The house Percival purchased in New Castle was roughly fifty years old. It had a solid brick structure and thick walls, which ensured maximum insulation during winter months.

It had two wood fireplaces, but none of them were required to heat the home. Instead, the house was connected to the city's geothermal mana system and delivered a continuous supply of heat via rune-covered tiles present on every floor, including the basement.

The house was large—4,500 square feet, all things said—and had ten bedrooms, five bathrooms, a kitchen large enough to cook a feast for thirty, a drawing room, a study, three living rooms, a breakfast room, a dining room, and a tearoom.

In other words, Sorin and his meager staff now had entirely too much space—a necessity should Sorin ever choose to entertain guests.

Sorin's first task was to settle the purchase of the house. Thirty-five thousand gold coins evaporated in an instant. He then gave Percival eight thousand gold coins to properly furnish the house and stock the larder. Conservative estimates placed their monthly expenses at 1000 gold coins.

It could be argued that a luxury hotel room at 50 gold a night would have been more economical. But a house could be resold, and Sorin had anticipated having the capital to buy one. Moreover, there was a problem with loyalty when it came to hotel staff. By controlling each of their salaries and having the final say on their dismissal, Sorin obtained a great deal of security for a reasonable price.

These first few purchases highlighted a troublesome fact: Sorin would need to start earning quickly. The most convenient way for him to earn would be through the Kepler Clan and with the approval of their elders, which was why the next day, Percival led Sorin to the clan's ancestral residence on Oak Street for an audience with the clan elders.

Five Twelve Oak Street was roughly two hundred years old. It had been through much, including the family's internal strife a hundred years prior. Like Sorin's own house, it was made of brick and in remarkably the same style as his current house, giving credence to Astley's hypothesis that culture was relatively unchanging over time in the bigger cities.

Houses like 512 Oak Street were virtually impossible to purchase. Each building in the surrounding ten city blocks was a historical monument owned by a large faction, who, for reasons that eluded Sorin, had all chosen to erect their ancestral homes in the same location around the same time.

Unfortunately, thoughts of architecture and history could only keep Sorin preoccupied for so long. The ongoing conversation between Percival and a random security guard at the entrance was not going smoothly, and showing up late to a meeting with the presiding elders was not an option.

"As you can clearly see on this letter," Percival patiently explained to the guard, " we have an appointment in precisely fifteen minutes with all six of the presiding elders. This letter is from Elder Nolan Abberjay Kepler, and stopping us here is tantamount to insulting an elder. Surely, you wouldn't want to be responsible for such a grave offense."

"Look here," said the guard, a slightly pudgy fellow with a Bone-Forging cultivation base. It's not my job to know everyone's signature by heart. All I do is stop suspicious people and have them run an independent background check to make sure they're safe to enter.

"We don't want random people entering the manor and blowing it up. Something like that happened at the Crane Clan's ancestral manor just three months ago. So, just sit tight and wait for my companion to return. Once everything is approved—probably in a half hour or so—I'll happily let you in and explain everything to the elders."

"But you can see the problem, can't you?" asked Percival. "We've been here for a half hour already. At first, there was confusion about our identification documents, which we resolved, and then you discovered some discrepancies in the records. And now, there are additional questions about our identification documents, which is curious because Master Sorin's golden identity plaque is notoriously difficult to forge."

"See, that's exactly what's suspicious," said the guard. "We know everyone with gold identity plaques on sight. Yet now this man you call Master Sorin shows up out of the blue, and we're supposed to just take your word for it?"

"It's like I explained previously and like the letter explains," said Percival, a hint of expiration showing in his voice. "Master Sorin hasn't been back in over three years, which is well before your batch of guards was hired."

"Which is why we're trying to locate my supervisor," insisted the guard. "He's been around for twenty years and will know if this 'Master Sorin' is who he says he is."

"Isn't it a little unreliable to identify people based on oral testimony and hearsay?" said Sorin, finally unable to hold himself back. "I imagine that you have a book somewhere with photo identification. My features wouldn't have changed much in three years. Just use that."

"This…" said the guard uncomfortably. "That identification book may have been misplaced."

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"I see," said Sorin with an understanding smile. "So, your team screwed up and is trying to brush it under the rug. Now, I don't personally care about such things and wouldn't bother reporting them—that is unless we were late for our meeting. Then, I'd be obligated to make sure that the elders knew exactly why their time was wasted. Neither of us would like that to happen, am I right?"

"That… well… there's another thing," said the now-sweaty guard, pulling at his collar. "You showed me an apothecary emblem, and I know all the apothecaries here in the clan. If you had a physician emblem, there wouldn't be as many questions. But an apothecary emblem? That's just stretching the truth."

"How interesting," said Sorin, crossing his hands behind his back.

"Interesting?" asked the guard. "In what way?"

Sorin shrugged. "Your supervisor happens to be missing. The identification book is also missing. Most importantly, however, your brain is missing."

"My brain is missing?" said the guard, turning a light shade of purple. "Look here, Mr. Whoever You Are. You can't go around calling people stupid just because of some paperwork problems. If you don't apologize right now, I'll be forced to—"

"To what?" asked Sorin, releasing his aura. The guard was a Bone-Forging Cultivator, but he didn't even have emerald bones. His bones were the most common variant: sealed bones. This meant that he was only four times stronger than a peak blood-thickening cultivator despite having reached his lifetime limit of the second forging.

Sorin, on the other hand, was four times stronger than that. His assessed abilities were also much stronger than the average cultivator's, not to mention his heroic empowerment.

"I said you forgot your brain because of three important facts," continued Sorin. "First off, I'm a hero. I could kill Bone-Forging cultivators even in the Blood-Thickening Realm. Second, the fact that I'm a hero should tell you that I don't have piddly sealed bones. I could break you in half without breaking a sweat.

"And third—this is the most important one—I'm an apothecary. Don't you know that the top ten most painful ways to die involve poison? I have a dozen different ways to kill you without anyone ever knowing it was me. And you dare try to delay me so that I'll be late for my meeting with the presiding elders?"

He then looked up at the clock. "It's now five minutes until our appointed time. I hate being late. You wouldn't want me to be late, would you? I'm sure we can find a solution to this problem, can't we?"

The guard gulped loudly. "You know, I think I do recognize you, come to think of it. You're the spitting image of the previous clan leader. There can be no doubt about it."

"So we're free to go?" asked Sorin.

"Of course, Young Master Sorin," said the guard. "Please, come right in. This is your home, after all. Do you need someone to escort you to the elder's hall?"

"We'll be fine," said Sorin. "It would be a shame to keep you from your duties." He then walked through the door and stepped into the ancestral manor. "Come along, Percival. Let's not keep the elders waiting."

***

"You're late," said a stern, hooked-nose elder when Sorin finally entered the room. His name was Simon Mockingjay Kepler. He was the head of the presiding elders and the most powerful and influential Kepler Clan cultivator in Delphi. He was a simple and austere man who influenced propriety and clan rules greatly.

"He's technically on time, Simon," chided Nolan Abberjay Kepler, a thin, tired-looking man with sharp, penetrating eyes. I know you're insistent that people should show up early instead of exactly on time, but we didn't exactly specify that when we accepted the poor boy's request for an audience."

"Even so, he should know what to expect, having lived here until he was thirteen years old," said Elder Simon. "I take it you have a good excuse for wasting our precious time and instigating this needless conversation?"

"I have no excuses," replied Sorin. "And I'm very sorry not to have arrived five minutes earlier. I'll strive to correct this mistake in my behavior."

The elder's expression softened at his words. "As long as you know. I'm aware of some mishaps that may have occurred at the guard house during this most inconvenient time. Since you admitted your faults so readily, we'll just forget about it and get on with this meeting."

"Isn't that being a little too generous?" said another man, this one in his early sixties. "How unlike you, Simon. You tend to beat these youngsters until they don't dare go anywhere without a pocket watch. Perhaps you're growing soft in your old age."

Like Elder Simon, this elder's eyes and hair were black, and his complexion pale. But unlike the other elders, his shadow was tangible and even merged into his blue robes. He was none other than the elder from the Lucian Clan presiding over the Ancestral Manor, Samson Lucian Kepler.

"Samson, don't think I'm ignorant of your petty schemes," said Elder Simon. "And don't think I don't know who put you up to this. I'll be sure to report your inappropriate behavior to the head of your branch." Elder Samson's expression remained unchanged, so Elder Simon moved on to the next topic. "Sorin, let me introduce the rest of the presiding elders. The one who spoke just now was Elder Samson Lucian Kepler, and you already know Elder Nolan Abberjay Kepler. I go by Elder Simon Mockingjay Kepler, and the four remaining elders are Elder Adrian Sovinger Kepler, Elder Maric Defensor Kepler, and Elder Claudius Rosair Kepler."

"Sorin Abberjay Kepler greets the presiding elders and extends his heartfelt respects," said Sorin, bowing deeply. "I would also like to thank the presiding elders for accepting my request for an audience on such short notice. It has been too long since I lived in Delphi, and I thought it best to report as soon as possible."

"According to what I've been told," said Elder Adrian, twiddling with his oiled mustache, "this is your second day in the city. I would have expected you to report in the moment you got in."

"With all due respect, sir," said Sorin, "I am an adventurer, and I was told to report to the Hero Association in the afternoon. Considering that many of the missions we were sent on involved investigating corruption and taking care of threats to trade routes, which directly affects the Sovinger Branch's, and therefore, the entire Kepler Clan's interests, I'm sure you can understand why we prioritized this."

"I just think that—"

"That's quite enough," said Elder Simon, interrupting Elder Adrian. "Let's not cause needless trouble for young Sorin. You said you came to report in, so let's simply get that out of the way. Please tell us about your activities these past three and a half years. We'd like to hear about how you regained your cultivation, how you distinguished yourself this past half year, and how you see yourself contributing to the clan in the future."