Reincarnation of Nikola Tesla in another world-Chapter 7: Owl eyed bureaucrat.

I ventured out in search of arcane knowledge, asking discreetly amongst the market vendors, my inquiries leading me to a small, unassuming shop tucked away in a quieter side street, a hand-painted sign above the door creaking gently in the breeze: "Eldrune's Emporium."

The shop was narrow and dimly lit, there were shelves crammed with dusty tomes, there were strange-smelling herbs in glass jars. The air had a subtly aroma to it. Behind a counter, a man with a grey beard and spectacles anchored on his nose was polishing a tarnished candlestick holder. He looked up as I entered, a wide, welcoming smile spreading across his face.

"Welcome to Eldrune's! Come in, come in! Don't be shy!" He bustled forward, wiping his hands on his apron, his enthusiasm almost comically disproportionate to the humble size of his shop and the lack of other customers.

"Eldrune himself, at your service! And what esoteric curiosity might I assist you with today? A rare grimoire? A potent potion ingredient? Perhaps a self-stirring cauldron for the discerning alchemist?" He gestured around the shop.

"As you can see, it's not exactly...overcrowded today. Which means," he leaned in, lowering his voice to a stage whisper, "I can give you my undivided attention. And, naturally, the most... personalized service."

I observed the shopkeeper, Eldrune, noting his eagerness, his slightly exaggerated welcome, desperation beneath the forced cheerfulness.

"I seek... knowledge,"

"Specifically, knowledge pertaining to... magic. if available."

Eldrune's eyes lit up behind his spectacles. " Excellent choice, young sir, excellent! A most... dynamic field of study! Though perhaps," he lowered his voice again, glancing around the empty shop as if expecting eavesdroppers, "a tad...uncommon in these parts. Still! Knowledge is knowledge! And Eldrune's Emporium prides itself on catering to... pursuits!"

He gestured towards a section of shelves crammed with rolled scrolls. "Scrolls, scrolls! The wisdom of ages, captured in convenient, portable form! Scrolls are excellent for... immediate application. Complex incantations, potent spells, ready to unleash at a moment's notice! Though," he added with a slight frown, tapping a finger against his chin, "they are, alas,... temporary. One use, and they... dissipate. And, of course, they require a certain... large amount of wealth to acquire."

He then gestured towards another, dustier section, filled with bound books. "Books, on the other hand! Ah, books are the true foundation of... knowledge! Within these pages lie the secrets of everything, the patient accumulation of magical understanding! Books require... dedication, diligence, study! But the knowledge gained... becomes yours. Permanent!"

I considered the scrolls and the books, my mind weighing the immediate gratification of temporary power of the scrolls that provide against the long-term investment of true understanding. "Books," I decided

. "Books on... fundamental principles. And... practical applications. Suitable for... newby practitioners."

Eldrune rubbing his hands together with delight. "Excellent, excellent! A wise choice, young sir! Foundation first, then... pyrotechnics later! Allow me to present... 'Sparkling Starters: Electric Tricks for Budding Thaumaturges'!"

He produced a slim, brightly illustrated volume from a lower shelf. "A charming introduction to electric manipulation for... younger learners! Teaches basic sparks, static cling enchantments, minor illumination spells... all perfectly safe, naturally, when practiced with... reasonable caution."

He winked again. "And the author, a certain Mr. Xiang, is quite renowned in... certain circles."

I examined the book, noting the clear diagrams, the simple instructions, the engaging tone. It seemed... elementary, but precisely what I needed. "And for... foundational theory?" I inquired.

Eldrune, delighted once again. "Ah, for foundational theory, you require... 'Arcane Axioms: A Primer of Elemental Principles'!"

He produced a thicker, more imposing tome, its cover bound in worn leather, pages yellowed with age, a bit chewed by rats. "A classic, young sir! A bible of magical education! Explains the fundamental forces, the flow of mana, the... synergistic interactions between the elements! Essential reading for any aspiring mage!"

I was carefully calculating the cost of the two books, not money but the amount of dedication it would cost me. Eldrune, sensing a sale, offered a MOST GENEROUS DISCOUNT, but even with the reduction, the total consumed almost all of my earnings, leaving me with only three Bronze Bits in my pocket. I paid without hesitation. Knowledge, I knew, was the most valuable investment I could make.

Eldrune, wrapped the books in brown paper, handing them over with a big smile. "An excellent choice, young sir! And allow me to offer a small... complimentary piece of advice, from an old man to a... promising novice."

He leaned in "Pyrotechnic magic, you see... has a certain... likeness for volatile substances. Especially in... less-than pristine environments. Sewers, dung heaps, stagnant pools... avoid practicing your... sparkling starters near such locations. Unpleasant incidents have been known to occur. Explosions."

My eyes widened with the kindness he was offering, although i knew it from common sense but the shopkeeper explaining it to a kid without any monetary benefit, sounded good.

"Indeed," I replied with a smile. "Thank you, Master Eldrune. Your... complimentary advice is... most appreciated."

I tucked the books under my arm and departed, my mind was already racing with the possibilities contained within the worn pages.

Meanwhile, in Vixen, Aldric was walking into the afternoon sun, sore, hungry, and thoroughly charred. The orchard owner had released him with a stern warning, depositing him at the edge of town. As he limped through the streets, his stomach growling, a voice called him from behind.

"Oi, you! Orphan-boy! You lookin' for work?"

Aldric turned to see an old man with a weathered face and a placard tucked under his arm, surrounded by a small group of equally rough-looking individuals. "Work?" Aldric asked, his throat dry.

"Aye, work! Is your voice loud enough, eh? Can you shout?" the old man demanded, eyeing Aldric appraisingly.

"Shout?" Aldric repeated, confused.

"Slogans, boy! Slogans! Against the Merchant's Guild, the thieving dogs! Against Tariff Act! Ruin'n honest folk, they are!" He thrust the placard into Aldric's hands. "Learn these words, shout 'em loud, get two copper and a hot meal tonight. Deal?"

Desperate for food and a temporary purpose, Aldric nodded. He spent the afternoon hoarsely shouting slogans against merchant tariffs, his body aching, but the promised coins and the aroma of roasting stew he imagined kept him going.

As dusk settled, the old man led his small band of protesters to a rough tavern, paying for a communal stew. Aldric, hungry, ate with a speed that shyed away his earlier hesitation. behind them he saw in a small pottery bowl, filled with a golden preserve, being enjoyed by a woman at a nearby table. The aroma... was Intriguing.

"What's that?" Aldric mumbled, nudging the old man beside him.

The old man glanced at the bowl. "That? Fancy fruit mush. Marmalade, they call it. Some young lad's selling it in Bersley market. Doing right well for himself, they say."

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"Bersley?" Aldric repeated, his heart quickening. "What... what lad?"

"Dunno his name," the old man shrugged, digging into his stew. "Owl-eyed kid, they say. cheeky one. Bureaucratic, some say, even at that age! But makes a damn fine fruit mush, I'll give him that."

Aldric's mind raced. "Owl-eyed... cheeky..." Could it be...?

He approached the woman who was still savoring the marmalade. "Excuse me, ma'am? That... that marmalade you're eating... the boy who sells it... do you know... anything about him?"

The woman looked up, wiping her mouth with a napkin, her expression softening as she took in Aldric's weary face. "Just that he's a clever lad from Bersley market," she replied kindly. "Makes the best marmalade I've ever tasted. He does have rather... striking eyes. Like a little owl, come to think of it."

Bersley. Owl-eyed. Marmalade. Hope surged through Aldric's weary body. Kim. It had to be Kim. He wasn't lost. He wasn't in danger. He was... in Bersley. Just two hours away from here.

Suddenly, the aching muscles, the humiliation of his lockup ordeal, seemed to fade into insignificance. He devoured the rest of his stew, his hunger now replaced by a different kind of craving – the yearning to see Kim again. Hope had been rekindled. And Aldric, for the first time that day, felt a glimmer of... joy.