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Chapter 12: The Druid's Curiosity
POV: Adam
Mousesack's study occupied the highest tower of Cintra Castle like a scholar's fever dream made manifest. Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling, their leather bindings bearing titles in languages Adam couldn't identify. Dried herbs hung from the rafters in bundles that filled the air with scents of earth and growing things, while glass bottles containing unidentifiable substances glowed with their own inner light.
This is what magic looks like when it's been studied instead of stumbled into.
"Sit, Adam. We should talk about your... unique gifts."
The druid's voice carried the careful neutrality of someone who'd learned not to reveal conclusions before gathering all available evidence. Mousesack himself looked exactly like the wise mentor archetype—flowing robes, knowing eyes, and an aura of patient wisdom that came from decades of watching kingdoms rise and fall.
Cautious but cooperative. Don't reveal too much, but don't lie if I can avoid it.
Adam settled into the wooden chair across from Mousesack's desk, noting how the druid's attention focused on him with scientific intensity. This wasn't social conversation—this was magical interrogation disguised as friendly inquiry.
"Your magic isn't Chaos-based. I've confirmed this through observation."
The statement hit the air like a challenge, precise and pointed enough to demand response. Adam had been expecting this conversation since the throne room audience, but hearing it stated so directly still made his pulse quicken.
How much does he know? How much can I safely admit?
"So I've heard," Adam replied, keeping his voice carefully neutral.
"Then what is it? Where does it come from?"
The question carried weight beyond casual curiosity. In a world where magic was understood through specific theoretical frameworks, Adam's abilities apparently violated fundamental principles that Mousesack had spent his lifetime studying.
Truth, but not the whole truth. Never the whole truth.
"I don't know," Adam said, and meant it. "It's just... part of me. Like breathing. I don't understand how it works any more than I understand how my heart beats or my lungs take in air."
Mousesack's expression shifted from suspicion to fascination, the look of a scholar who'd discovered something unprecedented and potentially revolutionary.
"Remarkable. Most magic requires conscious manipulation of Chaos forces—drawing power from the intersection between Order and entropy. But your abilities seem to bypass that entirely."
The conversation that followed revealed depths of magical theory that Adam had never considered. Mousesack spoke of magic as a scientific discipline with rules and limitations, a force that could be studied and understood through careful observation and experimentation.
He's not suspicious anymore. He's intrigued. That's... actually more dangerous.
"I propose a trade," Mousesack said eventually, leaning forward with the intensity of someone making a significant offer. "I teach you about this world's monsters, magic, and dangers. You show me how your abilities work."
Knowledge for demonstration. Fair exchange, and I need the information more than I need secrecy.
"What's the catch?" Adam asked, because in his experience, offers that seemed too good to be true usually were.
"No catch. I'm a scholar. Your magic is unprecedented. I want to understand it. And you need knowledge to survive."
The honesty in Mousesack's voice was convincing, but Adam had learned to be careful about trusting people whose motives aligned too conveniently with his needs.
Pragmatic choice. The information is worth the risk.
"Agreed," Adam said. "But I want to understand the dangers we're discussing. What exactly am I preparing to survive?"
[RELATIONSHIP ESTABLISHED: Mousesack]
Status: Mentor (Cautious)
Points: 25/100
Note: Knowledge exchange initiated
Mousesack's smile carried satisfaction and anticipation in equal measure. He pulled a thick tome from the shelf behind his desk, its pages filled with detailed illustrations that made Adam's stomach clench with recognition.
Bestiary. Finally going to learn about the things that want to kill me.
"Wraiths," Mousesack began, opening to a page that showed a spectral figure wreathed in chains and shadow. "Spirits of the dead bound to this world by powerful emotions—usually rage, grief, or unfinished business. They're incorporeal, which means normal weapons pass through them harmlessly."
"How do you kill something you can't touch?" Adam asked, studying the illustration with professional interest.
"Silver disrupts their spectral form. Moonsilver is even better, if you can afford it. They're also tied to specific emotions or locations. Resolve the source of their binding, and they'll move on peacefully."
Note to self: buy silver weapons. And learn to be a therapist for dead people.
"Werewolves," Mousesack continued, turning to a page that showed a massive humanoid figure covered in fur and equipped with claws like curved daggers. "Cursed humans who transform during the full moon. They retain human intelligence but lose human restraint. Fire stops their regeneration, and they're vulnerable to silver like most cursed creatures."
The tracks I found in the forest. Could have been a werewolf.
"Leshens," Mousesack said, reaching the section that made Adam's blood run cold. The illustration showed a creature that seemed to be made of wood and shadow, with antlers that branched like dead trees and eyes that held malevolent intelligence.
"Forest guardians corrupted by dark magic. They control the animals and plants in their territory, making entire forests into hunting grounds. Extremely dangerous. Destroying their totems weakens them, but killing a leshen usually requires a full witcher or a well-equipped military unit."
File under 'things to avoid at all costs.'
The lesson continued for another hour, covering creatures that ranged from merely dangerous to apocalyptically lethal. Adam absorbed the information with desperate focus, understanding that each fact might mean the difference between life and death when he encountered these things in the wild.
Knowledge is a weapon. Maybe the most important weapon.
"Now," Mousesack said, closing the bestiary with careful reverence. "Your turn. Show me this wind magic of yours."
Adam stood and moved to the center of the study, feeling the familiar warmth build in his chest as power responded to his will. Wind Barrier was his newest technique—visible force that surrounded him in protective energy.
Simple demonstration. Nothing that reveals too much about capabilities.
The barrier manifested as visible distortion that made the air around Adam shimmer like heat waves. Mousesack watched with the intensity of someone observing a scientific experiment, his eyes tracking the magic's effects with professional fascination.
"Extraordinary," the druid murmured, moving around Adam to observe the barrier from different angles. "It's as if you're negotiating with the air itself, not commanding it through Chaos manipulation."
That's... actually a good description.
"The elements want to move," Adam said, trying to put the sensation into words. "I just convince them which direction."
"Remarkable. No wonder your magic feels different. You're not imposing your will on natural forces—you're working with them."
The analysis felt accurate in ways that Adam hadn't expected. His airbending did feel more like cooperation than domination, as if the air was a willing partner rather than a tool to be commanded.
Maybe that's why it works. Maybe that's why the System chose this power.
"War is coming, Adam."
Mousesack's voice had shifted from scholarly curiosity to grave warning, the tone of someone delivering news that couldn't be ignored or dismissed.
"Nilfgaard mobilizes. Their armies gather strength while we squabble over politics and protocol. Cintra will burn."
He knows. Maybe not the timeline, but he knows what's coming.
"I know," Adam said, then realized his mistake a heartbeat too late. "I mean, everyone's talking about it. The refugees, the merchants, the soldiers—"
Mousesack's eyes sharpened with attention that made Adam's skin crawl with sudden fear.
"You know more than you say. We'll discuss that later."
Shit. How much did I reveal? How much does he suspect?
The promise hung between them like a sword waiting to fall, but Mousesack's expression had already shifted back to scholarly neutrality.
Later. Not now, but later. I need to be more careful.
"Seventeen days," Mousesack said quietly, as if reading the number from some internal calendar that counted down to catastrophe. "Perhaps less. When it comes, knowledge will keep you alive longer than strength."
Seventeen days until Nilfgaard arrived. Seventeen days to get strong enough to save her. To save them all, if he could.
The study's windows showed evening darkness settling over Cintra like a promise of things to come. Somewhere in that darkness, armies gathered strength while a kingdom prepared for war it didn't understand it was already losing.
Mousesack's warning echoed: Cintra will burn. He'd seen it in the show. He'd seen Ciri's face when she lost everything.
Not this time. This time, he'd be ready.
But as Adam left the tower study with his head full of monster lore and magical theory, he couldn't shake the feeling that Mousesack's knowing gaze had seen more than comfortable.
Knowledge is a weapon. But some knowledge cuts both ways.
Seventeen days until the world burned. Time to see how much stronger he could get before the flames arrived.