6 Chapter 6: The Pursuit of Knowledge Never Stops for a Wizard

As Argus's sight was restored, the panorama before him underwent a profound transformation. No longer within the confines of his tower's chambers, he found himself standing amidst an empty road of dirt, crowning the crest of a hill. The aroma of the wilderness greeted his senses—ranging from the invigorating fragrance of grass and trees to the potent hint of creatures' droppings. These scents were rare to him, for his existence as a wizard predominantly involved sequestering himself in his library or employing teleportation to the urban center of Waterdeep for material procurement.

Surveying his surroundings, Argus beheld the distant cityscape, along with a procession of carriages winding its way toward the city gates. Yet, his objective did not lie to enter the city itself. He unfurled the map, casting his gaze upon the marker denoting the presumed city location, before charting an eastern course from Ellander.

—

The path stretches ahead, a rugged and desolate trail. From the perspective of Argus, this route appears rather mundane, falling short of the usual 'fun' activities such as studying that he's accustomed to. Devoid of any companions to engage in conversation and lacking captivating sights to behold, the journey seems to consist mainly of monotonous trekking. While he could contemplate an initial visit to the nearby city, with the intention of securing transportation, the sight of the queues of men and women striving to gain entry dissuades him from this plan. The rationale behind this plethora of people seeking entrance piques his curiosity. Initially, he assumed these individuals were merely linked to the transport of trade commodities destined for the city's merchants or the utilization of the city's docks for shipping purposes. However, his observant gaze notes that the individuals managing the carriages are ordinary folk, adorned in tattered attire and carrying meager supplies. Could this be attributed to the grip of famine, or might there be an underlying cause?

As his gaze shifts to the sky above, hues of orange begin to grace the heavens. The approach of evening dawns on Argus, leading him to acknowledge that embarking on this expedition during the late afternoon was perhaps not the wisest decision. Time appears insufficient to reach his intended destination within the same day, leaving him to grapple with the prospect of spending another night amidst the wilderness or opting for a teleportation return to the tower.

However, his immediate intent centers on pressing forward until darkness envelops the realm, or until a point of intrigue emerges along the path.

—

As the sun's farewell glow dips below the horizon, our protagonist finds himself having reached his destination sooner than expected. Not too far in the distance, a structure crowns a hill, enveloped by an imposing forest. A sight to behold from a distance, this edifice boasts stony architecture reminiscent of his homeland, yet distinct in its own right. Temples and holy sanctums usually fail to captivate him, but this one, at the very least, exudes an aura of mild comfort.

With deliberate steps, he draws nearer to the temple, ascending the stairs that lead him straight to its heart. Along the way, his gaze falls upon figures in the distance – predominantly women garbed in robes – ferrying baskets laden with... what could they be? Bandages, perhaps? Or medicines? The answer eludes him from this vantage point.

At last, he traverses the temple's threshold, his surroundings a canvas of the mundane. Priestesses bustle by, positioning torches to illuminate the path ahead. Ignoring him for the most part, their demeanor suggests that strangers arriving at the temple are an ordinary occurrence. Unfazed, Argus presses on, guided by an edifice that appears to be the central chamber.

Gently swinging the door ajar, he enters, finding no resistance. His steps echo through a space sparsely adorned, dominated by an immense statue depicting three women. Positioned at the room's core, it emanates a peculiar emptiness. The goddess of this realm's devotion, the three feminine forms distinguish themselves: one a vision of elegance, another embodying motherly warmth, and the last reminiscent of a hag.

He feels… strange. Argus closed his eyes, this is definitely the 'intersection' that he had discovered. While he couldn't feel the magic around him, he could feel that he could cast stronger spells here, as if he was in a wild magic zone, but unlike a wild magic zone, he could control it without worry, again, a strange feeling.

But then, a different awareness dawns upon him—the Weave. It's faint, but undoubtedly the Weave. How could it exist in this foreign realm? How is it possible for him to perceive the Weave in this unfamiliar world?

His thoughts were broken when he could hear someone enter the room behind. He turned, and he saw an old woman. The woman had a stern smile on her face, no doubt a senior priestess of this place.

"May I be of assistance to you?" she inquired serenely, her measured steps resonating through the hushed expanse as she advanced toward the figure known as Argus.

"Ah, do not concern yourself with my presence. I was merely engaged in the act of admiring this magnificent statue," responded Argus, his lips curving into a fragile smile as he turned his attention back to the statue that had 'captivated' his interest. "This, I presume, is the deity revered by the denizens of this realm?"

"Indeed," affirmed the woman with a nod that carried the weight of certainty. "The entirety of the northern realms pays homage to the Goddess Melitele. To us, she embodies the roles of mother and nurturer."

"Ah, I see," Argus mused audibly. "A benevolent deity deserving of reverence."

"And you're not from around here, I assume?" the woman asked.

"No." Argus shook his head. "I've come from… far away from here."

"And what faith accompanies you, young traveler?" she pursued.

"Faith?" echoed Argus, momentarily reiterating her query. "While my compatriots might undoubtedly extend their devotion to a deity different from your Melitele, I refrain from designating myself a follower of the same god, despite my mentor being among her chosen."

"So you are faithless, then?"

"In a manner of speaking," articulated Argus. "I do not prostrate before any gods or goddesses, yet there exists one entity that I deeply admire."

"And which deity garners your admiration?" she inquired.

"A scribe," responded Argus succinctly.

"A scribe?" the woman echoed, her brow furrowing in intrigue.

"Yes," affirmed Argus, unwavering in his response. "An enigmatic... scribe..." His voice cleared as his gaze swiveled back to the woman. "But enough of theological discourse. I am Argus Moonfall of Waterdeep. I have come here in pursuit of knowledge. It is my hope that you would be amenable to granting me shelter within these walls for a time, to observe the practices of your temple's priestesses and, perhaps, peruse the volumes of your library, should you possess one."

"We do have a library, young man." the woman nodded. "I am Nenneke, the head of this temple. You're welcome to stay here anytime."

"Your generosity is deeply appreciated," expressed Argus. "Allow me to reassure you that I shall make use of my own provisions and refrain from meddling in affairs unrelated to my purpose. My intent is simply to glean knowledge, naught more and naught less."

Nenneke raised her brow. "You are a strange one, with the way you speak and act…" she said. "But Melitele accepts anyone in her temple, strangers or not. Be welcome if you ever run out of supplies."

After that, the old woman left the room, leaving Argus alone in this quiet chamber to state at the statue all night.