Charlotte stood in front of the Alchemists' Guild, lost in thought.

Caroline had returned to Beatrice's house to organize information and, before leaving, had repeatedly warned her:

"Don't be impulsive. No matter what happens, come back to discuss it."

How old does she think I am?

Charlotte's distraction wasn't due to dissatisfaction with Caroline but rather the two bronze statues in front of the guild's entrance.

Standing about four meters tall, one depicted a knight armed with a sword and clad in armor, while the other portrayed a scholar holding a book and wearing a robe.

Despite some subtle differences, Charlotte easily recognized that both had the same face.

It was Amon Von Eiberg.

Her father.

Although she knew that modern alchemy inevitably involved her father, Charlotte hadn't expected anyone to place statues of him right at the entrance.

She had a bad feeling.

The Alchemists' Guild was located near the city center, close to the church bell tower. The light at the top of the bell tower was so penetrating that it passed through the stone walls, illuminating the statues.

The reflection on the bronze annoyed Charlotte, prompting her to quickly step through the main door.

The interior of the hall reminded her of a skeleton. The main brass pipes embedded in the silver ceiling resembled a spine, while the side tubes distributing steam looked like ribs. These brass "bones" probably also supported the ceiling's weight.

The designers, apparently not content with mere functionality, had decorated the pipes with various engravings.

Charlotte noticed that one of them bore the Eiberg family crest.

On the wall opposite the entrance, there was a large portrait of a man she didn't recognize.

"Thank the queen," Charlotte thought. "As long as it's not my father, I don't care who it is."

Below the portrait were tables covered with documents and mechanical devices, where staff were busy working.

The hall had no visible light sources; the light from the bell tower continued to penetrate the space.

The floor was so polished it resembled a mirror, yet it was surprisingly non-slip. Charlotte was grateful she wasn't wearing a skirt.

She approached an empty counter.

"Good afternoon, miss."

"Good afternoon. How may I assist you?" The receptionist, a woman with brown braids draped forward, smiled professionally.

"I'd like to register as a member of the Alchemists' Guild. Here's my letter of recommendation." Charlotte handed over Beatrice's letter.

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The receptionist opened the document, read its contents, and smiled again. "So, you’re Miss Charlotte Bellamy. Would you like me to explain the guild's rules?"

"Please." Although she was a level 2 alchemist, Charlotte had never joined a guild.

This was because she hadn't yet graduated from the Institute of Natural Philosophy, and as a noble, she didn’t need the guarantees a guild could offer. When it came to guild rules, she really knew nothing.

The brown-braided woman began speaking proficiently: "The guild, as an institution authorized by the Viscount of Solvellon, is responsible for certifying, classifying, contracting, and supervising all alchemists in the region."

"According to Miss Beatrice's letter, you wish to become an independent alchemist. Let me explain the specific regulations."

"As an independent alchemist, you cannot have a fixed commercial establishment in the city—in other words, you cannot open a shop. However, you may accept contracts from alchemy shops."

"You are entitled to use an alchemy laboratory appropriate to your classification level. The guild's laboratories and equipment can be used free of charge, but any damage must be compensated."

"The guild can act as an intermediary, offering guarantees for independent alchemists while charging 20% of profits as a commission. This includes taxes owed to the viscount."

"You also have access to all books in the guild's library, the ability to register patents, and publish articles. Additionally, the guild buys and sells alchemical materials and rare items."

"As Miss Beatrice's niece, money shouldn’t be an issue for you. But if you wish to earn extra, the guild has various commissions available. Is there anything you'd like clarified?"

"Your explanation was very detailed; I’ve understood the essentials."

Charlotte sighed inwardly.

"The Solvellon Guild has a lot of power. This already feels like a government department."

"Perfect. To register, you'll need to pass an examination. What’s your specialization? Constructivist, engraver, metal alchemist, or combustion alchemist?"

"Engraver." Charlotte, though specializing in constructive alchemy, remembered Beatrice's advice to keep a low profile and altered her answer.

"Do you prefer a written or practical exam?"

"Practical!" Charlotte quickly replied. She was tired of endless calculations. At school, written exams were constant, and the senior students had a signature phrase: Test, test, test. Go test your mother’s patience!

"Perfect. I’ll arrange that for you." The receptionist typed swiftly on a machine as the "wall" behind her began to move. Gears turned, interlocked, and shifted.

Charlotte noticed, surprised, that it wasn’t a wall but a massive machine made of gears.

"This is a differential machine," the woman explained, noticing Charlotte's curious expression and speaking with a hint of pride in her voice.

A differential machine!

This type of device had been introduced in Londini only three years ago, and its technology hadn’t yet spread beyond the Wenze Islands.

Charlotte was amazed to see one in Solvellon, a city far from the Empire's center.

"It was a brilliant invention by Dr. Amon," the receptionist continued.

"Years ago, the doctor and his wife came to Solvellon and built this machine as a gift for the guild hall’s inauguration. To be honest, without Dr. Amon, our guild wouldn’t be what it is today. The statues at the entrance represent the doctor."

Charlotte was used to seeing her father's creations everywhere, from drainage systems to church towers. She really wanted to know where he found the time.

Rumor had it there was a secret method to steal people’s time, and Charlotte suspected her father knew it. For a while, she lived in constant fatigue, convinced he was using her sleep time to work on alchemy.

"Everything is set. Please wait a moment." The receptionist pointed to a nearby sofa. "You can wait there. We’ll notify you when the exam is ready."

Charlotte nodded in thanks and, before walking away, asked, "What’s the highest level that can be assessed here?"

"For exams, the maximum is the first copper level," the woman replied. "For higher levels, senior guild alchemists must conduct the evaluation."

"Excuse me, does the guild have the authority to grant the second level?"

"Well..." The receptionist hesitated. "We offer equivalent treatment, but this is limited to Solvellon."

Charlotte understood. The guild didn’t have imperial authority to grant levels beyond the first. The iron and copper classifications were granted on behalf of the Viscount of Solvellon.

She didn’t look down on it. She knew alchemical levels were only a reference. City guilds had developed independently for centuries, each with its specialties. Surely, there were highly skilled master alchemists here.

Sitting on the sofa, Charlotte patiently waited for her exam.