A short time later, she arrived in the library, surrounded by the smell of old leather, parchment and dust, which settled over her like a familiar blanket. The dimmed light from the Essence lamps bathed the high bookshelves in a cozy glow.


    Valentina walked straight to the Essence Theory section, running her fingers over the spines of books as she searched for texts that might help her with her studies. "Basics of Essence Weaving", "The Story of the Martyr and Its Significance to Weaving" - a title wandered into the pile on her arm.


    When she turned a corner a little too energetically, she almost bumped into someone. "Oh, sorry!" she mumbled and looked up. Crispin was standing in front of her, his arms full of books just like her, blushing slightly.


    "V-Valentina!" he stuttered. "I... I didn''t even hear you come in."


    Valentina smiled shyly. After the events of today''s Essence Theory lecture, she felt a little embarrassed in his presence. Had it really been him who had written the poem? But who else could it have been?


    "Late, huh?" she said to bridge the awkward silence.


    Crispin nodded eagerly. "Yes, I thought I''d take advantage of everyone being at dinner and use the quiet for a bit of extra study. I found Professor Horne''s lecture to be quite demanding."


    "You can say that again," sighed Valentina. "I often have the feeling that I only understand half of what he says."


    Crispin''s eyes lit up when she said that. "Oh, if you''d like, maybe I could help you? I''m no expert either, but sometimes it helps to go through the material together."


    Valentina hesitated briefly, but then nodded gratefully. "That would be really nice of you, Crispin."


    They found a quiet table in a secluded corner of the library and spread out their books and notes. As they began to discuss the complex theories they covered in Essence Theory, Valentina watched Crispin out of the corner of her eye. His hands trembled slightly with excitement as he turned the pages and he kept giving her shy glances.


    "Look here," Crispin just explained, "the theory is that Leb Essence tends to flow in a spiral pattern, that''s the most favorable shape you can get it into. Once you understand that, it becomes much easier to weave Leb Essence."


    Valentina nodded thoughtfully. "That reminds me... I think I just saw something like that out in the garden..."


    She was just about to tell Crispin about her encounter with the old gardener when a loud noise interrupted their conversation. At a nearby table, a student had activated a complicated Essence-infused study device that was now quietly vibrating and projecting shimmering Essence flow diagrams into the air.


    She was ashamed of it, but Valentina felt a painful twinge of envy. Such tools were completely out of her reach. She turned back to Crispin, determined not to be discouraged.


    "Thank you for going through all that with me," she said with sincere gratitude. "It really helped me gain a bit more perspective."


    Crispin blushed to the tips of his hair. "I loved doing that," he murmured. "You''re... I mean, you''re fun to study with."


    An awkward silence spread between the two of them. Valentina played nervously with a strand of hair, unsure of what she should say or do now. She wanted to ask Crispin about the poem, but she didn''t want to risk their fragile friendship.


    At that moment, a loud bell rang, alerting the students that the library would be closing shortly.


    "Oh Martyr, we have to go!" Valentina called out and hurriedly began to gather her books and notes.


    Crispin nodded and was visibly relieved that the unpleasant situation had been interrupted. "We''d better hurry or we''ll be locked up here."This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    After packing up their stuff, they rushed to the door. There was a basket at the exit where students could dispose of used pieces of parchment. As always, Valentina reached in with nimble fingers and put the scraps of parchment in her bag. She would scrape them clean and reuse them later. As she took one last look back, she remembered that she hadn''t had a chance to look for solutions to her resource problem after meeting Crispin. She promised herself to return at the next opportunity and make up for it.


    "See you tomorrow?" Crispin asked hopefully as they said goodbye to each other.


    Valentina nodded with a smile. "Yes, with pleasure. Maybe we can study a bit for Essence Theory after the lectures?"


    Crispin beamed at her. "That would be really wonderful! I... I''m looking forward to it."


    With a last shy smile, he disappeared around the corner. Valentina looked after him with a satisfied and relieved feeling. Perhaps, she thought, she wasn''t as alone here in Bridgewater as she often felt. She just hoped Crispin''s infatuation wouldn''t make everything more complicated than it needed to be.


    ~


    After a quick dinner in the university dining room, Valentina dragged herself wearily to her small attic room in the student residence. The steep and worn wooden stairs creaked loudly under her aching feet. It was now a familiar sound that accompanied her on her way home every evening.


    As she walked up, her eyes wandered over the windows of the more luxurious accommodation on the second floor. Innogen sat at a sleek desk of polished dark oak, surrounded by a hodgepodge of expensive Essence-infused Weaving aids that glittered slightly in the lamplight. For a moment, just a moment, Valentina felt a pang of envy, which she immediately tried to suppress. Innogen was her friend. Though she was the daughter of the Marquess of Timperpine, a magnate of the realm, she had never made Valentina feel in the slightest that she was anything more than the fourth child of a simple yeoman. She would not dishonor their friendship with envy.


    At last she reached her little room under the roof. It was small, with sloping walls and a tiny window, but it was her own little sanctuary. Valentine lit the simple little oil lamp on her rickety bedside table and flopped heavily onto her narrow bed. The mattress was very thin and hard, but after a long day, she felt as if she had been wrapped in the finest down.


    She turned on her side and looked out of her small window. From up here, she had a perfect view of the Burning Tower. Its flame shone like a beacon in the darkness. The pulsating glow of the Essence patterns surrounding the tower seemed to flicker to the rhythm of her beating heart.


    Valentina sighed deeply and rubbed her closed eyes for a moment. The day had been a real rollercoaster of emotions. Taking a deep breath, she sat up again. She wasn''t here in Bridgewater to whine or give up, but to learn, grow and become the best Essence Weaver she could be. She owed it to her family.


    Valentina got up again and opened the window. The cold air hit her in the face. She stretched out her hand and concentrated, trying to feel the Essence around her, just as she had done in the garden with the roses.


    Nothing happened at first. Then, very slowly but steadily, she felt a slight tingling in her fingertips and fine threads of Viur Essence danced, barely visible, around her hand. With her face contorted in concentration, Valentina tried to shape the essence, to weave a pattern for a warm breeze that could warm her chilly room. For a brief, wonderful, almost magical moment, she succeeded - a warm breeze blew invigoratingly through her room.


    Then it was over again, as suddenly as it had begun. The essence withdrew from her grasp and Valentina gasped for air from exhaustion. She had almost forgotten how exhausting it was to try to weave without Distilled Essence.


    Rich moneybags like Faustus Boarfend could afford to waste the sinfully expensive substance on all sorts of things, be it advanced exercises or keeping the room warm. She couldn''t afford it.


    Although she was exhausted, Valentina had to smile. It was a small success, but it was all hers. Proof that she had the potential to become a good Essence Weaver if she worked hard enough. And if she had enough Distilled Essence. She could work as hard as she wanted, but without Distilled Essence, she wouldn''t get anything done. A carpenter without wood doesn''t build cabinets.


    Sighing, she turned away from the window. Her thoughts kept returning to the same point, her lack of resources. She wasn''t concerned with comfort, if she had enough study materials, if she had enough Distilled Essence, she would sleep on the floor. She let her eyes wander around her sparse room, over her meager possessions. Scuffed books, patched clothes, a small wooden effigy of the Burning Tower, a talisman carved for her by her brother, who was Ember in a monastery. They all betrayed her humble origins. But she refused to simply accept that as an obstacle. She would use it as motivation, work hard and even harder, learn even more and go further than anyone would think possible.


    With renewed determination, Valentina sat down at her small desk once again. She pulled out her scraps of parchment and began writing down the day''s events, organizing her thoughts and making plans for the next day. She would think of something she could do. She simply had to think of something.


    With one last look at the Burning Tower and a silent prayer to the Martyr in her head, Valentina turned off her lamp and lay down in bed, her mind still in turmoil. After her hand found its usual way between her thighs, she slowly calmed down and drifted off to sleep.