The next day found Tycho contemplating the folly of his youth. He had always mistrusted mages and clerics all the more. Thus was the Rhennee way. He used to glower and seethe when others used magic to contend with him. He had thought it unnatural and unfair. But now his eyes were opened. The powers he now commanded seemed to flow in his veins: more a part of him than his very name. These powers had allowed him to face a dragon and its vaunted dragon-fire; more than this, these gifts had empowered him to slay a dragon.
These boons were indeed potent, but they were also bestowed. Of that, he never forgot. They were the favor of another; a favor that could someday be withheld. He thought on that for a while. Tycho decided he would accept whatever powers Sylvexen bestowed upon him, humbly and gratefully. He would continue to pay her price, but he would seek another path as well. He knew it would take time and toil, perhaps even years, but he would learn the intricacies of the Arcane. He would learn to weave them into his very body and soul, and more importantly, he would bestow these secrets upon himself.