The Minor Rune of the Scholar greets the eye as a pale shard caught between candlelight and shadow, a slim, almost leaf-thin fragment of ivory-gray stone etched with a lattice of tiny, ink-dark sigils. Its surface is smooth as a well-worn page, cool to the touch, with a faint, resinous scent that hints at long hours spent under the glow of lamplight. When held up to the flame, the runes flare a whisper-soft violet, then settle again into a quiet gleam, as if the artifact itself is listening for a question to answer. Lore says this rune was pressed from the relics of a forgotten library, where scholars cataloged every whisper of the world—pages bound in cloth and patience—before the fall of ink and empire. The result is a token both intimate and useful, a talisman that a reader can keep in a pocket or a saddlebag, a reminder that knowledge travels as steadily as feet on a road. In practice, its utility is modest but meaningful. Slip it into a rune slot on armor or accessories, and you’ll notice a subtle shift: a gradual sharpening of focus in the heat of a dungeon, a quicker click of the mind as you weigh one choice against another, a whisper of better outcomes from careful study and observation. It doesn’t roar with power, but it hums with a scholar’s patience—rewarding those who slow the pace of a chase to annotate a map, to weigh a decision, to reread a clue. The Minor Rune of the Scholar becomes a companion on the longer journeys, the kind of upgrade that threads through quests and conversations, quietly nudging a party toward better planning, sharper notes, and a more deliberate approach to exploration. Players who lean into planning, who take the time to recognize patterns in a boss’s tells or the cadence of a merchant’s tale, often feel its presence most acutely: a small edge that compounds as the world reveals more of its secrets. Market days put this rune in a different light. A dust-cloaked road offers a chorus of traders, their stalls packed with talismans and trinkets, each with a backstory as tangled as the cords on a weathered map. Among them, a sturdy stallkeeper at Saddlebag Exchange unrolls a parchment price list, counting coins with a practiced rhythm. The price tags here are never absolute; they shift with demand, with stories told alongside the items. You’ll hear a cautious estimate one hour, a friendlier bid the next, and the ledger of Saddlebag Exchange bears witness to how knowledge is valued in the moment: a small, steady premium for anything that promises to sharpen the mind or shorten a journey. It’s a world where a rune’s worth rises and falls like the price of ink in a bustling market, and where a traveler learns to trade not just in metal, but in memory and method. And so the Minor Rune of the Scholar remains more than a stat tweak or a line on a sheet. It’s a thread in the fabric of the road-weary scholar’s life, a token of patience and study that travels with you as you map the lay of the land, catalog the dangers, and carry the story of a world that rewards those who learn to read its weathered pages.