The bright morning sun forced itself in through the inconveniently placed window beside her bed, as if it knew she had no plans of leaving her bed today. It targeted her closed eyes perfectly and managed to annoy Ferys just enough to make her sit up.

  She’d come back to the tavern well past midnight—walking all the way back to the city had taken a couple of hours. While she wasn’t physically exhausted—thanks to her absurdly high level—she did feel the build-up of mental fatigue she’d only just come to terms with.

  Finding an artifact that could compensate for her mana deficiency was her highest priority goal—it was her greatest weakness as a mage. But if a single level 1500 was causing her trouble, a change of plans was due.

  Continuing to recklessly throw herself at every rumor that may hint at a mana pool augmenting artifact at this point could end up with her getting seriously injured, or worse.

  Ferys resolved herself to take a strategic rest—no more artifact hunting until she was back in top condition.

  But what is there even to do while resting?

  She pondered what to do next as she went through her usual morning routine, washing her face, checking her ears for stray dust, and brushing her hair, all while flicking her tail in quiet irritation at the lingering scent of last night’s battle.

  Her first order of business should be stocking back up on mana potions. She’d used every last one—even her precious high-tier potion—fighting that undead monstrosity.

  Come to think about it, maybe she should report the highly illegal human research lab she’d just discovered.

  But then she’d have to sit and answer a million questions about how she found the place, what her connection to it was, and why she was there. It would definitely become a whole ordeal.

  Everyone involved probably died fifteen years ago anyway, so there wasn’t even anyone to arrest. If someone had escaped that nightmare, they would at least have come back for the research logs at some point in the last fifteen years.

  “Yeah, even if I reported it, nothing would happen,” Ferys muttered as she finished brushing her tail. She ran her fingers through it one last time, satisfied when the fur fell smooth and even, no hint of sleep-ruffled disorder remaining.

  Thinking about what to do while taking her rest could wait; her priority was the potions anyway.

  She left her room, deciding to first head toward the Gilded Mantle—the merchant guild personally owned by Duke Caelthorne—she could get a hefty discount by dropping her name there.

  He had been her primary potion supplier during the Dragon War—she’d gone broke a decade ago if it wasn’t for the favor she’d gotten after slaying some dragon that had been rampaging throughout the western lands, which may also have been rumored to cast without running out of mana.

  As she headed downstairs, the sounds of adventurers eating breakfast and conversing loudly became clearer. Many adventurers frequented the Silver Stag tavern for its surprisingly high-quality meals compared to other adventurer-focused taverns, but in Ferys’ opinion, the true hidden gem had to be its soft wool-stuffed beds.

  The tavern owner, Karla—a kind older woman—turned her head toward the stairs. “Ferys! Never saw you come back yesterday. Long mission? Some sweet bread will liven you up real quick, on the house!”

  “I’m good, thanks, you must’ve just missed me,” Ferys shouted as she walked past a party of especially loud adventurers she’d rather not listen to while trying to enjoy her breakfast—she could just get something on the way, there were plenty of food stalls in Starfen.

  One of the adventurers—seemingly already drunk—stood up from his seat. “Ey! Why don’t we get any free food, huh?” His attention was directed at Karla.

  Karla had been running this tavern for decades, and drunken adventurers were far from an uncommon occurrence. “Because your loud ass is scaring away my customers.” She stared the man down until he finally turned his attention away.

  “If you don’t want it, just give it to us, won’t you?” He said more quietly this time than his previous shouting.

  The man was clad in shiny silver armor, lavishly decorated and clearly expensive. It was armor only a noble could afford; he most definitely didn’t need charity.

  Ferys walked past him, not giving him another glance—better to just leave the situation as fast as possible—but the man was either more stupid or drunk than she’d thought; he reached out his arm, blocking her way past.

  “Look here, I just wanna be repaid for my hard work defending this city.” He pointed toward a light blue badge on his chest—an adventurer rank signifier.

  “Is that platinum or diamond? I always mix them up.” She asked, in part genuinely curious—in part because she knew his ego wouldn’t be able to take that blow.

  “No respect for adventurers? I’ll have you know, I’m the strongest Warrior in all of Starfen, I’d be master rank if that old bastard Delmont had any eyes for skill.”

  If he’s almost master, that would make him high diamond, around level six or seven hundred, then.

  He might actually be the strongest Warrior class in Starfen—diamonds were rare even in larger cities like Starfen.

  “Hey, Nick, leave the girl alone, would ya?” One of the man's party members interjected.

  With that, the man—presumably named Nick—surprisingly sat back down, mumbling something about ‘respect for adventurers.’ Ferys didn’t care to hear him out; she was already halfway out the door the moment his attention had moved to his party member.

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  ‘Resting’ shouldn’t cause this much of a headache, should it?

  The city streets were bustling with people, merchants had stalls around every corner, carriages came down the cobblestone roads carrying goods of all kinds.

  It was surprisingly calming to just walk along the street with no sense of hurry—there was no suspicious man to hunt down, no dungeon to find before anyone else. Perhaps she could get used to this, but not too used to it—she wasn’t giving up her search for the artifact; this was only a short break.

  She considered buying something to eat from one of the vendors along the way, but nothing particularly caught her eye—the earlier annoyance had ruined her appetite.

  Her tail flicked once behind her; her instincts had picked up on something—a mana signal too large to be anything but an attack spell. It came from one of the smaller alleyways—Starfen was a safe city, but every city had its sketchier parts.

  Did someone try to rob a mage?

  Judging by the intensity of the mana signal, they were probably fine—she’d guess the mage was at least a platinum rank adventurer if they cast at this level, while probably being ambushed.

  She ignored whatever it was—no point in getting involved in trouble she had no connection to. But contrary to her thoughts, she slowed her pace walking past the alleyway, focusing her senses on the direction of the spell.

  Then something surprising happened, two new mana signatures appeared, unique from the initial one—there were now three mages. Accompanying the appearances of two more mages, a chill ran through Ferys’ body as she heard the faint scream of a young woman. On pure instinct, she cast “[Haste]” and accelerated down the alley.

  She tracked the mana to a warehouse-looking building. Without a moment's hesitation, she kicked the door down and inspected the scene. Inside, on her left were two mages in red robes with faces hidden behind masks, readying attack spells. On her right, a defensive spell had already been cast by a young, long-haired blonde woman—her face somehow stoic yet on the verge of tears simultaneously.

  The situation was clear without further scrutiny, “[A thousand Gales]” Ferys cast before the red-cloaked mages could finish their spell circles. Their bodies slammed against the wall with the force of a thousand storms, and the wall gave way for their bodies to fly onto the streets behind them.

  She quickly grabbed the girl’s arm and fled the scene—with a confused young mage in tow. They stopped in the alleyway right next to the street Ferys had come from—just close enough to call on the guards in case they’d been followed, but far enough away so they’d be able to speak without being overheard.

  “H-how…did you find me so fast?” the girl stammered. As she regained her composure, her eyes quickly transitioned from the pitiable look Ferys had first seen to a fierce gaze that could intimidate even the average archmage—but Ferys had stared down dragons, she wouldn’t be shaken by some girl she’d just saved.

  “Well, I heard you scream?” Ferys responded, not quite sure how she should respond to the question. Why was that the first thing she asked? Not ‘Why did you save me?’, ‘Who are you?’ or even a ‘Thank you.’ Something was off about this girl.

  Inspecting the girl more closely, her clothes were unusually clean—they weren’t just new, they looked completely unused. They must have been bought at most a couple of hours earlier, but most stores were just barely opening now—it was still early in the morning.

  Her ears were longer than a human's, but not long enough to be an elf; she had to be a half-elf, a rare race—even Ferys only knew of a handful of half-elves. Even for an elf, her wavy golden hair looked especially smooth—elven genetics was envied by many, and Ferys was no exception.

  The girl caught on to Ferys’ wandering gaze—not that she was trying to be especially discreet about it. Rather than seeming upset or annoyed, the girl gave her a confused, almost dumbfounded look. After gathering her thoughts, she opened her mouth again.

  “You weren’t sent by my father,” she said. At those words, Ferys’ brain clicked; the puzzle pieces fell in place. This was Duke Caelthorne’s daughter.

  He’d married into elven nobility at the start of the war—so his daughter would be around nineteen by now, which matched her estimate of the girl before her. Her blonde hair, stoic face, and fierce gaze also matched the Caelthorne she knew perfectly. There was a reason he personally negotiated all major trade deals—she’d rather fight a horde of dragons than negotiate another deal with that man.

  “Wanna give me a run-down of what a duke's daughter is doing in some suspicious alleyway alone?” Ferys asked with more curiosity than concern—the girl didn’t seem shaken, so she didn’t feel that bad about it.

  Her fierce gaze grew even sharper at hearing the words ‘duke’s daughter.’ “How did you know?” She moved in closer, scanning Ferys up and down with an intense look—it almost felt like some sort of revenge for Ferys’ earlier inspection.

  Ferys took a step closer in turn, noticing—frustratingly—that the girl was slightly taller than herself. “You thought I was sent by your father, you look like the duke, and most importantly, you are probably the only half-elf in all of Starfen.” Neither mage averted their gaze—locked in an incessant staredown without any sign of either mage backing down. “I answered your question, now answer mine.” The tip of her tail flicked in irritation.

  Somehow managing to look even more annoying, the girl answered, “I needed practice dummies to test a new spell, and so I thought I might as well help the people out by getting rid of the thugs running the back-alleys. Win-win scenario.” Completely ignoring the part about a duke’s daughter running around sketchy alleyways without any guards.

  “You didn’t seem to be in such a winning scenario.” A slight grin grew on Ferys’ face.

  The remark caught the girl off guard, her fierce gaze finally dropped and she looked away flustered—the staredown had been won—but her composure returned swiftly. “Those low-life thugs had some… unexpected connections. I believe they’re a cover for the Order of Dusk.”

  “Order of Dusk…” The name was vaguely familiar—it sounded important—but Ferys rarely cared for things unrelated to increasing her mana pool.

  “It’s not matter you should concern yourself with anyway, my father will root them out as soon as he hears of this anyhow.” She abruptly ended the conversation there, turning to leave the alleyway—No introduction given and no ‘thanks for saving me’.

  “Well, that was odd,” Ferys muttered to herself, following the girl back onto the streets.

  The streets' atmosphere had lost its earlier calmness, but nothing had actually changed—the whole ordeal had only been a couple of minutes. But wasting nearly all her mana without any potions had made her uneasy—her pace hastened noticeably.

  As she turned the last corner, her attention was immediately drawn towards The Gilded Mantle’s extravagant architecture, which made it impossible to miss—it was a building that would stand out even among the capital's most renowned guild halls.

  Just as her admiration for the building waned, a golden-haired girl hurried in through the large front door. Ferys followed soon after. But inside, the girl was nowhere to be seen—she’d already fled somewhere into the back of the building.

  The guild hall's entrance matched the outside's overly extravagant nature—expensive artifacts lined the walls on glass pedestals, and large chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Near the entrance stood an expensive-looking desk accompanied by an older gentleman.

  He stepped forward with the usual merchant’s smile, “Greetings, dear valued customer.”

  “I’m looking for a large supply of mana potions, preferably mid-tier quality,” Ferys went straight to the point—she wasn’t really in the mood for small talk—today had been enough of a headache already. “If you inform Duke Caelthorne that it's Ferys buying, there should be a discount available.”

  “Understood, Lady Ferys. I’ll inform the duke at once—luckily, he just arrived. I’ll be just a moment.” The man promptly left to inform the duke of her arrival.

  She winced thinking about the ‘Lady’ title the man had added to her name—no matter how much she interacted with nobility, it was something she’d never get used to hearing.

  A minute later, the man returned and led her to one of the meeting rooms where the duke was already seated. Beside him sat the blonde girl from earlier. She gave Ferys an annoyed look and began to stand.

  The duke stopped her. “Charlotte, this could be very beneficial for you. I’d like you to stay here.”

  “Understood, father.”

  Contrary to her dignified manner of acting toward her father, she shot Ferys another look—this time more threatening than simply annoyed—trying to intimidate her into not exposing the girl's secret outing.

  Ferys debated whether the girl’s wrath would be worth a potentially larger discount, but if she ever took over the business, her permanent discount likely wouldn’t be so permanent anymore.

  “I’ve been waiting for you, Ferys. I have a special offer for you this time. I’ll give you a hundred mid-tier potions for free.” A merchant-like grin grew across the duke's face.

  Like a merchant would ever give something away for free.

  “And I have to do what exactly?” She didn’t even try to mask the suspicion in her voice.

  “Take Charlotte here as an apprentice.”

  “...” Both Ferys and Charlotte looked at the duke in complete bewilderment.

  Can’t I just fight another dragon instead?