FOUNDATIONS OF KNOWLEDGE

Marcus woke to the sound of shouting from the street below. Not the usual morning bustle of Drakmoor, but something harsher, official voices barking orders, the thud of heavy boots, and underneath it all, the desperate protests of families being torn from their homes.

"What's happening out there?" Tom asked, already pulling on his clothes with the quick efficiency he'd learned during their journey to the capital.

Marcus moved to the small window and peered down at the street. His stomach dropped at what he saw. A squad of city guards, maybe twenty strong, was systematically removing refugees from several buildings. Older families, mostly, people who'd been here longer but apparently hadn't proven their "worth" to the city's satisfaction.

"Evictions," Marcus said grimly. "They're clearing out refugees who can't pay their fees or find productive work."

The lead officer, a stocky man with a voice that carried easily over the chaos, was reading from an official proclamation. "By order of the Royal Housing Authority, all residents of Buildings 39 through 52 must vacate immediately. New arrivals require immediate accommodation."

Marcus felt a chill of recognition. Buildings 39 through 52 included their current quarters in Building 47.

"Tom, get everyone up. We need to move now."

But as they hurried to wake the family and gather their belongings, Marcus realized they'd anticipated this possibility. Their possessions were already packed, their important items sorted and ready for transport. The Academy arrangement had come just in time.

The family worked with quiet efficiency, loading their few possessions onto the handcart they'd borrowed from Master Cornelius. By the time the eviction squad reached their building, they were already carrying their belongings toward the street.

The lead officer spotted them emerging and approached with the swagger of someone accustomed to intimidating desperate people.

"Building 47, you're supposed to be cleared out already..." He stopped when he saw their organized departure. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Academy housing," Marcus replied calmly. "We have proper authorization."

The officer's expression soured. "Academy housing? For refugees? Let me see your papers."

Marcus produced the letter Master Cornelius had provided, written on Academy parchment with official seals. The officer read it twice, his scowl deepening.

"Fancy friends won't protect you forever, boy," he said finally, handing back the letter with obvious reluctance. "Academy or not, refugees who cause trouble find themselves back on the street."

"We don't intend to cause any trouble," Marcus replied evenly.

"See that you don't."

As the family made their way through Drakmoor's streets toward the Academy, Marcus couldn't help but notice the contrast between their organized departure and the chaos they'd left behind. Other families were being forced out with no place to go, their possessions scattered, children crying.

"We were lucky," Grandfather said quietly as they walked. "Without your Academy connection, that would have been us."

"It's not luck," Marcus replied. "It's preparation meeting opportunity. But you're right, we need to make sure we never depend on anyone else's charity again."

The Academy-provided housing was a revelation. Instead of a single cramped room, they were assigned a small but proper house within the Academy grounds, two stories, with separate sleeping areas, a common room with an actual fireplace, and most remarkably, a workshop space in the basement that Marcus could use for his projects.

"This is larger than our house back in Millhaven," Aunt Mira said wonderingly as they explored their new quarters.

"And warmer," Uncle Henrik added, testing the sturdy construction of the walls.

Marcus was already mentally cataloguing the workshop space, good ventilation, stone construction that would handle heat and chemical processes safely, enough room for multiple work stations. Perfect for everything he had planned.

"Tom, are you ready for your first magic training session?" Marcus asked as they finished settling in.

Tom's face showed a mixture of excitement and nervousness. "I think so. Master Thymon said I should come to the practice yards after the morning bell."

"Remember what he told you about control. Enhancement magic isn't just about getting stronger, it's about precise application of power."

"I'll remember," Tom promised, then grinned. "Though I might also try to see how much I can lift."

As Tom headed off to his training, Marcus began setting up his workshop. He had specific plans based on his research from both worlds, the printing press improvements, the papermaking innovations, and the soap formulations that would fund everything else.

First, he needed skilled woodcarvers. The Academy had connections to every craftsman in Drakmoor, and Alice had promised to help with introductions.

"Sara," Marcus called as she entered the workshop carrying a basket of supplies. "I need you to visit the woodcarvers' quarter today. We're looking for artisans who can work with precise specifications, small, detailed pieces for printing type."

"How precise?" Sara asked, examining one of Marcus's crude prototype letter blocks.

"Each letter needs to be exactly the same height, the depth of carving consistent, the spacing perfect. It's more demanding than typical woodcarving work."

"That means expensive," Sara observed.

"Initially, yes. But if this works, we'll have more business than they can handle." Marcus handed her a list written in his improved Valdrian script. "These are the specifications. Start with Master Aldwin in the artisans' quarter, Alice recommended him as someone who appreciates innovative projects."

As Sara left on her recruitment mission, Marcus heard voices approaching from the Academy corridors above. One of them was familiar, Alice's voice, but accompanied by someone with a different cadence, more authoritative.

"Marcus!" Alice called down the workshop stairs. "I have someone who wants to meet you."

Marcus looked up to see Alice descending the steps with a tall woman in travel-worn military gear. Even before Alice made introductions, Marcus recognized the bearing, the confident stride. Sister Korra Brightshield.

"Sister Korra!" Marcus said, setting down his tools with genuine warmth. "It's good to see you again. How was your mission to the border provinces?"

Korra smiled, the formal military bearing softening slightly. "Marcus of Millhaven. I'm glad to see you've found your place at the Academy. Alice has been telling me fascinating things about your innovations."

"I've been trying to solve practical problems using available resources," Marcus replied carefully. "Nothing revolutionary, just... creative applications of basic principles."

"Alice tells me you've been revolutionizing both soap making and scholarly materials," Korra said. "I wanted to congratulate you personally. Not just for your innovations, but for the way you've helped your family establish themselves here. It's not easy for refugees to find their footing in Drakmoor's economy."

"We've had help," Marcus said. "The Academy's support has been invaluable."

Korra's expression grew more serious. "About that, I should warn you that conditions outside Drakmoor are deteriorating. The border situation is becoming untenable. Rescue and evacuation missions have been suspended for the winter, which means no new resources coming in, and pressure on the crown to reduce expenses."

Marcus felt a familiar chill of concern. "How bad is it?"

"Bad enough that I'm being reassigned to civilian support duty. I'll be visiting local clinics throughout the city, evaluating their capacity to handle increased demand if the situation worsens. Making sure we're prepared for whatever winter might bring."

"That sounds like important work," Marcus said. "Is there anything we can do to help from the Academy?"

"Just keep doing what you're doing. Innovation and practical solutions are exactly what we'll need." Korra turned to Alice. "Sister, I should let you get back to your work. I have several more stops to make today."

After Korra left to continue her assessments, Alice lingered in the workshop, examining Marcus's latest projects with obvious fascination.

"She seems concerned about the winter," Alice observed.

"More than she's letting on, I think," Marcus replied. "But that just means we need to make sure our innovations are ready to help when needed."

Alice nodded thoughtfully. "Speaking of innovations, how is the printing press design coming along?"

"Better than expected. With the Academy's resources and the skilled craftsmen Sara is recruiting, we should be able to create something revolutionary."

The rest of the day passed in productive activity. Sara returned with promising contacts among the woodcarvers, Tom came back from magic training exhausted but exhilarated, and Marcus made significant progress on his printing press design.

But as evening approached, Marcus found himself drawn to the Academy library. The research he'd done in his modern world had given him insights into papermaking, but he needed to understand Valdris history, culture, and writing systems to apply that knowledge effectively. More importantly, he wanted to improve his formal language skills so he could ask better questions when he had his weekly meetings with Master Thymon.

The library was vast, filled with scrolls and bound volumes that represented centuries of accumulated knowledge. Marcus approached the elderly librarian, Master Cedric, with careful respect.

"Master Cedric, I'm looking for historical texts, information about everything," Marcus said, wanting to learn everything.

"Broad topic," Master Cedric replied with a slight smile. "Are you researching for a specific project?"

"I'm trying to understand how knowledge has been preserved and transmitted throughout Valdris history. Maybe starting with general history, I can identify the most important topics and make a list."

Master Cedric's eyes lit up with the enthusiasm of someone whose expertise was rarely appreciated. "Fascinating area of study. Most scholars focus on the content of historical texts without considering the infrastructure that made their preservation possible."

For the next two hours, Master Cedric guided Marcus through an astonishing collection of historical documents. Ancient scrolls detailing early writing techniques, medieval treatises on parchment preparation, recent discoveries.

Marcus took extensive notes, but struggled with some of the more ornate script styles. The formal academic writing used complex flourishes and abbreviations that were beyond his current literacy level.

"These symbols," Marcus said, pointing to decorative elements in a particularly elaborate text. "Are they purely ornamental, or do they carry meaning?"

"Both," Master Cedric explained. "Formal scribal writing includes standardized flourishes that indicate rank, institutional affiliation, and document type. Learning to read them properly is essential for serious scholarly work."

Marcus made careful notes about the flourishes, sketching examples and noting their meanings. Another skill he'd need to master if he wanted to fully succeed in Valdris academic circles.

As the library closed for the evening, Marcus looked for Master Thymon to possibly ask him some quick questions, but he learned from the scribes that the old wizard had retired early to rest.

Marcus returned to his workshop with a head full of new information and a growing appreciation for the complexity of the challenges he'd taken on. He spread out his various notes, printing press designs, soap formulations, papermaking techniques, business plans, and began working on synthesis. The knowledge from his modern world research, combined with what he'd learned about Valdris history and current conditions, was beginning to form a comprehensive strategy.

Working by lamplight, Marcus began creating detailed plans for Sara and her cousins. When they brought materials from Aldric's shop, they'd need precise instructions for soap preparation, molds for consistent shaping, and timetables for curing and quality control.

The Academy workshop offered opportunities for much more sophisticated work than they'd been able to achieve in Aldric's basement. Better equipment, controlled conditions, access to specialized materials, everything needed to produce superior products.

As midnight approached, Marcus finally set down his pen and reviewed the day's progress. The family was safely housed, Tom was beginning his magical education, the workshop was operational, and connections were being built throughout the Academy community.

Most importantly, he had a clear vision of what came next. Not just surviving in Drakmoor, but building something that would provide security and opportunity for everyone he cared about.

The foundations were laid. Now came the real work of construction.