Glenn brushed his hair back and sipped on his beer, observing the serious Black Heir in front of him. Sahro had been on the verge of darting after the previous waitress, his intention clear, and it wasn’t a romantic goal.

‘Believing a waitress is a spy…I mean, considering your past experiences, it does make some kind of sense,’ Diamanes laughed mockingly. Glenn’s lips twitched and shook his head, instead focusing on Sahro, who was staring at his beer with narrowed suspicion. His plate of food was similarly untouched.

“You can drink it, it’s not poison, see?” Glenn quipped before downing his ale. Sahro gritted his teeth and hesitantly grabbed his jug, staring at the white moss covering the beer as if it held the secrets of the universe. Glenn watched silently, the corner of his lips curved upward. It was strangely entertaining to watch Sahro struggle with these basic things.

After a moment of contemplation, the Black Heir drew a deep breath, his teeth clenched, and emptied the mug down his throat in one gulp. Glenn choked on his beer, his eyes wide open, “Wait, that’s not—Cough—” He raised his hand tentatively, before lowering it. Sahro coughed and slammed the jug on the table, exhaling a deep, alcohol-filled groan.

Glenn couldn’t help but chuckle softly and shake his head, instead digging in his food. Sahro hiccupped and frowned deeply, his hand on the table, before releasing a hearty belch. He jolted upright, a hand over his mouth to stifle any further outbursts.

"What did I just drink?" he asked, his voice somewhat unsteady. "I'm feeling... a little weird. Glenn—I knew it, it’s poison!"

Glenn couldn't resist the urge to tease as he laughed. "Well, it's beer, my friend. A drink that most people—sorry, most humans—enjoy. But…" He paused and bobbed his head left and right, “...it can certainly be considered a type of poison. A pleasant one to enjoy, though.”

Suddenly, a flicker of concern danced across Glenn's eyes as a thought struck him.

"Wait, Sahro, how old are you?"

"Twenty-one, why?" Sahro replied, his head slightly tilted in confusion.

Glenn shrugged, relieved. "Oh, nothing, nothing."

Sahro, his curiosity piqued by his previous degustation, decided to inquire further. "Can I get another... of that thing?"

"Sure, whatever," Glenn acquiesced with a slight smirk. This looked like this was going to get interesting—entertaining, even.

'Remember the last time you drank alcohol?' warned Diamanes in his mind, but Glenn waved off the warning, too eager to see how Sahro would react to being inebriated. He would be careful, but no reason not to initiate the Black Heir to the novelty of alcohol. The waitress from earlier took their jugs to go and refill them. Glenn shoved a big spoonful in his mouth and leaned forward, “Listen Sahro, I’m pretty sure we can locate the Howards if we manage to gain access to the Bourgeoisie. You know what that is, right?”

Sahro nodded, his expression indicating he was up to speed. "I've heard you need to be either a mid-ranking officer, a wealthy merchant, or at least a Baron to enter that part of King's Rise, but I could be wrong."

Glenn nodded in return, his thoughts aligning with Sahro's information. "We need to find a way into the Third Circle. Once we're there, I'll be able to negotiate with Baron Howard, thanks to this."

Glenn retrieved the crest ring from his dimensional pouch and made it spin on the table. "At the same time," Glenn continued, "we might want to find a way to earn some money, quickly. I have some funds, and I assume you do too." He eyed Sahro expectantly, who looked away, whistling awkwardly.

"What, Giselle didn't give you anything?"Glenn inquired, raising an eyebrow. Sahro shook his head, a touch of embarrassment coloring his features. In the Black Heir's camp, he had exuded pride and confidence, but now, he appeared more like a pitiful lost puppy. Glenn couldn't help but facepalm at Sahro's unpreparedness. "Alright, that means we'll have to find some work and earn some moolah."

"What's moolah?" Sahro asked, puzzled.

"Stop asking questions," Glenn responded with an exasperated sigh. "What can you do?"

"Fight?" Sahro ventured.

"Besides that?"

"..."

"Damnit," Glenn muttered under his breath. He finished his food and leaned back in his chair, thinking. Sahro had also wolfed down the food, probably more than happy to be treated to something else than the slop he ate back in the Sewers. The waitress arrived with two beers, letting them sip on them peacefully. Well, as peaceful as the rowdy Auberge appeared to be.

“Let’s pass the night here, and see what we do next tomorrow,” Glenn decided while stretching.

Sahro nodded slowly, “We need to be in perfect condition for our secret operation. We don’t want to enter a conflict with the locals, but we still need to be prepared for it…”

Glenn rolled his eyes and downed his ale, before going to the counter and paying the bill. He also reserved a cheap room with two beds, choosing to keep an eye on the Black Heir just in case. It wouldn’t hurt to be careful, and he was making economies this way. Two birds with one stone.

The night was uneventful, except for Glenn particularly enjoying the comfort of a straw bed and the fact that he did not need to Meditate this time. Meditating every night was great to recover physical strength, but mentally it was a little draining. This side-effect was supposed to disappear the more he trained with the technique, but he did not want to bother with that for now.

Just a good sleep for once.

The next day, Glenn and Sahro left the Auberge, yawning and ready to tackle the Northern Town. The morning sun cast its gentle glow over the town as shopkeepers began to set up shops. The farmers had gone to work some time ago already, right before dawn to try and make use of the freshness of the morning.

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"Maybe there's a mercenary guild or something," Glenn pondered aloud as he made his way out of the Auberge.

"I think I saw a sign for a Cleaner's Workshop, but nothing about mercenaries," Sahro commented as he rubbed his forehead with a frown, “...Why do I have a headache? I’ve never been sick since awakening Aura…”

"Cleaner's Workshop? I think I saw a sign about them too…" Glenn mused as he ignored the Black Heirs’ struggle with his light hangover. "Well, it won't cost us anything to see what it's all about. But before that, we need to verify something."

The pair headed toward the massive wall that cast a shadow over the village. After about half an hour of walking on the road, they arrived at a checkpoint with an imposing gate—a different structure from the outer wall that enclosed all of King's Rise.

'And rightly so,' mentioned Diamanes in his mind, intrigued, 'If what I'm seeing is correct, this one was probably constructed long after the outer wall. The magic used on it seems less impressive, even though they put effort into it.''

'Wait, what? The inner wall is less secure than the outer wall?' Glenn couldn't fathom the logic behind that. After all, the inner wall was easily taller than the outer wall.

'Well, it's like comparing a thousand tanks to two nuclear bombs. Both are strong, but the difference is still like heaven and earth,' Diamanes explained casually. At the checkpoint, a contingent of soldiers stood guard in steel plate armor, discussing and laughing casually. One of them noticed them, appearing to be an officer from the golden ridges on his pauldrons. He glanced appraisingly at Glenn's outfit while glancing at Sahro, who was wearing balaclava and desert clothes, again to hide his tanned skin. He positioned himself squarely in front of Glenn and adopted a formal stance, locking eyes with him. "Hello, good Sir. Are you here to Ascend?"

'Ascend?' Glenn thought, caught off guard.

Thinking on his feet, Glenn responded, "Maybe not today, I'm trying to figure out what my friend here needs to do to enter the Bourgeoisie. He's from outside the walls."

The agent pursed his lips skeptically but, at Glenn's innocent expression, cleared his throat and produced a document.

"To enter the Third Circle, one must either own a Baron-rank title, possess a Gold Recommendation from the Gold Church, hold a military rank of at least the 3rd rank, or pay a one-time fee of a hundred gold. These are the rules established by the Court," The officer read out loud, before looking up from the document, “Anything else, gentlemen?”

Glenn swallowed his shock and forced a smile out, “No, thank you.”

The officer rolled the document back up and nodded sternly. He then walked back to the other soldiers and joined the discussion. Glenn turned to Sahro, his lips pressed tightly together, and grabbed his arm to pull him away from the checkpoint.

A short distance away, he stopped and turned to face Sahro, who looked at him with a questioning gaze. Glenn finally managed to speak, his voice barely audible, "...A hundred."

Sahro tilted his head, "Is that a lot?"

Glenn checked the contents of his dimensional bag, "I only have 5 gold coins. Remember the drinks we had?"

Sahro nodded.

"I can buy a mountain of drinks with only a single gold coin."

Sahro gasped and took a step back.

"And we need a hundred. A hundred. We're never getting inside the Third Circle," Glenn lamented. Sahro groaned and rubbed the back of his head.

“W—what about the other options?” he asked hopefully. Glenn shook his head in resignation.

“No way we’re entering the military, so no. We’re not nobles, and we have no connection with the Gold Church. I could try using the crested ring of the Howard family, but…” He grimaced, “If they verify our identity, it’s game over.”

Sahro sighed deeply with disappointment, “And here I was, hoping I’d be able to get this mission done quickly…”

Glenn clicked his tongue and patted the Black Heir on the back, “Hey, who knows, maybe we will be able to get everything done in a month or two. Maybe less if we put our backs to it!”

Sahro looked up with renewed determination, “Yeah, you’re right! Let’s not lose hope!”

With these thoughts in mind, the two left in search of the Cleaner’s Workshop, soon finding it by following the numerous signs in the streets. Eventually, after asking passersby for directions more than once, they finally arrived at their destination: the Cleaner's Workshop. It stood as a sturdy and imposing building, with thick stone walls adorned with banners featuring a grand flame on a black background.

A central tower loomed over the structure, its pinnacle crowned with a perpetually burning flame.

"Well, it doesn't quite resemble the Cleaners I had in mind," Glenn remarked, a tinge of awe in his voice. Sahro nodded with uncertainty, clueless about what Glenn had envisioned. The entrance was unguarded, allowing them to enter without any issues. Inside, they found themselves in a grand hall adorned with elaborate tapestries, giant skulls, and exotic weapons.

"I think we found our mercenary guild," muttered Glenn.

Within the building, various individuals moved about, each equipped with an array of weapons and armor. Most appeared to be seasoned warriors, though some donned robes and wielded staffs, hinting at a more scholarly role, probably mages.

A cluster of people gathered around a central board adorned with posted job offers. The atmosphere within the workshop exuded an aura of vigilance and readiness, punctuated by the sounds of clashing weapons from what seemed to be a training hall further away.

Glenn made his way to the area behind the job board, where a counter stood staffed by three attractive young women. Approaching the first one, Glenn was met with a finger raised in admonition and a nasty tongue clicking.

"Please take a ticket and wait with the others," she instructed, pointing to a ticket dispenser and a waiting area to the right, where a dozen individuals were seated.

Glenn complied without a word and obtained a ticket, with Sahro following suit. They took seats next to each other, surveying the other individuals waiting. Sahro leaned in and whispered, "Now what?"

Glenn shuddered, repulsed by the sensation of Sahro's breath against his ear. "Never whisper in my ear like that again; it's dreadful. As for your question, we wait. Try to listen and gather some information."

As they surveyed the surroundings, they noticed several people with hooded capes, allowing Sahro to blend in better. These individuals hailed from different places and backgrounds, adding diversity to the crowd.

Among them were some 'common' humans, a population Glenn had primarily encountered in the Fourth Circle. They possessed blond hair, blue eyes, and pale skin—the mainstream physical appearance in this world. Darker shades of hair seemed rather uncommon in this part of the world. Glenn found it amusing when he thought back to what population was identified with those accurate characteristics back on Earth until he remembered that the matter was far from a laughing one.

Sahro was sitting on his left, and his right was a free seat. A hooded figure came and occupied the vacant seat, their long strands of black hair releasing a pleasant scent of mint that filled the air.

'Mint? That's... an interesting choice of perfume,' Glenn remarked.

'Well, whether it's perfume or not, this person seems stronger than you, so hurry and reach the Third Mana Circle,' urged Diamanes impatiently in his mind.

Finally, Glenn's number, 346, was called, prompting him to rise from his seat, with Sahro following suit.

"Time to see if being a Cleaner brings in the big checks!"

"What the hell is 'checks'?" Sahro inquired.

"...Don't bother," Glenn sighed.