However, during this period, Garrett had truly not accumulated any knowledge in the field of shaping spells. The saying goes, "Your eyes can betray you, your ears can betray you, but mathematics won't, mathematics won't lie." Garrett found himself in the same situation now—
No matter how much he knocked his head or shook it, no shaping spell knowledge would come out. Archmage Byerbo raised an eyebrow, squinted, crossed his arms, and looked at Garrett. Garrett could only look up and smile at him:
“Senior Brother~~~”
“Don’t call me Senior Brother!” Archmage Byerbo wished he could knock him a few more times:
“Have you finished your thesis? If it's done, go read your books! Before the main team sets off, hurry up and study. If you encounter any problems that I can’t solve, we can still use the Mage Tower to send a message to our teacher!”
Although sending a message through the Mage Tower consumes a lot of energy, who made little Garrett rich? Those high-level magic beast crystals, mid-level magic beast crystals, just a handful from the box would be enough!
Garrett muttered to himself and obediently went to read. Among the materials given by his senior brother, many were secrets from the Thunder Horn, some even original copies—like the documents written on unknown beast skin, or the yellowed, hardened, and brittle manuscript.
Ordinary mages could at most borrow copies, sometimes not even those, and could only read them on the terminal projected by the Tower Spirit, with some not allowed to be transcribed at all. Yet his senior brother could borrow the originals and bring them all the way here:
It was likely not just his own reputation but perhaps even their teacher’s face that was on the line.
But it was worth it. In high-level mages' notes, there were often mental imprints left unintentionally at the moment of writing. Whether calm, intense, passionate, or fearful—
Experiencing these imprints provided several times, even dozens of times more information than just reading the text alone—
However, such treatment was impossible for an ordinary mage. Even for him, it was best to finish reading these materials as soon as possible and return them to his senior brother to take back with the airship. It would be better for everyone that way.
Otherwise, if these precious documents were lost, both his senior brother and their teacher would be embarrassed.
Garrett buried his head in the documents, studying day and night for two days. On the third night, his senior brother dragged him out:
“Stop reading! We’re leaving tomorrow, check your things and see if there’s anything you need to replenish! Once we leave here, there won’t be another place to buy supplies!”
“I’ve already bought enough supplies... Before leaving Nevis, I bought enough to last for several years...”
Garrett muttered as he was dragged out of the inn. As soon as he stepped out, he saw Cirilla, Lynn, Bernard, and Mr. Baronsimo lined up waiting for him. Cirilla waved at him with a smile:
“Garrett, come quickly! Let’s go shopping! We found a very interesting shop!”
Ah... Alright. They were boarding the airship tomorrow, and it wasn’t very big, having to carry a large group of people and cargo. Garrett took a deep breath and stepped onto the street:
“Sure, let’s go together!”
The street was bustling with people. With a bit of observation, Garrett noticed the purposeful movement of the crowd:
Most were walking along the line between the port and the town center, some hurriedly carrying packages or dragging carts towards the heights outside the town. Looking up slightly, a very conspicuous airship was parked on the flat land at the top of the hill.
“What are they doing? Haven’t they finished resupplying?”
“Of course not.” Archmage Byerbo, with his hands behind his back, walked slowly:
“In addition to supplies, they also need to recruit some people. Especially those willing to open shops in the Kingdom of the Eagle God—or at least do some short-term business. As for the merchants in Nevis, sigh...”
Garrett nodded silently. Merchants rooted in Nevis mostly had their habitual supply channels. On the contrary, these merchants venturing overseas to explore new markets were more familiar with the situation in the New World and more flexible in their business dealings?
He had just started chatting with his senior brother when Cirilla dragged him forward. Although they said they were going shopping, it wasn’t far. Around the small square in the center of the town were the largest shops:
The "Mayflower" Tavern, the largest tavern in town and the only three-story one;
The "Helm and Anchor" Inn, right next to the tavern, with sailors smelling of the sea coming and going, singing loudly;
The "Thousand Miles" Tack Shop, with a fairly large yard behind it, a long row of stables, and a special narrow pen for shoeing and reshoeing horses;
The "Mithril Rose" Inn, where Garrett and his companions were staying. In fact, all spellcasters arriving in Walsingham would be directed to this inn...
And Garrett was pulled by Cirilla into the small street behind the "Mithril Rose." After several twists and turns, they came to a warm residence:
A three-story red brick house with clean walls, surrounded by a rose flower hedge, marking a small courtyard. Although it wasn’t yet early summer, there were already tiny flowers peeking out, pink and white, lively and bustling.
“This is a residence, right? How is it a shop?”
Garrett looked up at the house in the dusk, looking around. Cirilla had already pulled him towards the front. After half a circle, a gust of wind with a fragrant scent hit them, warm and rich, making Garrett’s stomach growl. Cirilla rushed ahead and shouted:
“Uncle Hawthorn! We’re here for dinner!”
“Coming, coming!”
A tall man with black hair and eyes, deeply carved features, and a clean-shaven face, save for a short mustache on his upper lip, quickly walked out of the house. He smiled warmly, opened the low wooden gate in the hedge, and Cirilla eagerly hopped in.
Garrett, however, stopped at the garden gate, looking up at the sign hanging high under the second-floor window:
“Flint and Jasmine...”
“Flint and Jasmine Adventure Supplies Store!” The man who came out to open the door laughed heartily:
“Yes, this is the place! We sell all sorts of adventure supplies, and also run a small restaurant. My wife’s cooking is excellent!”
Cirilla had already brushed past him, rushing inside. In a moment, her cheers echoed from the kitchen:
“Apple pie! Honey-roasted ribs! Red wine beef tongue! Crab cakes! Jasmine, you’re amazing! Oh, these are for you!”
Uncle Hawthorn, Sister Jasmine, where did she learn these terms... Garrett had just wiped his sweat when he heard a series of heavy thuds and unfamiliar exclamations from the kitchen.
Garrett was startled, and the shop owner Uncle Hawthorn’s face changed, rushing into the kitchen in a few strides, slightly limping but faster than Garrett:
“Jasmine! What happened? Ah!”
Garrett followed closely. He saw several large blue-glowing lobsters crawling on the floor in front of Cirilla. She was holding one, proudly showing it to a young woman in her twenties:
“This is the biggest one I caught all afternoon!”
Garrett sighed silently. The lobster’s claws were wider than her shoulders, its body over half a person tall. Its hard shell pointed upwards, wrapped in a chilling aura. Judging by the energy fluctuations, it was at least a level 5 magical beast.
Cirilla, throwing them out like this, can you even cook them...
Without realizing it, he had already said this out loud. Cirilla turned back and glared at him:
“If they can’t, I’ll do it! I can kill them all and then ask Sister Jasmine to cook them!”
Her tone was full of petulance. Garrett smiled as the “Sister Jasmine” calmly wiped her hands on her apron, took out a sharp knife, and took the blue lobster from Cirilla, slapping it onto the cutting board. Tough vines naturally bound the lobster’s claws:
“What’s so hard about cooking these? I just haven’t seen such big blue lobsters in years. They’re hard to catch... Little girl, go browse the store, I’ll have them ready in a while! Are you having all of these?”
“All of them! We’ll eat together!” Cirilla nodded vigorously. Ignoring the proprietress's words about how valuable they were, she whirled out of the kitchen, dragging Garrett along:
“Garrett, look! There are some fun little things here!”
Once out of the kitchen and into the front hall, Garrett took a good look at the entirety of “Flint and Jasmine.” Divided by the main entrance, the first floor was split into two sides:
On the left were several sets of tables and chairs, a row of wooden counters by the window, and a line of high stools. From the setup, it was clearly a small restaurant, able to accommodate twenty to thirty people;
On the right was a long counter filled with adventurers’ usual magic potions and scrolls. But what caught Garrett’s attention was not these, but a small camp at the end of the counter, against the wall.
The camp was circled by pebbles, covered with a fishing net, creating a small, independent space. A tent stood in the center, its leather surface inscribed with runes. A glance showed it had waterproofing, insect repelling, and warmth retention properties;
The tent flap was open,
revealing a fully equipped interior with mats, sleeping bags, and water bottles. Outside the tent were some curious little items:
Light tubes that could emit a stable light or flash when charged;
Heating pillars that could release light and warmth within a certain range;
Portable versions of heating lamps;
And small round containers inscribed with fire-element heating runes...
“Be careful with this!” Garrett was about to reach for one when Mr. Hawthorn stopped him:
“This is a high-pressure heating canister. Don’t open it with nothing inside, it’ll explode!”
“Did you invent all these?” Garrett looked at each item, his eyes shining. Good stuff! With these, they wouldn’t have to do everything by hand when camping outside!
Although doing it themselves wasn’t impossible... but who wouldn’t want to be lazy when they could... It was a pity they couldn’t find them in Nevis, and last time in Walsingham, they left too quickly to shop properly...
“Yes!” Mr. Hawthorn laughed heartily:
“When I was an adventurer in the cold Northlands, I wished for these things! Now, as a shop owner, I’ve managed to create them, hoping to bring convenience to other adventurers! How about it? Interested?”
“Quite ingenious.” Archmage Byerbo took the canister from Garrett, turning it over to examine. He quickly scanned the surroundings and nodded:
“Interested in another adventure? A new, interesting place, providing convenience for new adventurers?”
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