Why is special knowledge about magic banned?Perhaps it is because we all fear that such knowledge will fall into the wrong hands.Of course, there has always been a system of apprenticeships to ensure that particular knowledge is passed on to those who have been trained and judged worthy of passing on that knowledge.While such attempts seem to protect us from unscrupulous occult sorcerers, they also ignore that magic does not arise from this special knowledge.People are either born with a predilection for certain magics or have an extreme scarcity.For example, the well-known Skill magic is closely related to the blood of the royal far-reaching family, although it may also appear in the "wild breed" of ancestors from the Inland or Outer Islands.Those trained in the Skill can read the minds of others, no matter how far away they are; those who have mastered the Skill are more capable of influencing the thoughts of others, and even conversing with them.This is an excellent weapon for war command and information collection.

There is an even older magic in folklore, the "Wisdom" that has been neglected today.Few would admit that they had a gift for this magic, so it was always presumed that the dwellers in the next valley, or on the far side of the mountains, were proficient in it.I suspect it was an innate magic of the ancient hunter-dwellers, not of the settlers, and of those who claim to be of the blood of the beasts of the woods.It is said that the Wisdom endows people with the ability to speak the language of beasts, and those who exercise the Wisdom excessively will become the beasts it binds.But this may just be a legend.

There's also a spell called "Country Sorcerer," though I've never been able to pinpoint the origin of that name.Proven or doubtful spells include palmistry, water knowledge, interpretation of crystal reflections, and spells centered on predicting the future.Another lesser-known class of magic produces physical effects such as cloaking, levitating, and animating otherwise inanimate objects.All of these spells, from the Widow's Son's Flying Chair to the Borean Magic Tablecloth, are ancient legends, and as far as I know, no one has claimed the ability to perform them.Perhaps they are nothing more than the legends of the inhabitants of ancient times, or they may be legends of mythical or near-mythical creatures, such as dragons, giants, ancient spirits, aliens and all kinds of strange creatures.

I pause for a moment to clean my pen.My handwriting went from cobweb-like dense to chaotic mist on the rough paper.I will not write these words on the fine parchment, because the time has not come, and I am not sure whether I should write them.I asked myself: why did I write this?Wouldn't it be better if this knowledge was passed on by word of mouth to those who are qualified to pass it on?Maybe, maybe not.This knowledge that we take for granted may remain a mystery to our descendants. There is very little literature on magic.I've painstakingly sifted through the patchwork of information for a sliver of knowledge, finding stray references and casual hints, but that's about it.I always want to put on paper the relevant information I have gathered and stored in my head over the past few years; I will write down the knowledge I have gained from my own experience and finding out the truth.Perhaps, in this way, I can provide answers for other fools like myself who suffer from an inner magical battle.

But when I sat down to write, I hesitated.What right do I have to insist on defying the wisdom of my ancestors?Should I go straight to the point of how a Wisdom man expands his powers, or connects himself to animals?Or should it detail the kinds of training necessary to become a Skill user?I have never possessed country sorcery and fabled magic, so what right have I to fix my unearthed secrets on paper like so many specimens of butterflies and leaves for study? I tried to figure out what to do with this kind of unearned knowledge, and wondered what I was gaining from it.Power, wealth, or women's love?I can't help laughing at myself because neither the Skill nor the Wit got me that.Even if there is, I have no intention or ambition to take it for myself.

power.I never wanted power because I liked it.Sometimes I crave power when I am imprisoned or when someone close to me is persecuted by a power-hungry abuser.wealth.I never really thought about it.Since my bastard grandson swore his oath to King Shrewd, he has always made sure my every need is met.I was well fed and well educated, I had clothes that were simple and annoyingly stylish, enough pocket money to spend, and growing up at Buckkeep gave me more wealth than most boys.Love?My horse Soot loves me in his own tender way, Big Nose the hound is loyal to me till death, and a puppy loves me so madly that it might cost him his life.Therefore, I dare not think about the price I have to pay for loving me.

I grew up amidst intrigue and strings of secrets, always with a characteristic loneliness and isolation that made it impossible to fully trust others.I couldn't follow Federun, the court clerk, and while he kept admiring my crisp handwriting and perfectly inked illustrations, I couldn't reveal my status as an apprentice to the Royal Assassins.Nor can I reveal to my diplomat and master assassin, Chade, how I survived the brutal atrocities of Skill Master Garen, let alone openly talk about my spontaneous interest in the ancient beast magic "Wisdom", Only because those who use it will incur fall and corruption.

Can't even tell Molly.Molly is a treasure and a true refuge.She is completely irrelevant to my everyday life, not least because she is female, although gender differences remain a mystery to me.I grew up almost among men, and not only did I lose both parents, but none of my blood relatives publicly recognized me.Burrich, the rough master of the stables, had been my father's right-hand man and looked after me as a child, and the groom and guards had been with me every day.At that time there were female guards, although there were not as many as there are now, but like their male compatriots, female guards also had to perform their duties, and they had to take care of their own daily life and family when they were not performing guard duties, so I could not occupy their time .

I have no biological mother, sister, or aunt, and have never had any woman treat me with their characteristic tenderness.The only exception is Molly. She was a year or two older than me, growing like a tiny twig breaking through a gap in a pebble.Neither her father's habitual drunkenness and brutality, nor the superficiality of a child's semblance of peace, could break her.When I first met her, she was as wild and alert as a newborn fox, and the kids on the street called her Molly Puffy.She often bears the scars of being whipped by her father, but no matter how violent her father is, she still takes care of him.Even when she staggered and helped her drunken father home to bed, he had to bear his whining and severe criticism.When he woke up, he never regretted the previous night's drunkenness and harsh reprimands, but only cursed harder, such as why didn't the candle shop be cleaned and fresh herbs spread on the floor?Why doesn't she take care of the hives that are almost out of honey to sell?Why did she let the fire in the butter pan burn out?I have witnessed this scene many times in silence, but never understood it.

However, Molly still grew up in suffering.She bloomed like a flower, suddenly one summer she was a woman, and I was awed by her shrewdness and femininity.When our eyes met, my tongue was stuck in my mouth like leather, and I couldn't speak at all, but I don't think she knew anything about it.Even if I had magic, or the Skill, or the Wit, I still felt a throbbing inside me when our hands casually touched, and I still felt an unspeakable embarrassment when she smiled.