The Legendary Method Actor

The first week of life at Solhaven Academy was a masterclass in the fine art of being poor. The fifty Academic Marks that had been credited to Ray’s Scholar’s Medallion, a sum that had seemed abstractly generous at first, had evaporated with terrifying speed. Forty-five were gone instantly, paid for the privilege of a term’s rent on their spartan room in the forgotten, ivy-covered Cormorant Hall.

The remaining five Marks were their entire world. Rina, in her new, unofficial role as House Croft’s budget officer, managed their meager funds with a fierce, anxious precision. A single loaf of bread from the dining hall cost half a Mark. A bowl of watery stew was a full Mark. Every meal was a negotiation, every expense logged with a pained expression on her face. She would often insist Ray take her portion, a gesture of loyalty that twisted his gut with guilt.

”We will run out of Marks in three days,”

She said one evening, her voice a low, worried whisper as she reviewed their finances.

”What will we do then, Ray?”

He didn’t have an answer. His nights were still a grueling crucible of self-improvement, his body slowly, painfully mending itself. His days were a whirlwind of lectures where he had to deliberately restrain his own intellect to avoid drawing even more unwanted attention. He was a king in the classroom but a pauper in the dining hall. The irony was not lost on him. His grand deception had bought his family’s freedom, but it had left him and his most loyal friend on the verge of starvation in a city of strangers. The situation was untenable.

”The orientation…”

Ray said, his mind sifting through the data.

”They mentioned one way to earn marks, The Commission Board.”

”A notice board for students?”

Rina asked, her brow furrowed.

”What sort of task could a eleven-year-old boy possibly do for these people?”

”I don’t know,”

Ray admitted.

”But we have to find out.”

The next day, they made their way to the Student Union, a grand, bustling building that served as the social heart of the academy. In the center of its main hall stood the Commission Board. It was a massive slab of dark, polished wood, magically enchanted so that pieces of parchment would adhere to its surface without the need for tacks or nails. It was covered in a chaotic flurry of handwritten requests, a microcosm of the academy’s vibrant internal economy. Ray stood before it, using his Ambient Presence to analyze the data. The Gritty Detective’s eye scanned the scene, categorizing the people and the power dynamics.

“It’s a marketplace for desperation,”

The Detective noted.

“The big, dumb ones from Valor are looking for sparring partners to beat on.”

“The Arcanum kids want rare alchemical ingredients they’re too scared to fetch themselves.”

“The Statecraft nobles are offering a few measly marks for someone to copy their lecture notes, it’s a food chain.”

Rina, her own Survival Instincts on high alert, stayed close to Ray, her eyes darting nervously through the crowd of older, more confident students. She could feel the subtle currents of arrogance, ambition, and desperation swirling around the board. Ray scanned the commissions, his Eccentric Scholar persona processing the text at high speed. Most of them were, as the Detective had noted, useless to him.

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”Seeking Skilled Alchemist to identify an unknown residue.”

“Reward: 50 Marks.”

He lacked the practical lab skills.

”Sparring Partner Needed.”

“Must be proficient in the Valorian high guard. 10 Marks per hour.”

He would be a living practice dummy.

”Cartography Assistant wanted for expedition into the Sunken Fen.”

“Knowledge of warding spells required, generous compensation.”

Too dangerous and required skills he didn’t possess. He was beginning to despair. There was nothing here for a physically weak, magically inept boy, no matter how intelligent he was. He was a master of deception and psychological warfare in a world that paid for brute force and flashy spells. Then he saw it. Tucked away in a corner of the board, a piece of elegant parchment, its handwriting sharp and precise, all but ignored by the other students.

“Commission: Translation & Analysis.”

“A series of fragmented texts from a newly discovered pre-Unification ruin have proven… resistant to conventional linguistic analysis.”

“The script is unknown, the syntax is illogical, the subject matter is esoteric, any scholar capable of providing a coherent translation of even a single fragment will be rewarded handsomely.”

“See Master Elias of the College of Statecraft for details.”

“Reward: 100 Marks per verified fragment.”

A hundred Marks. The sum was staggering. It would be enough to feed them for months, to enroll him in the classes he needed. But the commission had clearly been on the board for some time, judging by the slight curl of the parchment’s edges.

“No one has taken it,”

Eliza Vance said, appearing suddenly at his side. She followed his gaze to the notice.

“Oh, that. Master Elias’s Folly. He’s a brilliant historian, but a bit of an eccentric.”

“He found those fragments on a personal expedition last summer and has been obsessed with them ever since.”

“Half the senior scholars in our college have tried to crack them.”

“They say it’s not a real language. Just meaningless patterns.”

Ray looked at the notice again.

“Script unknown, syntax illogical.”

A slow, excited smile, one he couldn’t suppress, began to spread across his face. It was a look of pure, unadulterated academic hunger. It was the look of the Eccentric Scholar finding an unsolvable puzzle. He didn’t know the languages of Aethelgard beyond the Common tongue the system translated for him. But Alex Chen, the actor from Earth, had played roles that required him to learn the basics of a dozen different things. He had played a cryptographer in a spy thriller. He had played a linguist deciphering ancient texts in a fantasy adventure. Those roles had skills attached. And his system was a master of finding patterns where others saw only chaos.

“Rina,”

He said, his voice imbued with a newfound, confident energy.

“We are going to see Master Elias.”

Eliza stared at him.

“Ray, are you serious?”

“I told you, it’s impossible, it’s a waste of time.”

“The impossible,”

Ray replied, his eyes gleaming with a light that made Eliza take an involuntary step back,

“is just a problem you haven’t looked at from the right angle yet.”

He walked away, Rina scurrying to keep up, leaving a bewildered Eliza Vance in his wake. Finding Master Elias’s office took them to the upper floors of the Statecraft college, a quiet, sun-drenched area filled with private studies and lecture rooms. They found the door and knocked. A reedy voice called for them to enter. The study was like an epitome chaos. Books were stacked on every available surface, maps were pinned to the walls, and scraps of parchment covered the floor like fallen leaves.

In the center of it all sat a man who looked like he had been assembled from mismatched parts. Master Elias was old, with a wild mane of white hair that stood on end, spectacles perched on top of other spectacles on his forehead, and robes that were covered in ink stains and what looked suspiciously like dried soup. He was the very picture of the Eccentric Scholar archetype. He looked up at their entrance, his eyes blinking owlishly.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Master Elias,”

Ray said, stepping forward and bowing politely.

“My name is Ray Croft, I am here for your commission.”

Elias squinted at him.

“My commission, the fragments?

“Bah, a waste of time for you, boy, the finest minds in this college have been broken by these texts.”

“What makes you think a first-year initiate can succeed where they have failed?”

Ray met his gaze, his expression calm.

“Because…”

He said, letting the Scholar’s absolute confidence leak into his voice,

“they are trying to read a language, and they are wrong.”

He pointed a small finger at a piece of parchment on Elias’s desk, which was covered in the strange, alien script.

“That isn’t a language, it’s a substitution cipher, and a remarkably simple one at that.”

The old scholar froze, his soup-stained robes seeming to bristle with a sudden, intense energy. He stared at Ray, his mouth hanging open, for a full ten seconds. Then, he leaped to his feet with a speed that defied his age.

“Prove it,”

He hissed, his eyes blazing with a wild, fanatical light. The game was afoot.