Robb wasn't surprised when he heard the news.
Among the group from his hometown, Talisa had the poorest background but the best mental aptitude.
He still remembered the first time he saw that frail girl—her long brown hair casually tied with a piece of twine, her clothes patched in several places.
According to the well-informed Andrey, she was just the daughter of a humble hunter from the mountains.
A white-robed wizard had discovered her from some remote valley and found, astonishingly, that she had third-circle mental aptitude.
The "star rating" system was a standard developed by wizards to evaluate mental aptitude, ranging from first-circle (the highest) to sixth-circle (the lowest).
Robb was rated sixth-circle, just barely passing the qualification threshold. Andre was slightly better, a fifth-circle.
The gap between each class was 2.5 times the previous—cumulatively multiplicative. So a first-circle was a hundred times stronger than a sixth-circle.
Third-circle was considered the dividing line between mediocre and genius—those with it were believed likely to become full-fledged wizards, as long as they didn't die prematurely.
As for sixth-circle… it was hard enough just to become a senior apprentice. Better than a commoner, perhaps, but still not worth much—barely more than a cabbage, he joked to himself.
While Robb mocked his own situation internally, he added a rare black nettle leaf into a cup and poured hot water from his thermos for Andre.
"Well, well—look at you, being all generous today."
Andrey studied the ceramic cup placed in front of him. Through the rising steam, tiny black particles could be seen floating in the tea.
"These days, even a sip of black nettle tea is a luxury."
His calloused fingers gently rubbed the rim of the cup, a faint, knowing smile on his face.
"Never thought the young lord of House Reyne would treat a guest with something this valuable."
Indeed, this particular tea leaf—capable of sharpening the mind—was rare in the Black Fog Forest.
Its taste was far from pleasant. In fact, it was awful:
—First, a sharp sting hit the tongue, followed by a wave of bitter nausea, ending with an uncomfortable numbness in the throat.
All thanks to the trace toxins it contained.
But that very trait—keeping one alert when drowsiness struck—made it a treasured commodity among the apprentice hopefuls desperately cramming to advance.
Robb watched Andrey feign refinement and couldn't help but chuckle inwardly.
This "prince," despite his royal blood, wasn't doing much better than he was.
"If Your Highness likes it, I could bring more another day…"
"Stop right there."
Andrey raised a hand, his smile unchanged, but his tone sharpened with suspicion.
"Such generosity from you is suspicious. Out with it—what do you want?"
Robb chuckled softly. As expected of the perceptive Thirteenth Prince.
Even back in the capital, Andrey had been known for this calm sharpness—that was precisely why his older brothers feared him, ultimately finding excuses to banish him here.
"Alright, since you're being direct, I won't beat around the bush either."
Robb straightened his posture, his tone turning serious. "I want to buy the Solar Breathing Technique from you."
Pfft!
Andre nearly spat out the tea he had just sipped. For once, his polished demeanor cracked.
He quickly set the cup down, eyes wide with disbelief. "What did you say?"
"The Solar Breathing Technique," Robb repeated firmly, his gaze unwavering. "I know it's one of the core legacies of the Farwynd royal family—the best breathing technique in the kingdom."
Andrey's face turned stern instantly. His previous gentle demeanor vanished, replaced by a sharpness that didn't match his young age.
"I didn't expect you to ask for something like that. It's the very foundation of our royal heritage…"
"I understand." Robb interrupted calmly. "Precisely because I know its value, I'm offering this price."
He pulled a small cloth pouch from his clothing.
When he emptied its contents onto the table, Andre's pupils shrank slightly.
A pile of shimmering shards spilled out, glowing faintly under the dim candlelight—magic stone fragments.
In the Black Fog Forest, these fragments were the only real currency among apprentices.
A hundred fragments could be traded for a whole magic stone—but few were willing to make that trade.
A single fragment could buy luxury on the street. Ten could get you a strong non-human slave.
For comparison, the official Basic Meditation Manual issued by white-robed wizards cost just one full stone.
"Thirty magic stone fragments," Robb said clearly.
Andrey merely sneered, not even glancing at the pile. "That's all? You think I'm a beggar?"
"You're right," Robb said with a bitter smile, his eyes briefly resting on the glowing heap. "Thirty isn't enough."
He pulled out a few more from his coat and set them down gently. "How about forty?"
Andrey remained stoic, but his eyes narrowed slightly—clearly weighing the proposition.
Robb knew now was the time to play his trump card.
"You know my mental aptitude…"
He paused, a self-deprecating note in his voice. "A pitiful sixth-circle. Advancing within three months is basically impossible."
"If I fail, I'll either end up as a test subject or get exiled to the wilds. And I…"
His voice softened slightly, tinged with a barely noticeable tremor. "I don't want to die. At least, not without dignity."
Andre's expression softened slightly, but quickly returned to its previous indifference. "So what?"
"That's why I need the Solar Breathing Technique."
Robb met his gaze directly. "Of all the techniques I know, it's the most effective. It has the highest potential."
As he spoke, he added ten more fragments to the table.
"Fifty pieces. That's everything I have."
Andre stared at the softly glowing pile in silence.
Robb knew exactly what he was thinking. To the high-and-mighty wizards, nobles like them were little better than commoners.
But techniques like this—looked down on by true wizards—were what allowed the Farwynd royal family to rule over other nobles and the masses. These techniques were their true leverage in this world.
"You understand," Andrey finally said, his voice weary, "this isn't just about money…"
"I swear," Robb said solemnly, "this technique will never reach a third person. And…"
His eyes lingered on Andrey, carefully choosing his words.
"I've noticed you've been studying other wizardry techniques. Surely you could use extra resources too."
That hit the mark. Andrey's eyes flickered, and a wry smile crept onto his face.
"You really know how to strike a nerve."
He sighed. "I must say, you're much more cunning than I thought."
Looking back on the count's son from a week ago, and now seeing this smooth-talking negotiator, Andrey couldn't help but be impressed.
Change like this might not be a bad thing.
"But…" he adjusted his posture and resumed his usual graceful tone, "if I'm going to teach you the Solar Breathing Technique, we'll have to start from the very basics…"