Dust-caked robes and ink-stained fingers mark the humble beginnings of those who dare to seek the path of the Art. These neophytes, often plucked from mundane lives by the promise of cosmic secrets, serve as the tireless laborers of the arcane world. They spend their waking hours in the drafty attics or subterranean vaults of their masters, transcribing mundane accounts, grinding exotic minerals into pigment, and ensuring the candles never flicker low. Though they possess only the faintest flicker of magical talent—perhaps a single cantrip mastered through months of agonizing repetition—their minds are focused entirely on the distant horizon of true power, often at the cost of their health and sanity. In the bustling colleges of Silverymoon or the isolated towers of the High Forest, an apprentice is a common yet invisible fixture. They are the errand-runners who navigate dangerous city alleys to procure basilisk eyes and the watchers who must remain awake during week-long rituals. To a master wizard, an apprentice is both a legacy and a disposable tool; to the world, they are a cautionary tale of ambition. Yet, even the lowliest scribe carries a spark that can ignite destiny or disaster. Adventure often finds these initiates when their masters go missing or delve too deep into forbidden lore. A frantic apprentice might approach a band of sellswords in a crowded tavern, clutching a vibrating, locked grimoire they were never meant to touch. They offer what gold they have scavenged from the laboratory floor, pleading for protection as the master’s failed experiment begins to claw its way out of the cellar and into the light.