Serena woke before dawn, restless. She'd tossed and turned all night, replaying her conversation with Leon. His confidence had shaken her—what if the fountain pen really was a game-changer? She pulled on her cloak and stepped outside, wanting fresh air to clear her head.
The valley was quiet, mist clinging to the grass. She spotted Leon in the clearing, moving slowly, his arms flowing in smooth, rhythmic motions. It looked like a dance—soft, deliberate, nothing like the brute strength of knight training or the sharp gestures of spellcasting.
"What are you doing?" she called, walking over.
"Tai Chi," Leon said, not pausing. "A mage's exercise—strengthens the body and aligns mana."
"Mages exercise?" Serena laughed. "I've only seen them drink potions for strength. There's a体质-enhancing draught that makes you stronger—even… other parts," she added, giggling.
Leon rolled his eyes. At twelve, he was too young to appreciate the innuendo. He finished the form, planting his feet firmly, and pushed his palms forward with a soft grunt. A faint gust of wind stirred, carrying mist away from the clearing—not just air, but mana, swirling from his hands.
Serena's smile faded. "That's… mana. You're channeling it through Tai Chi?"
Leon nodded, surprised she'd noticed. "It enhances elemental affinity and magic resistance. Master Im says it's like top-tier alchemical potions, but free."
She stared at him, reevaluating everything. A child who invented revolutionary pens, cooked like a master, channeled mana through a "dance," and negotiated like a seasoned merchant—this wasn't just a prodigy. This was a threat to her guild's lowball offer.
After breakfast, Serena found Leon in the workshop, cleaning his high-temperature furnace. "Let's be honest. Your pen is clever, but engraving runes is the expensive part. We'll need master enchanters, precious metals, gemstones—our costs will be high. 300 gold is fair for the patent."
Leon leaned against the furnace. "Do you sell quills? What's your top price?"
"Our most expensive is the Scented Quill—made from griffon feathers, enchanted to make writing smell like jasmine for months. 100 gold each," Serena said. "But griffons are rare, and only two feathers per wing are usable. We barely break even."
"100 gold for a feather that breaks," Leon said. "And you want to buy my pen—unbreakable, rune-compatible, no sharpening—for 300 gold? That's three griffon quills, and my pen will last a lifetime."
Serena crossed her arms. "What about our best-selling black swan quills? Only a few silver coins."
"Mass-produced, disposable," Leon said. "My pen can be mass-produced too—cheaper than griffon quills, better than swan feathers. And for mages? You can charge 100 gold for a rune-enchanted version. How many mages are there in the empire? Thousands. Even 10% of them buying one pen would make you rich."
He walked to a workbench, picking up a fountain pen prototype. "Do you know how much a top-tier scroll pen costs? I don't either—but I know mages pay fortunes for tools that save time. My pen lets them write faster, more neatly, with fewer mistakes."
Serena's resolve wavered. "We don't have connections to sell to mages. Our guild sells to nobles, not spellcasters."
"Then expand," Leon said. "Partner with me. Start a sub-guild under Valoka—focus on mage tools. We'll make two versions: a luxury rune-enchanted pen for nobles and mages, and a basic metal pen for commoners. You handle production, distribution, and enchanters. I provide the patent, oversee quality, and help design rune-compatible nibs."
Serena blinked. "A partnership? You're a child—you can't run a guild."
"I'm the inventor," Leon said. "Master Im can act as my legal representative. And I know the market. You're stuck in luxury goods, but mage tools are untapped. The pen is just the start—I have other ideas." He thought of glass beakers, precise scales, even a magic-powered printing press—all Earth inventions that would revolutionize mage life.
"What about the patent fee?" Serena asked, cautious.
"5% of sales for the basic pen, 10% for the enchanted version," Leon said. "No upfront payment. You invest in production, I invest in the invention. We both profit."
Serena's mind raced. It was a risky proposal—expanding into unproven territory, partnering with a child—but the potential was enormous. If the pen succeeded, Valoka could dominate the mage tool market. And Leon's confidence made her believe he had more inventions up his sleeve.
"I can't decide this," she admitted. "I need to send word to the guild master in Wickham City. But… I'll recommend it. Your terms are fair—if the numbers add up."
Leon nodded. "Take all the time you need. But don't lowball me again. The pen's worth more than 300 gold—it's worth a share of the future."
As Serena walked back to her guest room, she realized Leon had taken control of the negotiation from the start. He'd never begged for a higher price—he'd educated her, showed her the value, and offered a partnership that benefited both sides. For a twelve-year-old, he was terrifyingly competent.
Leon returned to the workshop, grinning. He'd stood his ground, and Serena was considering his proposal. It was a small victory, but it felt like a step toward honoring Eldrin's legacy—using knowledge to build something lasting.
He picked up the fountain pen, turning it over in his hand. It wasn't just a tool—it was a bridge between Earth and Etho, between his past life and his new one. With a little luck, it would be the first of many inventions to change this world.
Outside, the mist lifted, revealing the sun shining over Linden Pine Valley. Leon took a deep breath, feeling mana hum in sync with his heartbeat—Tai Chi's magic, gentle but powerful. Whatever the future held, he was ready.