Chapter 12 - Master and disciple

In the quiet of the banquet hall, the curiosity of Elrond's children—Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen—remained fixed on the dark, pulsing book. They had spent their long lives mastering the arts of the Firstborn, yet the strange, practical "Science" of the shadow was a path they had never walked.

{Stepping forward} Father, we have seen the strength this magic gave to Oliver. If the shadow is truly a tool and not a master, we wish to learn its patterns. We wish to stand as guardians of the wood who fear no darkness.

Elrond looked at his sons and then at Arwen, his expression shifting from a father's pride to a lord's caution. He knew the risk of the Codex Umbra better than they did.

I will not forbid your quest for knowledge, but hear my warning. This magic is like a deep winter—it can keep you cold and sharp in battle, but if you do not guard your heart, it will freeze the light within you. You must not overdo it. If your spirit breaks, even I cannot call you back from the madness.

He then turned his gaze toward Oliver, his eyes searching.

Oliver, you have walked this path alone. Are you willing to take the burden of a teacher? Will you share these secrets with my children?

Oliver leaned back, a small, thoughtful smirk playing on his lips. He thought of the many "survival runs" where he had wished for a team who knew the mechanics as well as he did.

I don't mind. I've been looking for a disciple for a long time, but it's hard to find anyone who doesn't run at the first sight of a shadow. As long as their hearts stay pure and they take responsibility for the power they're holding, I'll teach them. Power is just a resource—it's how you spend it that matters.

Galadriel stepped forward, her golden hair reflecting the soft starlight. She had read the Codex herself and knew that while its source was not tied to Sauron or Morgoth, it still drew from the same primal Void.

I allow this teaching, for this shadow is not born of malice. But I charge you, Oliver: ensure they do not go too far. The darkness is a slow poison for those who do not respect its depth. You are their Master now. Their minds are in your hands.

Oliver stood, adjusting his Top Hat with a firm nod. He looked at the three Elves who were now officially his first students.

Don't worry. I'll take care of them. In my world, we have a saying: 'Don't Starve.' I'll make sure they don't starve for power, and more importantly, I'll make sure they don't lose themselves to it. We start tomorrow at dawn. Bring your own flint.

The three children of Elrond bowed, their faces lit with a mix of excitement and solemnity. They were no longer just the children of a High Elf; they were the first disciples of the Master of Shadows.

******

The banquet ended under a canopy of fading stars. Oliver led his three new disciples—Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen—away from the silver spires of Rivendell and back toward the rugged, practical reality of his forest mansion.

The teaching began at dawn. Oliver didn't start with the Codex Umbra. He stood in the damp grass, his Top Hat replaced by a simple Straw Hat for the morning sun.

Rule number one: Magic and machines are powerful, but you can't rely on them every second. You need to know how to move in these woods with nothing but your hands and the ground beneath you.

The Elves were already masters of the wild, but Oliver's "Pro" survival logic was different. He showed them how to lash flint and twigs into tools that felt balanced for high-speed labor, and how to identify the exact types of grass and wood that held the most structural tension. To his satisfaction, they learned with the speed of those who had lived for centuries.

{Nodding} Good. You've got the basics down. Now, let's move to the Tech Tree.

He led them to a flat patch of dirt near the mansion and brought out the raw materials: logs, rocks, and raw gold ore.

This is the Science Machine. It's the heart of everything I've built. It doesn't just assemble; it's an artifact that lets you craft things that your bare hands simply can't manage.

Under his guidance, the three siblings worked together to calibrate the stone gears and the golden lever. When the machine finally hissed into life, clicking and spinning, the Elves stepped back in awe. Oliver then demonstrated how the machine could produce the essentials: the Log Suit, the Spear, and tactical gear like Bee Mines, Blow Darts, Sleep Darts, and Fire Darts.

{Examining a Sleep Dart} To subdue a foe without drawing blood... it is a merciful craft. {Touching the Fire Dart} And this carries a spark that could turn a forest to ash. A dangerous tool, but a necessary one for the darkness.

But the siblings' fascination peaked when Oliver showed them the advanced monitoring equipment. He explained the Rainometer, the Thermal Measurer, and the Lightning Rod.

{Touching the smooth glass of the Thermal Measurer} You have captured the very breath of the seasons in a tube.

And this rod... it commands the lightning to strike it instead of the house? It is genius. We have always read the sky by instinct, but you have turned the laws of the world into a language that any man can read.

Oliver then pointed toward the tilled soil near his mansion, where the heavy scent of the herd lingered.

Speaking of genius... let's talk about Beefalo Manure. You might think it's just waste, but with the Science Machine, we can turn it into a high-yield fertilizer that makes crops grow with a vitality that would take weeks in a normal garden.

The disciples looked at the steaming piles of fertilizer, then back at the clicking machines, realizing that for Oliver, the world was a giant puzzle where every piece—from the lightning in the sky to the waste on the ground—had a vital, scientific purpose.