He'll think about it. 

That is literally all he needs to do! The Acolyte is sure he'll get the hang of it eventually, even if he's just directing a spare moment of thought to it every once in a while, dedication and focus will just make it happen faster.

Regardless, the Acolyte will continue his exploration of the College without bothering this probably-still-doubtful magister any more. He'll chat with anyone interested in this strange wizard's tale, trading stories for stories, as well as maybe see if he can find anything out about the particular things (both magical and mundane) that are actually taught here.

At this university, they teach the liberal arts, the professions (law, medicine, and theology), and magic! They are a mediocre place to learn post-Teclis Monowind casting but the foremost human institution for learning sea magic, which is not associated with a wind for reasons that nobody seems to be able to explain to someone without magesight. The sea is a strange power, it seems. Magisters are happy to expound on their personal interests, and he learns various facts about trade good classification, human anatomy, the stars, Manann the sea-god, and the personal failings of various other faculty members, in the remaining hours before he has to return to his ship.

Huh. Magic back in his homeworld wasn't nearly as much of a...unified metaphysical phenomenon, as it is here, but he does recollect that the ocean was well-known to be strange and temperamental, with only some of the most powerful and ancient magical traditions being able to reliably to work against its current rather than with it.

Regardless, it's both an entertaining and informative day, and helps him develop a better grounding in local culture, which will be valuable when it comes time to start properly writing his manuscript on Fire. Plus, he's certain he's planted at least a handful of embers in the minds of curious magisters, even if probably none are them are likely to bloom into proper Fire particularly soon.

It'd be great to hang around here for a few days, to properly fan the flames, but it seems...unlikely, at least, that the city will be wiped off the map before he has a second chance to visit it, so he'll have to settle for next time. Back to the ship he goes, to prepare for the next leg of the voyage!

As he arrives back at the ship, he finds a man in his early twenties, clad in the worn robe of a somewhat impoverished student, complete with inkstains in black and red, rushes up to him, panting slightly. 

"Ah, you would be The Acolyte?" He says between breaths. "I'm glad I could catch you in time." 

"Indeed, and none too soon! What can I do for you?"

"I had heard, from a contact of mine, that you teach magic to whoever asks? And that you wouldn't be in town for long." He straightens up, tries to take a more formal posture. "Will you teach me?" 

"'Not in town for long' might be something of an understatement, given I'm to set sail tomorrow. Regardless, I'm happy to teach my arts, but I should forewarn you that they aren't especially akin to the magic of the Winds, as far as I've seen at least, so if you're hoping I can grant you the Gift you may be disappointed. If you can accept that, though, and are willing to practice with me through the night, then yes, I can teach you at the least enough to let you continue on your own after I depart."

"I can travel! Nothing of importance keeping me here." 

"Ah! Well, I'll still need to speak with our captain with regards to securing bed, food, and work for an additional traveler, but aside from that there should be no issue."

Probably after that, he'll introduce this new student to his fellows, get started in bringing him up to speed with them others, and in the morrow speak to the captain of the vessel for the next leg of the journey.

"Thank you, thank you!" 

The captain considers him a pretty poor potential sailor but will take him on if he's willing to work, which he is, and the scholars willingness to supplement this with a little silver he owns settles the matter further. 

A little bit of Power can make someone a much better sailor, with the right mindset, as well, which will hopefully help things, if and when the new student picks it up.

After sending a messenger to the Verenites to let them know he's leaving the city and his plans for the further legs of his journey, and waiting for his students to finish any lingering business from yesterday, they will (presumably) set sail!

They have spent their time ashore obtaining the relaxing luxuries of civilisation and supplies for their respective purposes, and nothing will impair them from setting sail!

Then off they shall go!

They sail up the coast of Bretonia, make the leap from the coast of Lyonesse to the coast of Yvress, and sail down there. They stop on a couple of tiny elvish isles populated by the strange and hardy sea-elf folk, but stay nowhere long. Eventually, the greatest city in the Uluthan - perhaps, in the entire world, enters into view. The great harbor of Lothern, the home of all the good peoples of the world, the guardian of Uluthan, the home of the Phoenix King. The Glittering Tower, that ancient lighthouse, shines before them, guiding their way to the Emerald Gate (made of bronze and merely encrusted with emeralds), their safe harbor guaranteed by ranks of Sea Guard armed with spear and bow and walls bristling with ballistae. Beyond, a city of towers and islands beckons, the spires fluttering with pennants of red and gold, almost looking aflame in the sunlight. As the ship enters the harbor, Phoenixes turn and wheel in the sky above as they sail past statues, hundreds of feet tall, depicting the kings and gods of the high elves.

What an absolutely gorgeous sight! He supposes it makes sense that this place doesn't look (or smell, or feel) much like any place in his old world, since going from the maps he's gotten a chance to look at, the entire landmass of Ulthuan seems the least parallel to any of those from his home, almost entirely unprecedented rather than just merely highly warped the way the lands he's wandered through previously have been.

He might spend a good chunk of his time here just appreciating the beauty, and another chunk spending more time with his students, offering his aid to their projects and maybe even falling into something of a lecture every once in a while (and certainly not minding if any other people decide to listen in).

Elves do not stop to study the petty arts of humans (or to examine those arts long enough to notice their lack of pettiness), but Eataine is nothing if not a city for ambitious humans full of envy for magic they can never learn, and he finds many takers for what few lessons he can give, though in the short time available, he doesn't find any proper students. In time, the masters of the ship have completed their resupply, trading lumber and furs for the wonders of elder artifice - jewellery, glittering mail, and intricate cloth in quantities enough to half-fill the hold even despite its preciousness, and they are once again at sea. They leap the great ocean again and find themselves again in Bretonnia, now to the south, and the treasure trickles from their hold in exchange for wine in Bordeleaux and salt in Brionne, for saffron in Bilbali and guns in Margeretta, for surely-stolen gold (and much-inferior wine) in Sartosa and fine maiolica and copper in Myrmidens as they sail south down the coast and east into the Black Gulf, each time accruing a profit to be in coins, gems, and wonders kept in a well-sealed safe hidden somewhere in the captain's office. The whole way, they're dodging pirates - though very few come into sight of the ship, and the Acolyte has pointed out to him dangerous ships of myriad kinds - orkish junk-ships, slave-ships from Uzkulak and Nagaroth (the former made of dark steel and belching smoke; the latter sleek and deceptively fast whether by oar or sail), unmarked ships which belch lightning instead of canon-fire, and great galleons flying the skull and crossbones which leave the docks of Sartosa stinking of death and decay. Only two make a go at the fast elven cutter - the unmarked ship and one of the dark elven ships, and neither chooses to press the issue when it becomes clear that there is a warmage onboard. 

In Myrmiddens, the second to last major port on his journey, his newest student has decided to make his goodbye - he feels, he says, that he has learned enough of Flames to practice on his own, and he has, despite the Acolyte's warnings, decided to follow in his footsteps as a soldier of fortune protecting the myriad petty patchwork kingdoms of the Border Princes from the greenskin scourge, and thereby make his fortune as a battlemage in a land famous for its inability to police the use of magic (or any other law). He's good enough with Flames that he could absolutely contribute to a small to medium sized battle, though he hasn't advanced to the point where a crossbowman couldn't get lucky. 

Yes, the Acolyte supposes that is how these things go, for those with the temperament for battle. He certainly doesn't think he could dissuade his younger self from soldiery, or even if he'd try given the opportunity. Instead, he simply bids his student farewell and good luck, and reminds him to stay safe, that it's much harder to learn new things when you're dead, and to keep a journal of his developments and progress with Fire, since it wouldn't do to have his knowledge be lost if he does ends up meeting an ugly fate.

The Acolyte will also consider maybe taking a turn in these 'Border Princes' at some point, to gather some more acclaim and maybe meet up again with this student, if he's still alive and still in the area. For now, though, he'll stay the course to the last port before the overland leg of the journey.

While Barak Varr cannot compare for Lothern in splendour, it certainly makes up for it in fortifications; the mountains surrounding the sea-caves and hidden coves bristle with cannon and steel, each visible emplacement a promise of two more better hidden. The largest and most accurate cannons in the known world are here, ready to blow away any fleet which dares to threaten what makes a good showing of being the greatest trade-port in the Old World. 

The docks themselves are a revelation; ancient stone lit by glimmers of sunlight from skylights above and worn down by a thousand thousand footsteps - and yet as fit for purpose as the day it was laid, the air rich with the scent of a thousand spices from a thousand lands. In these markets, crowns and artifacts flow as freely as jewels and mastercrafts, dwarf steel and cathayan gunpowder alongside Elven silverwork and Imperial cloth, and every good the Acolyte has seen at any other port in this world (albeit at suitable markups.)

For the last leg of his journey, he can travel by land or by ironclad riverboat; the former is slower and at greater risk of greenskins, but the latter is more expensive. 

Another beautiful city, and another that the Acolyte is interested in visiting again in the future, to make a proper destination rather than simply a stop on the way.

He still has the funds to afford the riverboat, but it's ultimately not necessary. His students are willing to travel by road, and the journey so far hasn't been so long that the extra time would be an intolerable. The danger presented by greenskins is...probably not literally nil, but unlikely to materialize.

Overland to Karak 8 Peaks it is.