The tension inside the Adventurer's Guild hall still hung thick like heavy fog, even after the doors were thrown wide open. Dozens of adventurers remained rooted to their spots, none daring to step outside.
However, Lorien Caldwell did not achieve the Platinum rank by relying solely on the strength of his sword. He profoundly understood the art of mass manipulation. Applying pressure for too long without offering relief would only breed resentment that could explode into rebellion. He needed the classic tactic: the Carrot and the Stick.
After the stick of threats had been dropped, it was now time to offer the sweet carrot.
Lorien smiled, a friendly smile that was a full 180-degree turn from the killing intent he had radiated minutes ago. He untied a leather pouch from his belt and tossed it onto the guild tavern keeper's counter with a heavy metallic clink.
"Fellow Wealden adventurers!" Lorien exclaimed in a loud and amicable voice. "Today is a historic day for our city. To celebrate Lady Aeliana joining The Gilded Falcons, all food and ale in this hall... is on me!"
The effect was instantaneous.
The fear and anger that had been pent up in the adventurers' chests instantly melted away, wiped clean by the promise of free alcohol and meat.
Deafening cheers of joy erupted.
"UWOOO..."
"Long live The Gilded Falcons!..."
The clinking of wooden beer mugs clashed in the air once more. They praised Lorien's generosity and hailed the name of The Gilded Falcons, entirely forgetting that the man had just threatened to sever their heads.
From a dim corner of the room, Alphonse observed that emotional transition coldly. Not bad, he admitted inwardly. He controls the emotions of this room like a conductor leading an orchestra.
Amidst the noise of the intoxicating celebration, Vrischil's sharp hearing managed to filter out the conversation from The Gilded Falcons' table not far from them.
Lorien leaned in toward Aeliana, lowering his voice. His arrogance had vanished, replaced by the manners of a true knight.
"Lady Aeliana," Lorien said softly. "I apologize profusely for claiming you as an asset of House Caldwell without asking for your permission first. But believe me, it was the only way."
"If the greedy nobles knew about your Hero-tier Aptitude, they would use any dirty trick to kidnap and confine you in their territories," he explained convincingly.
Aeliana, the blonde Elf, swirled her wooden mug casually. She smiled faintly, her eyes radiating innocence.
"It is not a problem, Sir Lorien," Aeliana answered lightly. "I left the Silverleaf Forest out of curiosity. I wished to see the outside world. This aptitude is merely a blessing from Sylvegard. If taking shelter beneath the wings of the Caldwell family can grant me the safety to travel the world, then I gladly accept your offer."
Hearing that conversation, Arcus, who stood beside Alphonse, nudged Alphonse's arm.
"Alphonse," Arcus whispered in a conspiratorial tone. "Aeliana holds the aptitude of an [ArchMage]. Should we snatch her from Lorien's hands and make her our own member? Imagine her destructive potential in the future."
Alphonse did not need to think twice. His eyes looked at Aeliana briefly before returning to the mission board.
"No," Alphonse rejected with a cold voice devoid of hesitation. "No matter how good her potential is, it remains merely a potential that will only bloom in the future. The current reality is, she is only equivalent to Level 21."
Alphonse glanced at Lorien, who was laughing with his party members.
"Bringing along a low-level mage who is currently the center of attention... that is the same as hanging dead weight around our necks. We need to move swiftly in the shadows, not become targets of a manhunt purely for the sake of an Aptitude."
Arcus clicked his tongue, but he did not argue. The three of them then shifted toward the large wooden quest board mounted on the wall.
Alphonse read the parchment scrolls pinned there, recalling the guild's information.
As newly registered Iron-plate adventurers, they were at the lowest caste. Guild laws required them to complete ten Iron-rank missions first—trivial tasks usually commissioned by city residents—before being permitted to take the promotion exam for the Bronze rank.
Arcus's blue eyes sparkled as he read the list of missions: Clear the Sewer Rat Infestation, Forage 20 Medicinal Herbs, Hunt Forest Slimes.
The soul of an isekai hero within Arcus's chest screamed to be released. He looked at Alphonse with a pleading expression.
"Alphonse!" Arcus whined in a half-whisper, clenching his hands over his chest. "This is a new world! The call to adventure is screaming for my soul! We must begin our legend from the bottom, crawl through the mud, cleave through monsters, and climb the ladder of glory step by step!"
Vrischil, standing on the other side, immediately snorted sharply. she crossed her arms over her chest.
With her index finger, Vrischil tapped forcefully on the payout figure listed on the medicinal herb gathering quest parchment.
Ten copper coins.
"Our time is too valuable to become weed pickers and sewer rat exterminators," Vrischil hissed with a piercing argument.
"Ten copper coins? That isn't even enough to buy the tough roasted meat you ate last night, Arcus. If our goal is to gather funds and resources, becoming merchants or building a faction makes far more sense than playing in the mud in the sewers."
Alphonse fell silent. He did not answer immediately.
His eyes swept over the sea of adventurers around him who were laughing drunkenly, celebrating the free beer tossed by Lorien like breadcrumbs to pigeons. He recalled how the name of House Caldwell and a Platinum badge were capable of suppressing dozens of armed men into submission.
In this world, individual strength was indeed important, but capital, authority, and hierarchy were the languages everyone understood.
Alphonse looked at Arcus with golden eyes as sharp as razors.
"Vrischil is correct," Alphonse decided firmly. "I did not come to this world to be a lowly pawn stepped on by nobles simply because of an iron plate rank on my chest. We will not crawl from the sewers of this city."
Hearing that final decision, Arcus bowed his head in disappointment, letting out a long sigh lamenting the ruin of his epic hero scenario. Even so, he perfectly understood Alphonse's point.
"However, before we make our move, we must utilize this situation to the fullest," Alphonse said, turning the tables. "Lorien has just opened the tap of information for free. Let us eat."
Rather than leaving immediately with empty stomachs, the three decided to grab trays filled with bread, smoked meat, and drinks provided free of charge by the guild tavern. They sat at a round table in the quietest corner of the room.
While chewing their food in silence, they let their sharp hearing go to work, filtering dozens of conversations from the tables of adventurers beginning to lose their consciousness to alcohol. A drunk adventurer was the best source of intelligence.
They managed to net three primary rumors from that sea of chaotic chatter.
First, naturally, were the repetitive clucks of awe regarding the legend of Aeliana's Hero Aptitude and the immense power of House Caldwell.
Second, slightly more concerning. Several adventurer groups complained about anomalies in the Eastern Forest—monsters in the outer regions were acting strangely, as if terrified and migrating deeper, making hunting incredibly difficult.
Third, this was what made Alphonse's ears ring. A group of adventurers at the opposite table were cursing roughly, complaining about the policies of the Magic Tower. They cursed how the institution had suddenly raised the price of Magic Scrolls without clear reason, choking the adventurers' supplies.
Hearing the words 'Magic Scroll', Alphonse took the bait.
He stood up from his table and intercepted a drunk adventurer who happened to stagger by near them.
"Excuse me, friend," Alphonse greeted amiably, using a classic excuse with a faint smile. "I am new to this city. Could you tell me where the Magic Tower you were discussing is located?"
The drunk adventurer squinted, then pointed with his trembling finger toward the large window on the side of the hall.
"Y-you see... that tall stone tower with the blue conical roof?" the adventurer babbled, his breath reeking of thick alcohol. "That's the Wealden Magic Tower. The old bastards there monopolize the entire trade of mana stones, magic scrolls, magical artifacts, and spellbooks. If you need magical equipment... you have no choice but to buy from them at exorbitant prices."
Alphonse smiled sincerely. "Thank you for the information. Resume your drinking, friend."
He released the adventurer, then turned back to look at Arcus and Vrischil.
Their next target was locked on with absolute clarity. A hub of currency circulation, artifacts, and magical monopoly.
"Let us go," Alphonse commanded.
He stood up, adjusting his monocle. Followed by a re-energized Arcus and a soundless Vrischil, the three walked out, leaving the noise of the Guild Hall, navigating the city streets toward the shadow of the Wealden Magic Tower.
The building towered, piercing the sky of Wealden City. The Magic Tower, with its blue conical roof, radiated a thin magical aura that vibrated the air around it.
Alphonse, Arcus, and Vrischil halted their steps right in front of the wide stone stairs leading to the tower's main gates.
Two neatly uniformed guards bearing the emblem of a magic staff on their chests stood blocking the path. The appearance of these guards was far cleaner and more disciplined compared to the city soldiers patrolling the streets.
"Welcome to the Wealden Magic Tower," one of the guards greeted politely yet firmly. He extended his hand. "Please show your identification cards. This is standard procedure to enter our facilities."
Without a word, Alphonse pulled out his Iron plate from beneath his cloak, followed by Arcus and Vrischil.
The guard received the three metal plates. His eyes looked at the iron material symbolizing the lowest caste of adventurers. However, as he raised his face to return the plates, his movement paused for a moment.
The guard was confused. He looked at the bespectacled man before him who radiated the authority and composure of a noble.
Beside him, a blonde man stood with his chin held high, wearing polished dress shoes whose price was likely equivalent to the guard's annual salary. And the third hooded figure emitted an ice-cold aura that made his neck hairs stand on end.
There was an incredibly bizarre contrast between the dominant auras the three of them possessed and the Iron-tier adventurer identities in their hands.
With slight hesitation yet full of respect, the guard bowed his head a bit lower than usual. "T-thank you for your cooperation. Please enter, My Lords."
As soon as they stepped past the main gates, the image of a silent library filled with old mages instantly vanished.
The first floor of the Wealden Magic Tower welcomed them with a bustling commotion. This place did not feel like a sacred magical facility at all; rather, it resembled a city hall or a bank lobby packed with the economic activities of civilians.
The scent of new parchment, ink, and stone dust mingled in the air. Dozens of long counters were lined up neatly on the left and right sides of the room.
City residents, merchants, and crafters queued patiently in front of those counters. The clinking sound of coins and continuous haggling buzzed incessantly.
Alphonse's eyes immediately went to work scanning the transactions taking place. He walked slowly past the queues, focusing his hearing and sight on one of the exchange counters.
There, a fabric merchant was exchanging his coins for a small, dimly glowing stone.
"One low-grade Mana Stone. That will be one silver coin in total," the counter clerk said in a monotonous tone, handing over the stone.
Alphonse touched his chin, a smile forming on his lips. This simple fact provided him with an incredibly crucial economic baseline in the world of Orion.
If one silver coin could only buy one low-grade Mana Stone, it meant magic had become a daily necessity integrated into this civilization—perhaps to light the crystal lamps on the streets or power weaving looms.
However, the price of one silver coin for one stone was quite an expensive nominal for ordinary commoners. The circulation of money in this place was extremely rapid. The energy monopoly in this city was a highly lucrative business.
To dig deeper, Alphonse shifted his gaze and approached a tower guard standing not far from the main pillar. He hid his Iron adventurer identity behind his cloak and let his natural charisma do the work.
"Excuse me," Alphonse greeted in a calm, flowing voice that commanded attention. "Does this tower not sell higher-quality Mana Stones? I do not see them anywhere."
The guard turned his head. Influenced by Alphonse's elegant aura and posture, he answered very politely, as if speaking to a noble in disguise.
"Of course we have them, My Lord. However, this ground floor only serves low-grade Mana Stone transactions to fulfill the daily needs of the civilians," the guard explained proudly, as if showing off the grandeur of his workplace. "The structure of this tower is divided specifically. If you are looking for Magic Scrolls for combat and practical purposes, you may go up to the 2nd Floor. For various Magic Items and artifacts, the place is on the 3rd Floor. Then, the 4th Floor is for those seeking to purchase magic spellbooks, and it also serves as the official location for conducting qualification assessment exams for mages."
The guard lowered his voice slightly, giving an air of exclusivity.
"As for the high-purity Mana Stones you asked about, those are only available on the 5th Floor. That place is an exclusive gathering floor for Mages as well as a trading center for exclusive goods. Access there is restricted only to recognized mages or nobles. And of course, the peak of the tower above that is the heavily guarded private residence of the Wealden Tower Master."
Having obtained the information, Alphonse thanked him with a slight nod. He turned around, looking at Arcus and Vrischil who were waiting for him in silence.