The tension within the Adventurer's Guild hall still hung thick like dense fog, even after the doors had been thrown wide open. Dozens of adventurers remained rooted to their spots, none daring to step outside.
However, Lorien Caldwell had not achieved 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, which could eventually detonate into rebellion. He needed to employ a classic tactic: the Carrot and the Stick.
Now that the stick of a lethal threat had been dropped, it was time to offer the sweet carrot.
Lorien smiled, a warm expression that was a complete 180-degree turn from the killing intent he had exuded mere minutes ago. He untied a leather pouch from his belt and tossed it onto the guild tavern's counter. It landed with the heavy, unmistakable clink of metal.
"Fellow adventurers of Wealden!" Lorien called out in a loud, amicable voice. "There is no need to prolong this tension! 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 tightly bottled up within the adventurers' chests melted away immediately, swept clean by the promise of free alcohol and meat.
Deafening cheers of sheer joy erupted.
The clinking of wooden beer mugs resumed, ringing through the air. They praised Lorien's generosity and chanted the name of The Gilded Falcons, entirely forgetting that the man had just threatened to sever their heads from their necks.
From a dimly lit corner of the room, Alphonse observed the emotional transition coldly. Highly efficient political maneuvering, he admitted internally. He controls the emotional state of this room like a conductor leading an orchestra.
Amidst the intoxicating noise of the celebration, Vrischil's sharp auditory senses successfully filtered out a conversation from The Gilded Falcons' table not far from them.
Lorien leaned toward Aeliana, lowering his voice. His arrogant demeanor was gone, replaced by the refined manners of a true knight.
"Lady Aeliana," Lorien spoke gently. "I offer my deepest apologies for claiming you as an asset of House Caldwell without requesting your permission first. But please believe me, it was the only way."
"If those greedy nobles learned of your Hero-tier Talent, they would employ any underhanded means necessary to kidnap you and lock you away within their territories," he explained convincingly.
Aeliana, the blonde Elven mage, casually swirled her wooden mug. She smiled faintly, her eyes radiating innocence.
"It is not a problem, Lord Lorien," Aeliana replied lightly. "I left the Silverleaf Forest purely out of curiosity. I wish to see the outside world. This Talent is merely a blessing from Yggdrasil. If taking refuge beneath the wings of the Caldwell family can grant me the security to travel the world, then I gladly accept your offer."
Overhearing the conversation, Arcus, standing beside Alphonse, nudged his Guild Master's arm.
"Boss," Arcus whispered conspiratorially. "That Elf holds the destiny blueprint of an [ArchMage]. Should we snatch her from Lorien's grasp and make her our own member? Imagine the sheer destructive potential she will possess in the future."
Alphonse didn't need to think twice. His eyes lingered on Aeliana for a brief moment before returning to the mission board.
"No," Alphonse rejected the idea in a cold, unwavering tone. His logic instantly dissected the situation. "No matter how great her potential is, it remains a potential that will only bloom in the future. The current reality is that she is only equivalent to a Level 21."
Alphonse glanced at Lorien, who was laughing with his party members.
"Dragging along a low-level mage who is currently the absolute center of attention... that is the equivalent of tying a dead weight around our necks. We need to move quickly and operate from the shadows, not become targets of a manhunt purely for the sake of 'potential'."
Arcus clicked his tongue but offered no argument. The three of them then shifted toward the massive wooden Quest board mounted on the wall.
Alphonse read the parchment scrolls pinned there, recalling the guild's structure.
As newly registered Iron-plate adventurers, they sat at the lowest caste. Guild law mandated that they complete ten Iron-tier missions first—trivial tasks usually commissioned by city residents—before they were permitted to take the promotion exam for the Bronze tier.
Arcus's blue eyes sparkled as he read the list of missions: Clearing Gutter Rat Infestations, Gathering 20 Stalks of Medicinal Herbs, Hunting Forest Slimes.
The isekai hero soul within Arcus's chest screamed to be unleashed. He looked at Alphonse with a pitiful, theatrical expression.
"Boss!" Arcus whined in a half-whisper, clenching his fists against his chest. "This is a brand new world! The call of adventure is screaming out to my dark knight soul! We must start our legend from the very bottom, crawling through the mud, slicing through monsters, and climbing the ladder of glory step by grueling step!"
Vrischil, standing on the other side, immediately let out a sharp scoff. She crossed her arms over her chest, radiating an aura of absolute rejection.
With her combat-gloved index finger, Vrischil tapped harshly on the payout listed on the herb-gathering mission parchment.
Ten copper coins.
"Our time is far too valuable to be spent playing as grass-pickers and rat exterminators," Vrischil hissed, delivering a piercing argument.
"Ten copper coins? That isn't even enough to buy that tough roast meat you ate last night, Arcus. If our goal is to accumulate funds and resources, acting as merchants or building a faction's power makes infinitely more sense than playing in the gutter mud."
Alphonse remained silent. He didn't answer immediately.
His eyes swept over the sea of adventurers laughing drunkenly around them, celebrating the free beer Lorien had tossed out like breadcrumbs to pigeons. He recalled how the name of House Caldwell and a Platinum badge were capable of suppressing dozens of armed men without a fight.
In this world, individual strength was undeniably important, but capital, authority, and hierarchy were the universal languages everyone understood.
Alphonse looked at Arcus with golden eyes as sharp as a razor.
"Vrischil is correct," Alphonse decided firmly. "I did not come to this world to be a lowly pawn that can be stepped on by nobles simply because I have an iron plate on my chest. We will not crawl out of this city's sewers."
Hearing the final verdict, Arcus lowered his head in disappointment, letting out a long sigh as he mourned the destruction of his epic hero scenario. Despite that, his logical ego thoroughly understood his Guild Master's point.
"However, before we make our move, we must utilize this current situation to its fullest," Alphonse said, pivoting the strategy. "Lorien just opened the tap for free information. Let us eat."
Rather than leaving immediately on an empty stomach, the trio decided to grab wooden trays filled with bread, smoked meat, and drinks provided completely free of charge by the guild tavern. They sat at a round table in the most secluded corner of the room.
While chewing their food in silence, they let their auditory senses work overtime, filtering hundreds of conversations from the tables of adventurers who were beginning to lose their senses to alcohol. A drunk adventurer was the finest source of intelligence.
They successfully netted three primary rumors from that chaotic ocean of chatter:
First, naturally, were the repetitive murmurs of awe regarding Aeliana's Hero Talent legend and the immense power of House Caldwell.Second, and slightly more concerning, several adventurer parties were complaining about an anomaly in the Eastern Forest. The monsters on the outskirts were acting erratically, seemingly terrified, and migrating deeper into the woods, making hunting incredibly difficult.Third, and this was what made Alphonse's ears ring. A group of adventurers at a nearby table was swearing profusely, complaining about the policies of the Magic Tower. They cursed how the institution had suddenly hiked the prices of Magic Scrolls without any clear reason, choking the adventurers' supplies.
Hearing the words 'Magic Scroll' and 'monopoly', Alphonse's instincts flared.
He stood up from the table and intercepted a drunken adventurer who happened to be staggering past them.
"Excuse me, friend," Alphonse greeted amiably, employing a classic excuse with a faint smile. "I am new to this city. Could you point me toward the Magic Tower you were all just discussing?"
The drunk adventurer squinted, then pointed a 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 slurred, his breath reeking of thick ale. "That's the Wealden Magic Tower. Those old bastards there monopolize the entire trade of mana stones, magic scrolls, magical artifacts, and spellbooks. If you need magical gear... you've got no choice but to buy from them at extortionate prices."
Alphonse smiled genuinely. "Thank you for the information. Enjoy your drink, friend."
He let the adventurer go, then turned back to look at Arcus and Vrischil. Their next target had been locked in with absolute clarity. A central hub of cash flow, artifacts, and magical monopoly.
"Let's go," Alphonse commanded.
He stood up, adjusting his monocle. Followed by a re-energized Arcus and a soundless Vrischil, the three of them walked out, leaving the noise of the Guild Hall behind, navigating the city streets toward the shadow of the Wealden Magic Tower.
The structure loomed arrogantly, piercing the sky of Wealden City. The Magic Tower, with its distinct blue conical roof, radiated a faint magical aura that made the surrounding air vibrate.
Alphonse, Arcus, and Vrischil halted their steps right at the base of the wide stone stairs leading to the tower's main gates.
Two neatly uniformed guards bearing the emblem of a magic wand on their chests stood blocking the path. The appearance of these guards was significantly cleaner and more disciplined than 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 present your identification cards. This is standard procedure to enter our facilities."
Without a word, Alphonse produced his Iron plate from beneath his cloak, followed by Arcus and Vrischil.
The guard received the three metal plates. His eyes registered the iron material, symbolizing the lowest caste of adventurers. However, as he looked up to return the plates, his movements froze for a second.
The guard was struck by profound confusion. He stared at the bespectacled man before him, who radiated the authority and absolute composure of a ruler.
Beside him, a blonde man stood with his chin held high, wearing polished leather shoes that likely cost the equivalent of the guard's annual salary. And the third, hooded figure exuded an ice-cold aura that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
There was an incredibly bizarre contrast between the dominant auras these three possessed and the Iron-tier adventurer identities in their hands.
With a hint of hesitation but brimming with respect, the guard bowed his head slightly lower than usual. "T-Thank you for your cooperation. Please enter, My Lords."
As they stepped past the carved wooden main gates, their expectations of a silent library filled with elderly mages instantly vanished.
The first floor of the Wealden Magic Tower welcomed them with bustling chaos. This place did not feel like a sacred magical facility in the slightest; rather, it resembled a city hall or a banking concourse packed with the economic activities of civilians.
The scent of fresh parchment, ink, and stone dust mingled in the air. Dozens of long counters were neatly lined up on the left and right sides of the room.
City residents, merchants, and craftsmen queued patiently in front of these counters. The continuous clinking of coins and the hum of haggling echoed endlessly.
Alphonse's analytical eyes immediately went to work scanning the ongoing transactions. He walked slowly past the queues, focusing his hearing and vision on one of the exchange counters.
There, a fabric merchant was exchanging his coins for a small, dimly glowing stone.
"One low-tier Mana Stone. The total is one silver coin," the counter clerk stated in a monotonous tone, handing over the stone.
Alphonse touched his chin, a smile forming on his lips. This simple fact provided him with a highly crucial economic baseline for the Orion world.
If a single silver coin could only purchase one low-tier Mana Stone, it meant that magic had become an integrated, daily necessity within this civilization—likely used to power crystal streetlamps or operate weaving looms.
However, the price of one silver coin for a single stone was a rather exorbitant sum for an ordinary commoner. The cash flow in this place was massive. The monopoly on energy in this city was an incredibly 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 beneath his cloak and let his natural charisma take over.
"Excuse me," Alphonse greeted, his tone calm and smooth, yet demanding attention. "Does this tower not sell Mana Stones of a higher quality? I do not see them displayed in any of these showcases."
"Of course we have them, Sir. However, this ground floor only handles low-tier Mana Stone transactions to fulfill the daily necessities of the civilians," the guard explained proudly, as if showing off the grandeur of his workplace.
"The structure of this tower is divided very specifically. If you are looking for Magic Scrolls for combat and practical purposes, you can head up to the 2nd Floor."
"For various Magic Items and artifacts, they are located on the 3rd Floor. Then, the 4th Floor is the place for those wishing to purchase magic spellbooks, as well as serving as the official venue for mage qualification exams."
The guard lowered his voice slightly, giving off an air of exclusivity.
"As for the high-purity Mana Stones you inquired about, they are only available on the 5th Floor. That place is a dedicated gathering floor for Mages, as well as a trading hub for exclusive goods."
"Access there is strictly limited to recognized mages or nobles. And of course, the peak of the tower above it is the tightly sealed private residence of the Wealden Tower Master."
Having acquired this information, Alphonse expressed his gratitude with a slight nod. He turned around, looking at Arcus and Vrischil, who were waiting for him in silence.