Alari waited in anticipation, looking from one adventurer to another. Maeve, the short acrobatic woman, seemed disappointed, and Alari thought she was going to object. That worry quickly evaporated when she seemed to make a coin appear from nowhere and deftly flicked it to a smug Elias. No one voiced any objections, and with that, Alari was now an adventurer.

  “Welcome to the Silver Blades,” Elias proclaimed.

  “Silver Blades?” Alari asked.

  “It's the name of our group. Lia and I are members of the Sirel family, and our wealth came from silver and adventuring, and we also have a rank of silver,” Roland explained.

  During the explanations, Lia had come down and was quietly sipping on a goblet of wine. Judging by her expression, it wasn’t up to her standards.

  “Lia, if your mana has recovered, could you finish healing Alari?” Elias asked. When Alari gave him a flat stare, he quickly added, “Now that you are a part of the team, her services are complimentary. Of course, anything you can do to help the group is also expected to be free of charge.”

  Despite not objecting to his inclusion, Lia still had the same flat expression. “Lift your shirt,” she demanded.

  “Excuse me?” Alari asked in confusion.

  She sighed. “I’d rather not touch you either, but it's much more mana efficient when I’m touching the injury.” Alari nodded; his own spells worked the same way.

  Alari did as she ordered. His skin had healed over, but he still felt a sharp pain with each movement. She reached out, her icy cold hands touching his abdomen where the blade had impaled him. There was an awkward pause, as nothing seemed to happen. A moment later, he felt an itch and a warmth flowing throughout his torso, followed by uncontrolled spasms in his abs. After that subsided, the pain was gone, and Lia left the room.

  “Did I do something to offend her?” Alari asked.

  “My sister is slow to trust strangers. She’ll come around, eventually, assuming you don’t do anything to earn her ire,” Roland explained.

  “How would I do that?” Alari asked, genuinely confused.

  “Just don’t be a pig,” Maeve said unhelpfully.

  “So, Alari. What do you need to be more effective? We’ve never had a mage in the party before,” Elias said, obviously trying to change the subject.

  Alari took a moment to consider. A wand or staff would significantly improve his spellcasting. He would also need precious metals and gemstones for enchanting, as well as mana-infused metals for his artificing. Really, he wanted samples of any magical substance so he could study them and eventually make more with Transmute.

  When he voiced his request, Elias just laughed. “Somehow, I don’t think this village will have any of that. I was thinking more immediately practical items before we go on our next delve. Do you have any preferences for arms and armor?”

  “Do mages typically wear armor and wield weapons?” Alari asked.

  “The ones that survive do,” Roland said with a chuckle.

  “I’m not sure; I’ve never really used either,” Alari admitted.

  “We’re not expecting you to be a weapons master suddenly. We just want you to hopefully fend something off long enough for one of us to help you,” Roland explained.

  “Why don’t you take him to the blacksmith and see if he has any army surplus gear that would fit him with minimal adjustments. Nothing custom; we’re leaving first thing tomorrow,” Elias ordered.

  With that decided, he and Roland left the inn, and a moment later, Maeve followed after them. “So, farm boy, how did you become a mage?” she asked as they walked through the quiet town.

  “I’m not a boy,” he growled.

  “I suppose not,” she said, sounding a bit annoyed. Roland coughed and held out his hand, palm up. Maeve sighed and flicked him a gold coin.

  Seeing his confusion, Roland explained, “She still calls Bashir hunter boy. I bet her a gold you would object before Bashir did.”

  Despite hemorrhaging gold, Maeve seemed unbothered. “So, Alari, how did you get your Class?”

  “No idea. The system works in mysterious ways,” he said with a shrug.

  “That's an interesting way of putting it,” Roland said, mulling over his words.

  “So what about you, Maeve? How did you become an adventurer? Were you an acrobat or dancer?” Alari asked.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Both Maeve and Roland laughed. “Do I strike you as some street performer?” she asked.

  “I just heard stories about their balance and agility, something you seem to have plenty of,” he pointed out.

  “Think more rooftops and windows, and you have the right idea,” Roland added. Maeve glared at him, but there was no malice in it.

  “A thief?” Alari asked.

  “I preferred the term burglar. Think more upscale, scaling walls and sneaking past guards rather than cutting purses and pick pocketing change,” she said, sounding almost proud of her criminal past.

  Before Alari could ask more questions, they arrived at the blacksmith. Unfortunately, the burly man didn’t have much armor in stock, and nothing that would fit him. Fortunately, there were plenty of weapons to choose from, though most appeared to be damaged military equipment that the smith was in the process of repairing. Alari selected one of the worst-looking pieces, a standard-issue shortsword that had a dull edge and was noticeably warped from use. He also chose a knife with a chipped edge. Finally, to everyone's confusion, he bought several kilograms of scrap metal. When Roland looked at him, clearly questioning his decisions, Alari just pointed to himself and mouthed ‘mage’.

  They also stopped at the tailor’s shop and purchased some better-fitting, more durable clothes. Roland explained it wasn’t purely a vanity purchase, as his current outfit would slow him down. He was given two sets of fine linen clothing, similar in material to what he had sold the day before. They also purchased a gambeson, a quilted jacket made from numerous layers of linen. Despite being mostly cloth, it weighed about four kilos and felt stiff, bulky, and hot. The fit wasn’t quite right, as it went down to his knees and the sleeves covered his hands. Despite the flaws, he was happy to have it; the agony of his recent stabbing still weighed heavily on his mind. With a few extra coins, the tailor agreed to have the items ready for him the next day, after making some minor alterations to improve the fit.

  Next, they stopped at the leatherworker’s shop and purchased a pair of well-made boots, a backpack, and several waterskins. As with the tailor, the purchase was paid for in gold, and each time Roland handed over coins, they seemed like insignificant change.

  “Thank you,” Alari said earnestly after they finished their latest purchases.

  “Don’t thank me, these coins will come out of your share of the next delve,” Roland pointed out.

  Alari must have looked mortified, because Maeve quickly added, “Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty to cover your debts and then some. Delving is a lucrative if dangerous venture.”

  He reminded himself that even in the worst case, transmutation could cover almost any expenses. Even so, it was a stark difference from the life he had been living just days ago.

  Alari thought they were done, but Roland pointed out they would need some miscellaneous supplies for a sixth person, so they headed to the general store. When Alari entered, the balding merchant looked visibly shocked to see him. Roland and Maeve immediately picked up the strange body language.

  “Surprised to see our companion?” Roland questioned, his typical affable nature replaced with venom.

  “Companion?” the man asked in a shaky voice.

  “This man is a member of the Silver Blades,” Maeve explained, eyeing the man warily.

  “I had no idea,” he said, sounding almost pleading.

  “What is going on?” Alari asked, confused at the turn of events.

  “Bandits this far lightward makes no sense, especially when the only valuable targets are military supply caravans, something the men we fought had no chance against. They would go weeks, if not months, before a suitable target would wander by. That isn’t something they could survive off of. However, if they lived and worked in the village as laborers, and someone told them about convenient opportunities…” Roland explained, staring right at the now visibly shaking man.

  The man must have realized he had no chance of convincing them, because he tried to run. Maeve moved so fast she practically blurred. A dagger materialized from nowhere, and she slashed in a single deft motion. The man stared uncomprehendingly, then reached for his throat. His attempt to stave off death was futile as a pool of crimson spread across the floorboards. He was dead a moment later.

  Maeve twirled her knife, seemingly unbothered by the murder she had just committed. It happened so fast that Alari didn’t have time to object. Would he have objected? The man had tried to have him killed for a few coppers, and he likely hadn’t been the first victim.

  “Why didn’t we arrest him?” Alari asked, his mind still whirling.

  “Why would we? We aren’t the town guards,” Maeve said, seemingly perplexed by the question.

  “Shouldn’t he have had a trial?” Alari asked.

  “A trial, like with a magistrate, why?” she asked.

  “To determine if he was guilty and get a fair sentencing,” Alari pointed out.

  “Alari, there isn’t a magistrate in this village. The closest one is likely in Lanika, and he would have just asked us what happened. The end result would be the same,” Roland said.

  “Except the magistrate would have been annoyed for having wasted his time, and we would have wasted several days for no reason,” Maeve added.

  Alari shook his head even as he nodded. He looked at the dead man, the finality of his stillness almost surreal. It didn’t seem possible that this was the same person he had just been speaking with.

  “Alari, are you ok?” Roland asked after Alari didn’t respond.

  “I’ve never seen anyone die before. It’s a bit unsettling,” he said simply. His stomach roiled, as if agreeing with the sentiment, and a moment later, he started vomiting the meager contents of his stomach. It continued until there was nothing left, then a bit more. When it was finally done, his companions looked at him with pity.

  “Sorry, I forgot you're just a kid who has lived in an isolated area; you seem much older than that sometimes,” Maeve said apologetically.

  “Why don’t you go back to the inn? We can pick out everything you will need,” Roland said. Alari vacantly nodded, eager to be away.

  As he walked back, he couldn’t help but think of the creepy adventurer he had met years ago. Now that he saw what adventurers could do with impunity, his parents' inaction made more sense. The casual nature with which they dealt death was terrifying. He could only blame the lack of institutions that could check their power. Maeve hadn’t been wrong to kill the merchant; he was undoubtedly a murderer. However, he couldn’t help but think of how easy that power was to abuse. Unfortunately, he saw no easy solution.