A second-tier initiate, revered as an elder of the Green Mountains by those outside the sect, lived a life vastly different from the common initiates scraping by in crude caves.
Their chambers were no longer damp stone cubbies but well-furnished quarters lined with carved bookshelves, fragrant with herbs and alchemical reagents. They no longer fetched water or tended furnaces for others; now, junior initiates bowed in their presence, eager to curry favor.
More importantly, they had access, true access. Vaults of rare alchemical formulas, aged journals from long-dead masters, annotated scrolls whispering lost techniques.
They were allowed into the lower floors of the Grand Repository, where tiered permissions decided who could read which ancient texts. What a first-tier might glimpse once a year through a cracked door, the second-tier could pore over for days under quiet candlelight.
