I'd rather learn under soone experienced."
"Suit yourself." Arnor sighed. "But I should warn you, that shopkeeper's temper is not pleasant. If you can't et her standards, you probably won't even survive the trial period."
"I understand." Robb allowed himself a small smile. "Which is why I'd appreciate it if you'd accompany tomorrow."
He helped Arnor start packing up the materials. "I'll pop back in later to arrange a ti with her for tomorrow."
Watching Robb's air of quiet confidence, Arnor was suddenly struck by a strange premonition, perhaps this ti, the outco of the application would be different from all the others.
He handed the cloth bag of assorted materials to Robb, a barely perceptible flicker of worry in his eyes.
"These materials should last you for a while," Arnor said, sounding a touch pained, then added. "Rember, every failure is wasted materials."
Robb took the bag and noticed the concern behind the words.
He's probably worried I'll botch the whole thing and demand a refund, Robb thought to himself.
After all, fifty Mana Crystal Fragnts was no small fortune for the Thirteenth Prince in his current circumstances.
Back in the room, the blonde youth wasted no ti and imdiately began instructing Robb on how to prepare the Scorching Essence Oil.
The equipnt was laughably crude, a chipped clay pot serving as a furnace, a few bent iron rods standing in for stirring implents, and even the asuring tools were rough, homade graduated cups.
"Start by chopping the red sand grass roots."
Arnor leaned over to monitor the reaction inside the clay pot while guiding him through each step.
"Right, just like that. Be careful not to discard the root hairs, that's where the richest fire-elent concentration is."
As ingredients were added to the pot one by one, a strange heat current began surging within.
Tiny bubbles burst across the surface of the red liquid, accompanied by faint popping sounds.
"Now add the phoenix-tail pollen..."
Arnor's voice suddenly rose. "Wait! Don't pour it straight in, the reaction will be violent! Sprinkle it in slowly and let it spread evenly across the surface."
Robb followed the instructions with care, watching the golden powder form a perfect ring on the liquid's surface before slowly sinking, sending out ripples of firelight.
The first attempt was completed smoothly under Arnor's guidance. For the second batch, Arnor deliberately stepped back and fell silent, wanting to see Robb's true ability.
To his surprise, Robb's movents were fluid and natural, as though he'd done this a thousand tis before.
Every asurent was precise, every timing impeccable.
Granted, this was leagues away from true Potioneering, but for sothing as relatively straightforward as mixing a body-tempering essence oil, Robb was confident he could handle it.
"Could this kid actually have a talent for Potioneering..."
Arnor murmured to himself. "Back when my father was personally guiding , with far better conditions than this, it still took many attempts before I could..."
Just as the second batch of Scorching Essence Oil was successfully completed, a string of semi-transparent text suddenly appeared before Robb's eyes.
[Brewing completed ×1 ✓]
[Class change conditions fulfilled.
1. Basic Potioneering (Proficient 9/100) ✓
2. Complete one successful brew ✓
Initiate class change to: [Potion Apprentice]?]
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