Waking up, Robert quickly got up and dressed. This middle-aged man with an extremely muscular and developed body was used to rising before sunrise from his time in the army. Although he was no longer an army mage, military discipline didn't just vanish, so every morning the adventurer was accustomed to starting his day alone, occupying himself until everyone else woke up. However, this didn't bother Robert much, as he lived alone in a rented room on the second floor of the tavern, and the thought of lying in bed and lazing around never crossed his mind. He was a man of action, and the mere idea of wasting time drove him crazy.

Thus, Robert began his day as usual: with exercise. Keeping the body in shape was crucial if you wanted to live longer, especially for an adventurer. When the mage finished with the exercises that could be done without leaving the room to avoid sitting idle, he set about repairing the wardrobe: its doors closed with visible effort, clearly not fitting properly. This didn't bother Robert himself, but he took on any task when there was a spare moment. After a while, the job was finally done, and the satisfied adventurer descended into the tavern. After greeting the patrons and the tavern owner, and having a hearty meal, he went outside. Technically, it was a day off, but as the leader of the squad, he remained so even during off-duty hours, so he had to visit the members of his squad, check that everything was in order with them, that they didn't need his help, and only then attend to his own affairs. So the adventurer set off on his way.

First on the visit list was Klein – Robert needed to assess the items obtained, and this was done by the priests of Aroniss in the temple. The town where the adventurers lived was very small, so there was only one temple of the Blind Lord, and it was its abbot who had taken in the orphan who became a paladin in their group.

Robert entered the temple and stood against the wall, respectfully bowing his head: he had come during the service and didn't want to disturb the worshipers. Standing at the lectern, the huge figure of the elderly abbot instilled warmth and tranquility, while he himself read the sacred texts, instructing the congregation. On the sides stood novices and priests, assisting the elderly master and praying. Among them stood Klein, openly sniffling. Apparently, even many years of life in the temple couldn't get someone used to early rising.

Robert watched the worshipers, waiting for the end of the service. The mage himself didn't worship Aroniss, but he wasn't an atheist either. Generally, it's difficult to be an atheist when you see miracles sent by the gods in the dungeon every day. Robert believed in the Pantheon, but he didn't consider himself a follower of any deity, as each of them displeased him in some way. For instance, he didn't like the Blind Lord because he disliked the idea that everything in life was decided by the roll of a die. This devalued human effort, sweat, and blood. It tempted people to abandon any effort, go with the flow, saying, "if it's lucky – everything will work out, and if not – then there's no point in trying." This infuriated the former soldier, who was used to achieving everything by his own efforts, without relying on chance.

The Steel Flame didn't appeal to Robert because of its excessive straightforwardness and impulsiveness. All its followers were quick to make decisions, not accustomed to pondering over something for long. The Golden Dragon was too greedy, evaluating any object, even life itself, in terms of gold. The Gates, Soul Counters... The priests of the Gates tended to have a certain fatalism and detachment, and Robert didn't want to look at life and other people like they did. He didn't like this view. And the Gray Herald... Robert didn't even consider worshipping the deity of betrayal and murder.

Finally, the service ended, and the abbot approached the mage at last:

- Hello, my son. Is something troubling you, or do you need another identification miracle?

- Hello, venerable sir. I'm interested in a miracle.

- It's a pity, a pity. You're no longer young, you should think about your soul. If you decide to confess, I'll always be glad. - The priest said with a fatherly smile, and even Robert felt warmer in his heart.

- Thank you, I appreciate it. Perhaps someday, but right now I'm just here for a miracle and to visit Klein.

- Oh, this child... - the old man sighed heavily. - Thank you for keeping an eye on him. Is he causing too many problems?

- No, not at all, holy father. He's a good kid. Impulsive, but good. And as a paladin, I have no complaints about him.

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- True, he's a good boy. Just be a little stricter with him, or he'll relax if you don't kick him. He'll finish cleaning soon, and you can talk, and I'll assess your items in the meantime, alright?

- Oh, - the mage said. - Of course, thank you. But... is Klein supposed to be cleaning now? He seems to have fallen asleep, leaning on the shelf. Holy father, a vein on your forehead has become very visible, is everything alright?

- Yes, yes. Thank you for your concern, my son. Everything's fine. Give me a second, I'll talk to the boy.

If Robert knew the abbot less well, he might have mistakenly thought he was angry, and the tender holy smile only hid his anger, and that Klein wasn't in for anything good. But the mage knew that, of course, it couldn't be like that, as he stood before the most beloved, calm, and wise priest in the country. Meanwhile, the abbot approached Klein, who was drooling on the temple shelf he was supposed to be cleaning, and gently placed his hand on the boy's shoulder.

- My son, are you feeling well? - the priest said tenderly and quietly to the awakened boy. - Is it possible that you slept poorly last night? Wouldn't you like to go out and discuss it?

- W-what? Oh, venerable abbot, I was just... the water on the cloth ran out, so I decided to wet it.

- With drool. How clever and hardworking you are, my dear Klein, how proud I am of you. I'm sorry I thought you fell asleep in God's temple while cleaning it.

- Oh, it's nothing, it happens to everyone... Ow! Master, please, let go, you're about to break my shoulder.

- What are you saying, dear Klein, what are you saying. Let's go outside, let's talk, let's not embarrass the worshipers.

After some time, when Robert finished assessing the value of the items and made sure Klein was fine (the abbot said he wasn't feeling well and they would manage on their own), the mage moved on. He stopped by Isabelle's place, chatted with her for a bit, and learned that the girl planned to spend the whole day sewing and reading. And when she found out that he was going to the market to sell items taken from goblins, she immediately offered her help.

- Thank you, but I think I can manage on my own, - Robert replied. - It seems a bit... not your thing. But thanks for offering.

- Oh, right... - the girl stammered, blushing deeply. Apparently, she remembered their last such outing. Back then, when she tried to negotiate, the first merchant attacked her like a crow, brought her to tears, and forced her to lower the price almost threefold from the fair price, after which the naive druid had to apologize many times for trying to deceive him. - Well... G-good luck!

And Robert left to visit a shop located a few minutes' walk from Isabelle's house. Above the entrance was a beautifully engraved sign that read "Roz's Potions and Herbs." The adventurer stepped inside, immediately facing a pair of blue eyes, their icy gaze assessing him. "Not a hint of customer orientation," thought the mage to himself, smiling and greeting the tiny owner of this sharp gaze who stood behind the counter:

- Good morning, Anya, are you stationed behind the counter today?

- Morning, adventurer. What do you need?

Robert sighed heavily: every time Anya wasn't acting like a haughty child or wasn't cheerful, she was incredibly cold and cruel. And she was only cheerful when she killed someone, which frankly worried her squad leader, he wasn't sure it was normal for a girl her age. He hadn't raised girls himself, so he couldn't say for sure, but still... Oh, and somehow Vasiliy miraculously managed to awaken that little girl in Anya and melt her heart. How did he do it? Robert would ask for help, but the archer lived several hours' ride from the city, so he was the only member of the squad Robert wasn't planning to visit.

- I came to check if everything's alright with you...

- Everything's fine. You can go.

- ...And to sell those mushrooms we gathered in the goblin caves.

- Alright. Silvercaps. I'll take seven silver each.

- Hey, hey, hey, Anya, their market price is eight silver, I know.

- Fine. - The girl rolled her eyes. - Then six and a half.

- Hey, you're lowering the price! You were supposed to raise it!

- I wasn't.

- But...

- Six silver and thirty copper.

- Anya, we're comrades in the squad, - the leader pleaded.

- Six silver. If you're not happy with something, go to another shop. Just, unfortunately, it's on the other side of town, and it's owned by an old crazy lady who won't even understand what you're offering and will just name a random price.

Robert knew this, and he really didn't want to try his luck with Old Gretel. So, reluctantly, he agreed, handing over the quite rare mushrooms for three-quarters of their value.

- Lord, it's all in the mother! - a voice rang out, and behind Anya appeared her father, the owner of this shop, a fine and sensitive man. He looked at his daughter with tears of pride in his eyes, covering his mouth with his hand. - What a clever girl you've grown into, Anyushka! I'm so proud of you, so skillfully lowering the price, not bending even to your own squad leader! That's what business is! No mercy, always go all the way, don't give up!

- What are you even teaching her!? - exclaimed the saddened Robert, taking the meager earnings that he would later have to divide among the seven members of the squad.

- To carry everything home! - proudly replied Mr. Rosenarm.

Robert had nothing to say to that and left the shop, catching a predatory greedy smile from a little assassin standing next to her father out of the corner of his eye. With just one mage, he could argue: Anya wasn't a copy of her mother. Thank God, at least part of her character came from her father, and she wasn't as heartless as her mother. And for that, he was thankful.