Richard felt a dull throb in his temples and nodded.
"Let’s get back to more immediate matters."
She picked up her pencil again.
"From the moment of your signature, to becoming a Practitioner, and then to Minor Mastery..."
She drew several horizontal lines on the white paper, starting from the bottom and moving up.
"With each step up, your signature Marvel will undergo a qualitative change."
"A qualitative change?"
"The essence of a Tier Transition is a fundamental change in the relationship between the Cultivator and the Veil."
She wrote the word "Signature" below the bottommost horizontal line.
"At the time of the signature, the Marvel acknowledges you as its master.
Your microcirculation uses it to issue an Announcement to the other side of the Veil. The Veil becomes aware of your existence, and that’s all."
Her pencil moved up a level.
"As a Practitioner, the Marvel begins to align with your chosen path. We’ve already covered that part."
She moved it up another level.
"The transition to Minor Mastery is the real watershed moment."
Richard’s gaze fell on the tip of her pencil.
"Minor Mastery requires completing the ’First Oath,’" he chimed in.
"You’ve already read *On the Ascent in the Veil*?"
"Yes."
"That book describes the process of the ’First Oath,’ but it doesn’t mention the price."
"And the price is?"
Isabella’s pencil tip paused on the paper for a moment.
"The moment you take the oath, you transfer a part of your soul into your signature Marvel."
A buzz went through Richard’s mind.
He was reminded of the fantasy novels he had read in his past life.
A Litch’s Life Box involved carving out a piece of one’s soul and sealing it within an object.
In this world, every Cultivator who reached Minor Mastery had one tied to them.
"Understand?" Isabella asked.
"I understand." Richard’s voice dropped a notch. "From that moment on, the signature Marvel is no longer just a Marvel."
"Correct."
Isabella reached out, re-summoning the Sheepskin Scroll from before and letting it hover between them.
"This Alexander’s Alchemy Manuscript of mine contains a sliver of my own Spirit."
Her gaze rested on the Sheepskin Scroll for a moment.
"If this book is ever destroyed... spending the rest of my life in bed would be the best-case scenario."
Richard looked at the Sheepskin Scroll hovering in the air.
The suite fell silent for a while.
He now understood why Mr. Hutton had repeatedly stressed that the nurturing process must not be interrupted, and why his aunt had been so cautious when examining the Sphinx Lamp earlier.
Seeing that he remained silent for a long time, Isabella quietly retracted the Sheepskin Scroll.
"That’s enough for today."
She picked up the teapot and refilled their two cups. "If I go on any further, your brain will start to smoke."
"...Yeah."
Richard picked up his teacup.
The tea was already half-cold, and he downed it in one go.
Isabella set the pencil down on the white paper.
"On this trip, besides checking on my sister and your signature Marvel, I can also take care of buying back those Marvels we talked about."
She gestured toward Richard’s schoolbag with her finger.
The Copper Pendant came out first.
The item his cousin Vincent had "gifted" him had been lying in the false bottom of his drawer for months.
Richard, having wrapped the Copper Pendant in wax paper, placed it on the desk.
Isabella unwrapped the paper and took a look.
She didn’t touch the pendant itself.
"This one... I spoke with my father on the phone before I left."
She closed the wax paper. "His opinion is that you don’t need to keep it any longer."
Richard breathed a sigh of relief.
The second item was the Sophie Incense Burner.
Isabella took the Incense Burner in her hand and first scanned it with her Spiritual Vision.
"It’s been modified twice, but the base material is still decent."
The third item was the Sun Seal.
Isabella picked up the Seal and spun it on her fingertip.
"It’s from the colonial regions. No more than two hundred years old, and the craftsmanship is crude."
She took out a separate notebook, estimated the prices, and the final buy-back total surprisingly came to nearly eight pounds.
Richard had originally estimated that he’d be satisfied if he could get five pounds for all three combined.
Isabella looked up at him. "Most of the Marvels in your collection are ’clean,’ so the buy-back price is relatively decent."
"Clean?"
"Their origins are clear, their transaction histories are traceable, and they haven’t been involved in any bloody incidents."
"According to the purchasing channels you mentioned, they came from Donal and a retired Appraiser from the Imperial Capital, respectively. Both are considered fairly legitimate sources."
She continued to explain, "Old Appraisers are wary of those kinds of items themselves. Marvels that come through legitimate channels will have all undergone an initial screening for a ’Class Two’ designation."
"Don’t touch Marvels from illegitimate channels, no matter how cheap they are."
Richard nodded seriously.
"I’ll remember that."
"One more thing..." Isabella added.
"Even with a Marvel from a legitimate channel, if you sense an abnormal Ether Flow after you acquire it, you must dispose of it immediately."
"How do I dispose of it?"
"Throw it into running water, preferably the kind that flows into the sea.
If that’s not possible, find a deserted piece of land that no one ever visits, dig a hole, bury it, and cover it with a layer of salt."
"...Salt?"
"Salt is the simplest way to insulate against Ether," Isabella answered quickly. "It’s an old rule."
Richard recalled his internship on Seals; Mrs. MacNeil had introduced a similar piece of knowledge.
After she finished her instructions, she opened the desk drawer again.
In the very back of the drawer sat a small box.
The box wasn’t large, about the size of his palm, and was tied with a thin ribbon.
"This is a gift I brought for you."
"Go on, open it."
Richard untied the ribbon.
The Points jumped. It was a Marvel.
He opened the box. Inside, it was lined with dark red velvet.
In the center of the velvet rested a glass inkwell.
A line of tiny Latin text was engraved on the side of the bottle:
"Veritas ardua, sed amabilis. (Truth is arduous, but lovely.)"
Richard’s fingers paused on the bottle.
He used his Spiritual Vision to fix on the bottle’s entire silhouette.
The way the Ether flowed inside the bottle was unusual; it had a sort of circulatory pathway, similar to the one inside a human body.
’This bottle has been modified by someone.’
"This is a Marvel modified by an alchemist from the Imperial Capital."
Isabella answered his unspoken thought. "He’s at the Minor Mastery Tier and specializes in making these kinds of auxiliary tools."
"The ink in the bottle will never run out."
She made a gesture over the desk:
"The inkwell automatically siphons a minuscule amount of Ether from the user to replenish its ink supply."
Richard held the bottle in his hands.
’Never-ending ink... the temptation was too great for him.’
’Setting aside the money saved on ink, the convenience alone was incredibly appealing.’
He used his Spiritual Vision to roughly estimate the efficiency of the Ether circulation inside the bottle.
Based on his current Ether reserves, it would siphon no more than one percent of his total supply per day.
’The regeneration speed would be correspondingly slow, just enough for his own use. Any clever ideas about selling the ink are out of the question.’
"Aunt Isabella, is this inkwell extremely expensive?"
Isabella took a sip of her tea.
"It’s alright," she said lightly. "After appraisal, its Ether content isn’t high, so its market price fluctuates between five and ten pounds."
"...Five to ten pounds."
Richard silently did the math in his head.
’Five to ten pounds must only account for the value of the Marvel itself, not its practical effect after being modified.’
’If this inkwell were to be put up for sale at a Marvel market...’
’A knowledgeable Scholar would see the true weight of the "never-ending ink" feature at a glance.’
Isabella could see he was mentally calculating the price.
"Alright, Richard," she said, setting down her teacup. "No need to keep calculating."
"When I had my signature and became a Practitioner, my father gave me a quill pen."
"That pen was a ’Pen Companion’ crafted by an alchemist. It automatically calibrates its angle as you write, made specifically for Scholars."
"...A gift from Grandfather?"
"Mhm." Isabella lifted her cup and took another sip. "He has no use for such things himself."
"For a Scholar, these everyday tools are the most indispensable." She glanced up at Richard.
"A good pen, a good bottle of ink, a good sheet of paper... for someone dedicated to long-term study, I don’t need to elaborate on their value."
Richard placed the inkwell back in the center of the velvet.
"Thank you, Aunt Isabella."
"Don’t be so formal," Isabella said with a wave of her hand. "We’re family."

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