Chapter 49: Generous Rewards

Flint held the pearl up to the luminous moonlight, smiling as he appraised it, "A superb pearl, worth at least three hundred gold ducats. Cece, Jerry, you two are truly generous."

Hearing the pearl was valued at three hundred gold coins, Joan couldn't help but twitch at the corner of his mouth. He carefully slipped the treasure into his pocket. Having received the pearl, he felt his efforts had not been in vain; he was now closer than ever to gathering the tuition he needed.

"Sir Mage, this was prepared especially for you."

Cece opened another, smaller coral box and handed it to Joan.

Inside the box were two volumes of parchment, their yellowed pages exuding an ancient and mysterious aura. After expressing his thanks to Cece, Joan took the books and flipped through them, his eyes shining with a strange light.

The first book was the spellbook he had long coveted. Its previous owner was likely not a particularly renowned wizard; the book contained six low-level spells, including three zero-level cantrips: "Light," "Mend," and "Message." Additionally, it recorded three first-level spells: "Magic Missile," "Shock Grasp," and "Identify."

The second book was even more intriguing—it did not contain spells, but rather a treatise on optimizing spell structures, an "Advanced Metamagic Manual" titled "A Guide to Spell Thrust." This branch of metamagic was dedicated to improving spells that normally required the caster to touch the recipient, extending their range by five feet without increasing their spell level.

Joan had not previously studied touch-based arcane spells, but among the first-level evocations recorded in his newly acquired spellbook, "Shock Grasp" was precisely that sort of spell, allowing the caster to release a jolt of electricity upon touching an enemy, causing electric damage.

Among first-level spells, "Shock Grasp" ranked high in lethality, yet its greatest flaw was the necessity of physical contact with the enemy. If the opponent were a troll or some other monstrous creature, a frail mage attempting close contact would be courting death—he might be knocked flat before even touching his foe.

"Spell Thrust" could compensate for the weaknesses of "Shock Grasp" and similar spells. Though a five-foot range was not particularly long, it provided a measure of safety beyond direct contact.

Joan placed both books in his backpack, feeling an unprecedented sense of exhilaration.

…

Perhaps the world truly operated by the law of "good deeds are rewarded." The gratitude of the sprite siblings had satisfied Joan so much that he forgot there was still a reward awaiting him from Flint Iron Anvil.

The next morning, after bidding farewell to the sprite siblings and returning to Delin Town, Joan eagerly shut himself in to study his new spellbook, until Tom burst in.

"Mr. Vida, my uncle sent me to find you."

Joan looked up from his spellbook, answering impatiently, "I’m busy right now!"

"Then you’d best spare a moment," Tom grinned strangely, "for this concerns a commission worth one hundred gold ducats, as well as a gift even more valuable than the commission."

The word "commission" made Joan's ears perk up. He quietly closed his book and followed Tom to meet Flint.

"Young man, I want to thank you—not merely because you kept your promise, allowing my forge to reopen, but also for the courage, compassion, and sense of responsibility you demonstrated throughout these events. You could have simply used force to drive away the sprites, ignored the plight of those two poor little urchins, and taken your commission from me without trouble. But you did not make such a selfish choice. Instead, you wrote to explain the truth and volunteered to eliminate the water ghoul that threatened our town, helping the wandering sprites reclaim their home."

The old dwarf patted Joan’s shoulder, his eyes full of admiration.

"My child, you are truly worthy of being the grandson of Guillaume Tyrell. Your noble actions have shattered my old prejudices against mages as a group. Your grandfather has every reason to be proud of you."

The old dwarf turned, picked up a jingling purse, and pressed it into Joan's hand.

"Here's your promised reward. Besides that, I have an extra gift for you."

He opened a drawer and took out two books and a scroll.

"I hear you love books? Then these gifts should not disappoint you."

Joan accepted the books and scroll with curiosity. He first unrolled the scroll, which radiated magical energy, and after a quick glance, was delighted to find it contained a first-level arcane spell, "Enchanted Arms." This spell could temporarily turn ordinary weapons or armor into magical items, with the enchantment’s strength increasing alongside the caster's level. Moreover, it played a vital role in the creation of magical weapons and armor—by binding the effect permanently, one could produce magical gear.

Joan then picked up the two books Flint had gifted him, and his surprise instantly soared into ecstasy. The books were "Fundamentals of Enchantment" and "Introduction to Constructs." The first covered basic knowledge for crafting magical items; the second taught, from the ground up, how to build simple mechanical devices and low-level constructs.

Dr. Kelandir had once warned Joan that a mage should not only study magic but also learn to apply it—alchemy and potion-making being important fields for such application. In truth, Kelandir’s advice had not been entirely comprehensive; besides alchemy and potion-making, crafting magical devices and constructs was equally important in the practical use of magic.

Joan had long wished to delve into the fields of enchantment and constructs, but until now had lacked both a teacher and self-study materials. With Flint’s gifts, he now had the texts he needed, and a new possibility occurred to him.

"Mr. Flint, you are the town’s foremost designer and smith of arms. If I encounter difficulties while studying enchantment or constructs, may I seek your guidance?" Joan asked, his voice trembling, his gaze full of hope as he looked at the old dwarf.

Flint Iron Anvil stroked his long beard, and his stern face finally broke into a rare smile.

"I have many students, but they’re either smiths or militiamen, their heads full of muscle. It wouldn’t hurt to take on a clever student for a change. Very well, young man, since you have such ambition, you’re welcome at the forge anytime. The doors here are always open to you."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Flint!"

Joan quickly bowed deeply to the generous old dwarf, hoping to conceal the overwhelming excitement in his heart.