Chapter 23: Way to learn

Geschicht tapped the end of his quill against his chin, eyes flickering toward the window where the city stretched endlessly upward. The ink on his parchment was still wet, his words half-formed, yet he paused, letting the silence of his room settle around him before speaking softly to himself.

"Harriet, you wouldn't believe what kind of place I've found myself in."

He let out a small chuckle, dipping the quill back into the ink and continuing to write.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to a city like this. It doesn't sit on the earth like the places we've known—it floats. Well, parts of it do. It's as if someone shattered a mountain, and instead of falling, the pieces just decided to stay there, hanging in the sky. Bridges stretch between them, some made of stone, others of something I don't even have words for. When the sun hits the upper platforms just right, it looks like it's on fire, burning in shades of gold and red. And below, a lake so still that it looks like a second sky, mirroring everything above it. It's like the world folded in on itself and left this place behind."

Geschicht glanced up from his letter, watching as a floating lantern drifted past his window, the glyphs carved into its glass pulsing faintly with light. He exhaled, amused at how even the most minor things in this city refused to obey the ordinary.

"You'd like it here, I think. The streets are full of scholars and mages, their heads buried in books while walking. I saw someone writing in midair today—just tracing words with their finger, and the ink stayed, burning bright like a constellation of thoughts. Some bells that ring with no metal, waterfalls that never touch the ground. And the air—"

He paused, thinking, before finally writing:

"—It feels heavy, but not in a bad way. Like every breath carries the weight of old knowledge, you can almost hear it hum when you stand still long enough."

Setting his quill down, Geschicht stretched his fingers, leaning back in his chair. The candle on his desk flickered as a breeze from the window rolled in, carrying with it the scent of parchment, ink, and something faintly electric—residual magic, maybe.

"Anyway," he added, scribbling the words quickly, "I think this will be a good place to start. I have no idea what kind of people I'll meet here, but I'm sure it'll be interesting. Maybe you'll tell me about the Champion Association next time we write. I wonder which of us will climb faster?"

He smirked, sealing the letter with a wax press before setting it aside. With a final glance out the window, he rose from his seat, grabbed his coat, and stepped outside.

The door creaked softly as Geschicht stepped out onto the floating stone pathway. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of parchment and the ever-present hum of magic that wove through the city like an unseen current. Above, the sky was painted in hues of morning lilac and soft gold, the triple suns casting an otherworldly glow over the spires and drifting islands.

Just as he stepped forward, a warm voice called out from the side.

"Ah, you're up early, Junge."

He turned to see the elderly keeper of the tower he was staying in. She was small but carried herself with the quiet confidence of someone who had seen far too much to be easily impressed. Her silver hair was tied into a loose braid, and a shawl embroidered with shifting runes draped over her shoulders.

"Good morning, Frau Hildegund," Geschicht greeted with a slight smile, adjusting the collar of his coat. "You're up early, too."

"Pah! At my age, sleeping in is just wasting time," she scoffed, waving a hand dismissively before giving him a scrutinizing look. "And where are you off to this fine morning, hm?"

Geschicht chuckled. "I'm heading to the Association Hall to register my Ident certificate."

She pulled out a small wrapped bundle and pressed it into his hands.

"Here. A little something for the road. Can't have you registering your name on an empty stomach."

He unwrapped the cloth slightly, revealing a fresh honeyed oat roll, still warm from the morning hearth. Geschicht smiled, shaking his head. "You do treat me like your grandson."

"And what of it?" she huffed, patting his shoulder. "Now go before I change my mind and send you to sweep the upper floors instead."

Laughing, Geschicht gave her a grateful nod before stepping onto the gently glowing pathway leading toward the city's heart.

The warmth of the honeyed oat roll melted against Geschicht's tongue as he took a bite, its sweetness mingling with the crisp morning air. The streets of the floating city stretched before him, humming with quiet energy. The softly glowing pathway beneath his feet pulsed with a steady rhythm, guiding him toward the towering structure in the distance—the Sage Association Hall.

The city was alive but not chaotic. Magic coursed through its veins, woven into the cobblestone streets and the suspended bridges linking the floating platforms. He passed by robed scholars engaged in hushed discussions every few steps, scribes hurriedly scrawling notes onto parchment mid-stride, and artificers adjusting delicate mechanisms powered by runes.

A group of apprentices clustered near a hovering fountain, its waters spiraling upward in slow, deliberate patterns before cascading back into the basin. They attempted to manipulate the flow—some with success, others causing stray droplets to splash onto their robes.

Geschicht smiled as he strolled past, absentmindedly nibbling on his roll. He could already imagine the endless possibilities within the association's halls. Somewhere inside those towering spires, knowledge beyond his comprehension awaited, hidden within shelves lined with ancient tomes and whispered between those who had spent decades unraveling the world's mysteries.

Ahead, a bridge made of pure light connected his platform to the next, arching over a vast expanse of open air. Below, the city's lower districts shimmered like a dream, their golden rooftops reflecting the soft pink hues of the sky. Geschicht stepped onto the bridge, feeling a slight shift beneath his feet as if the light adjusted to his presence.

He exhaled, savoring the sweetness lingering on his tongue.

"Let's see what the world has in store," he murmured, picking up his pace toward the Sage Association Hall.

Geschicht pushed open the grand doors of the Sage Association Hall, stepping into a space filled with scholars' murmurs and the faint scratching of quills against parchment. The air smelled of old paper, ink, and the faint trace of magic lingering in the high-arched ceiling.

Ahead, a long marble counter stretched across the hall, where several clerks and receptionists assisted those coming and going. He approached an open spot where a woman in dark blue robes adjusted a monocle over her sharp eyes, swiftly flipping through a thick registry book.

She glanced up as he reached the counter. "Name?"

"Geschicht Snow," he answered, brushing crumbs from his sleeve.

She hummed, tracing a gloved finger down the parchment. "Ah, here we are. You submitted your paperwork three days ago, correct?"

"That's right. I just wanted to check if everything is in order."

The receptionist nodded and turned to a small, rune-inscribed device on the counter. She placed her hand over it, and a faint hum resonated through the air as a thin, glowing thread of light extended from the device, weaving through the book's pages.

After a few seconds, the glow dimmed, and she withdrew her hand. "All good. You're officially recognized as a member of the Ident Order."

With a flick of her wrist, she retrieved a small, rectangular card from a drawer and placed it on the counter before sliding it toward him. The card was simple but refined, crafted from polished silverwood with faintly glowing letters etched into its surface.

Geschicht Snow

Grade 5 Ident

Geschicht picked it up, running his thumb over the engraved letters. There it was—proof of his first step into something more significant.

"However," the receptionist continued, adjusting her monocle, "if you intend to work within this section of the Sage Association, you must find a mentor. We do not permit self-study for active members below Grade 4."

"A mentor, huh?" He turned the card between his fingers, letting the light catch against the silverwood. "Any recommendations?"

The woman's expression remained neutral. "You may seek one out yourself or apply for evaluation to be assigned to a teacher. But I suggest you choose quickly—unattached lower grades often fall behind."

Geschicht exhaled through his nose, slipping the card into his coat pocket. "Got it. Thanks."

The receptionist gave a curt nod before turning her attention to the next person in line, leaving Geschicht standing there with the weight of his new title resting in his palm.

A teacher, huh? He hadn't exactly thought about that. But if he wanted to make it further, he supposed he'd have to.

With that in mind, he turned on his heel and strode back toward the doors, stepping out into the floating city.

As Geschicht stepped out of the Association Hall, he barely had time to take another bite of his honeyed oat roll before a voice cut through the soft hum of the city streets.

"Are you the one Jelle wrote the recommendation letter for?"

He turned, blinking at the woman standing before him. She was tall, her frame lean yet undeniably powerful, with a presence that seemed both fluid and unshakable. Her skin had a smooth, almost polished sheen to it, catching the dim glow of the city's floating lanterns like the surface of water under moonlight. Light blue hair, layered and swept back like cresting waves, framed her sharp features. But what stood out the most were her ears—long and fin-like, translucent at the edges, flickering ever so slightly as if attuned to the currents of the air around her.

And then, there were her eyes—deep, abyssal, holding the silent patience of a hunter lurking in the depths. They were the kind of eyes that had seen distant horizons and uncharted seas, that studied rather than simply looked. There was an intelligence in them, sharp as a blade, tempered like steel left to cool beneath cold waters.

Geschicht swallowed the bite he'd been chewing, brushing a few crumbs off his coat. "That depends. Who's asking?"

Her expression didn't change, though there was a brief flicker in her eyes—perhaps amusement? Annoyance? It was hard to tell.

"You're avoiding the question."

"No, I'm just making sure I'm not about to get dragged into something unexpected."

She exhaled, something between a sigh and a quiet chuckle. "Fair enough. Let's start over, then." She placed a hand on her chest in a formal yet fluid gesture. "Zarysha Tidescar. Sage Association, Section Five."

"Geschicht Snow." He mirrored the gesture, though far less elegantly. "And yes, Jelle did write me a recommendation."

Zarysha nodded, crossing her arms. "Then you're in need of a mentor." It wasn't a question.

"That's what I've been told."

For a moment, she seemed to study him, as if weighing something in her mind. Then, with a slight tilt of her head, she spoke. "Come with me. Let's see if you're worth the trouble."

And with that, she turned, expecting him to follow.

Zarysha took a few steps forward, expecting Geschicht to follow, but when she glanced back over her shoulder, he was still standing there, taking another bite of his honeyed oat roll.

She blinked. "Why aren't you coming with me?"

Geschicht chewed slowly, swallowed, then replied with a casual shrug. "Because my father always said not to follow strangers."

There was a brief silence. Then Zarysha let out a short laugh—sharp, like the flick of a blade through water. "Strangers?" She gestured to herself. "I just introduced myself."

Geschicht tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Right, but my father also said that just knowing a name doesn't mean you know a person. You could be leading me into a trap, or worse—" He paused for dramatic effect. "A long lecture."

Zarysha raised an eyebrow, then smirked. "You think too much."

"And you don't think enough about how sketchy this looks."

She sighed, placing a hand on her hip. "Fine. How about this—I promise not to lead you into any traps or long lectures. Just a short one."

Geschicht squinted at her. "Half a lecture?"

"Half a lecture."

He gave a dramatic sigh before finally stepping forward. "Alright, alright. But if I regret this, I'm blaming Jelle."

Zarysha chuckled as she turned back toward the street. "That's fair."

Zarysha led Geschicht through the bustling streets of the magical city, weaving between towering buildings and lively shops, their path lined with street lamps that flickered with an enchanted glow. The air buzzed with the hum of magic, and above them, the sky was a canvas of drifting islands, some no larger than a house, while others held entire structures upon them.

Their destination soon became clear—a grand tower resting atop a floating cloud. It loomed high above the streets, its elegant spires disappearing into the mist surrounding it. The cloud itself pulsed faintly with magic, shifting ever so slightly as if breathing. Around its base, smaller buildings and shops clung to the floating mass, their foundations tethered by thick chains of woven light, preventing them from drifting apart.

Geschicht tilted his head, watching as a platform of solid air extended toward them, forming a bridge to the tower's entrance. "A floating tower, huh? Fancy."

Zarysha smirked. "Convenient, too. Less risk of unexpected visitors."

They stepped onto the bridge, their footsteps making no sound against the cloud-like surface. The entrance of the tower was wide and open, flanked by banners embroidered with sigils of the Sage Association. 

Zarysha didn't pause, leading him up a spiral staircase lined with softly glowing runes, each step bringing them higher into the tower's depths. They eventually arrived at a broad, circular chamber—an inquiry hall rather than a lecture room. Rows of seats curved around a central podium where a speaker, an elderly scholar with an intricate wooden staff, addressed a gathered audience.

The speaker's voice was steady, carrying wisdom with every word. "A true scholar does not only seek answers—they seek the right questions. Consider this: what shapes the foundation of our knowledge? Is it truth, or merely what we choose to believe as truth?"

Geschicht leaned slightly toward Zarysha. "Huh. I was expecting something about books and study schedules."

Zarysha chuckled quietly. "Different towers focus on different things. This one values the art of questioning. You'll find halls that study ancient scripts, others that experiment with theory, and even some that just argue about philosophy all day."

Geschicht nodded, taking in the atmosphere. The room was alive with thought—scholars murmuring amongst themselves, some scribbling notes, others lost in contemplation. "So, anyone can just walk into places like this?"

Zarysha nodded. "Newcomers are welcome in towers registered with the association. If you ever need to check, just ask someone at the Association Hall. Most towers are open to learning, but some keep their doors shut unless you're invited in."

Geschicht folded his arms, tilting his head. "So, what you're saying is, if I just start knocking on random towers, I might get inside or I might get hexed?"

She smirked. "Exactly. You'll figure out which is which pretty quick."

Zarysha reached into the folds of her coat, pulling out a smooth, rectangular card and flipping it toward Geschicht with a casual flick of her wrist. The card gleamed faintly in the ambient light, inscribed with flowing script and an official seal of the Ident Order.

Zarysha Tidescar

Ident Grade 3 – Sage Association, Section 5

"Oh, right. Almost forgot to show you this," she said, smirking. "I'm an official Grade 3 Ident. Figured you should know, since you'll be learning under me."

Geschicht took the card and examined it, tapping his fingers against its smooth surface. "Grade 3, huh?" He whistled. "That's pretty high. Should I be honored or worried?"

Zarysha shrugged. "Depends on how fast you learn."

He handed the card back, crossing his arms. "And here I am, fresh out of the registration hall with my Grade 5 card, barely knowing what to do with it. Guess I'll be at your mercy, then?"

Zarysha grinned. "Pretty much."

Geschicht sighed dramatically. "Great. My fate is in the hands of a woman who forgets how to introduce herself until halfway through a conversation. Surely, this will end well."

As they walked through the tower halls, Zarysha glanced at Geschicht. "So, what exactly are you hoping to learn here?"

Geschicht crossed his arms, thinking. "Knowledge, obviously. History, lost stories, things that were forgotten. If I'm going to make a name for myself, I need to know more than what's written in dusty old books."

Zarysha smirked. "A broad answer, but I'll allow it." She gestured for him to follow as she led him out of the tower and into the bustling streets. They weaved through market stalls and quiet alleyways until they reached a lush, green hill on the outskirts of the city. The wind carried the scent of wildflowers, and the sky stretched vast and unbroken above them.

She stopped at the crest of the hill and turned to him. "Let me ask you something, Junge. What does it mean to 'learn'?"

Geschicht blinked, caught off guard by the question. "What kind of question is that? Learning is… well, it's gaining knowledge. Picking up new information. Understanding things."

Zarysha nodded but tapped her chin, as if unsatisfied. "And if someone memorizes an entire book, have they truly 'learned' from it?"

Geschicht frowned. "I mean, they'd know what's inside, so—"

"Knowing is not learning," she interrupted. "In some places, the word for 'learn' means to practice, to experience, to struggle with something until it becomes part of you." She folded her arms, her abyssal-dark eyes holding his gaze. "It's not just stuffing facts in your head. It's about changing yourself. If what you learn doesn't shape you, have you really learned it?"

Geschicht stood silent for a moment, watching the clouds drift across the sky. Then, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Great. First, you forget how to introduce yourself, and now you make my head hurt with philosophy. Are you sure you're not a Magician instead of a Sage?"

Zarysha chuckled. "Consider this your first lesson, Junge. If you really want to learn something, be ready for more than just answers."

Geschicht exhaled, rubbing the back of his head. The wind picked up, rustling the grass around them. "Alright, alright. I get it. Learning isn't just about knowing—it's about changing. Happy?"

Zarysha gave a small, satisfied nod. "It's a start."

They stood there for a moment, the city stretching out before them. The floating towers, the winding streets, the distant hum of people moving about their lives—it all felt larger now, heavier with the realization that there was far more to grasp than just words on a page.

Geschicht tilted his head. "So, what's next? You gonna throw me into the deep end, or do I get a proper introduction to this place first?"

Zarysha smirked. "I'd say you're already in the deep end, Junge." She turned and began walking back toward the city, her voice carrying over her shoulder. "Try not to drown."

With a sigh—half exasperation, half amusement—Geschicht followed. The path ahead was uncertain, but that was part of the journey.

And he was ready to learn.