Penny was delivered to his destination, and Vika bid him farewell outside of Musing Tyr. As a precaution against unforeseen circumstances, the lad generously compensated the troubadour with a substantial sum of 200 Belens as a gratuity for her intermediary services.

He placed his trust in Vika, believing her to possess professional ethics commensurate with her reputation as an information broker. Thus began the quiet vigil amidst the icy expanse, to the north of the ashen forests, where armies were mustering. According to Penny's informant, the arrival of the holy warriors of Tyr was imminent, expected within the next two days.

Occasionally, while contemplating in the small town of Paloka, Penny attempted to harness his extrasensory perception, seeking insights into future fortunes and misfortunes. However, the outcome was shrouded in uncertainty, with fortunes and misfortunes entirely indiscernible. This outcome furrowed his brow in silent consternation.

Ever since his encounter with the enigmatic ale-slinger in Dehumi City, where the latter displayed formidable prowess, Penny noticed a peculiar faltering in his empathic abilities. Although his perception remained accurate, premonitions became intermittently unreliable. Furthermore, upon awakening each morning, his mind was plagued by an inexplicable ache, lasting approximately ten minutes before subsiding. This ailment even impeded progress in his arcane studies.

This discovery vexed him greatly, yet he found himself at a loss for its cause, relegated to setting the matter aside temporarily. This recent setback prompted him to vow prudence in the future, refraining from the casual use of his abilities unless absolutely necessary.

He harbored a vague sense that excessive reliance on this innate ability bore no benefits without consequences. It seemed as though every additional benefit exacted its toll, and he feared he had reached the juncture where payment was due.

"Tsk, you look positively dreadful," the troubadour emerged seemingly from nowhere, catching Penny off guard. Clearly, their initial encounter left neither with a favorable impression of the other. Anael, perceiving the lad as conniving and lacking in manners, harbored a predisposition to seize any opportunity to deliver a stinging blow. "If I were the leader of that knightly order, I'd surely think twice before admitting you as their squire."

"They dare employ a completely unreliable rabbit gentleman as an intermediary, so there's no reason they should look down upon me," calmly retorted Penny.

"You? How could you possess the charm of an artist?" queried Anael incredulously.

"Charm is manifested through artifice. Tell me, Mr. Rabbit, do you comprehend the art of artifice?" Penny glanced at Anael.

"Artifice? Is that some language from another plane?" Anael remained dumbfounded.

"In other words, it's the perpetual packaging of oneself with cryptic language and extravagant behavior to stand out and draw attention—a rough definition of artifice," Penny explained, fixing Anael with a gaze of 'child, you're beyond redemption,' shaking his head in pity. "See, you don't even understand how to manifest charm. With your utterly abysmal artistry, you'll only scare others away."

"Who...who says that?" Anael retorted angrily. "You, a mere lad, dare to discuss charm with me? Do you not know that troubadours are the most charming group in Pharen? Artifice? I've mastered that since birth."

"Alright, alright, may you soon become Pharen's premier master of artifice," Penny nodded nonchalantly. Suddenly, he heard the sound of hoofbeats outside the town, opening the window to behold a brilliant reflection—a glimmering armor, accompanied by the knights' longswords.

"They're here," Penny sighed. However, he noticed Mr. Rabbit had already dashed outside. Hastening after, Penny stepped out of the cabin, spotting only four riders entering the town. It seemed odd—what significance could such a small group hold amidst the turmoil? Perhaps merely a matter of moral obligation.

"Hello there, brave warriors of Tyr!" Anael dashed forward with a hearty laugh. The leading knight removed his visored helm, shook out his long hair, exhaling a puff of mist as he calmly regarded the half-elf. "Not good at all, Anael. Seeing you reminds me of the rather unpleasant encounter at Dragon Bay. You should be grateful I serve His Highness Tyr; otherwise, I would have already severed your head with my blade."

"Gratitude to His Highness Tyr. May I inquire about these distinguished individuals?" Anael's gaze shifted to the golden-haired knight's retinue. As they removed their helmets, one among them appeared petite. Unveiling her helmet revealed a delicate yet exquisite countenance, illuminated by the sunlight cascading upon her golden locks, reflecting a radiant glow akin to the sun. Her two azure eyes gleamed brightly, resembling sparkling gems against the backdrop of pure white.

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Seemingly awestruck by this spectacle, Penny squinted slightly, while Anael eagerly approached and began to chatter incessantly: "Oh! Madam, I am Anael Sternvanni, the most renowned artist in the North. It is a pleasure to serve you. Might I have the opportunity to further acquaint myself with you..."

"I am Seralgrophia, a novice knight. Thank you for your warmth," the lady knight, though appearing no more than sixteen or seventeen, spoke with a cool detachment, her demeanor exuding an aloof politeness. "However, the captain informed me that you are the most notorious rogue informant in the North, and advised me to keep my distance. It's regrettable."

"Knight Camacho! How dare you slander me so!" Anael appeared genuinely wounded, gesturing towards the lead knight in a theatrical display of dismay.

"The code of the Holy Warriors binds us to truthfulness. I merely speak the truth," Camacho snorted, casting a gaze beyond the half-elf to Penny, who was clad in a thick robe. "Introduce your friend."

"This is Penny Cyan, a mage from Dragon Bay, my companion whom I trust to work alongside me," Anael responded.

Penny nodded toward Camacho, while Anael apologetically explained, "Forgive him; he's somewhat reserved and disinclined to converse."

"So, is this gentleman willing to collaborate with us?" Camacho inquired.

"Yes, he seeks to accumulate experiences of adventure." Anael spoke with a mixture of nonsense and a trivial truth: "This is related to his advancement task."

"Task? Very well, troubadour, though your character is dubious, I still hold a glimmer of hope for your professional ethics. Therefore, I am willing to place trust in your friend. However, as the Hand of Tyr, we would like to conduct a few small tests on your friend," Camacho pondered for a moment, then turned to Penny. "Would you mind undergoing a detection of evil spell?"

"No problem." Penny nodded. Being exposed by Anael, he refrained from using his amateurish Comier accent and intentionally lowered his voice, assuming a demeanor of reticence.

As for the spell, he wasn't too concerned. Upon self-reflection, he believed his thoughts and actions were still distant from malevolence.

With a wave of Camacho's hand, the female knight behind her murmured something, and a radiant light blossomed from her palm, enveloping those around her. After a while, the light faded, and the female knight nodded to the captain. Camacho's expression softened as she looked at Penny. "We are pleased to have you accompany us. However, we still hope to understand the purpose of your journey, sir."

Purpose? It seemed his faction was still a bit removed from righteousness, otherwise these knights wouldn't have raised such a question. Penny pondered silently, feeling there was nothing he couldn't reveal: "To investigate the Unconscious."

"Are you also here to investigate the Unconscious? How fortuitous," Camacho's expression appeared somewhat surprised. Penny's heart stirred. Were these knights also here for the same reason?

"Yes, we are also here for the Unconscious. It's heartening to find kindred spirits." Camacho noticed Penny's puzzled expression and nodded.

"I am also pleased," Penny nodded, but noticed Camacho stroking her chin, as if pondering for a while, then continued, "There is one final question, sir. If you were to join our ranks, you would become our comrade in arms. If, during battle, you were unable to assist or found yourself in unnecessary peril, which might impede our actions, we must..."

"In your left breast pocket, there is a ring containing three divine spells," Penny spoke before Camacho could finish, closing his eyes as he revealed.

Camacho was taken aback, feeling her chest pocket, surprised and skeptical at once.

"And your necklace is enchanted with a spell to heal grievous wounds. I couldn't discern the contents of the two scrolls in your pouch, likely high-level goods of fifth rank or above. As for the rings of the other two knights, one holds spells for brute force, divine favor, dispelling magic, and hex-breaking, while the other holds a wand to remove toxins..."

The expressions of the knights all changed. They hadn't expected this young man to discern all their magical items with a mere closure of his eyes. The female knight was still astonished, but Penny turned his face towards her, opening his eyes. "Your sword is quite remarkable. I wonder which adept enchanted it? It seems to have a soul dwelling within..."

"Aidamel Dawnlight, one of the few sacred swords in the teachings," Camacho sighed, patting Penny's shoulder and smiling. "You are qualified, companion."

"I am deeply honored," Penny smiled, as several knights looked at him with surprise, especially the sword-bearing female knight.

After a while, the dumbfounded Aniel approached, "You know, with your skills, if you were to switch to becoming a thief, all the wizards would weep."

"Perhaps," Penny nodded noncommittally.

Aniel pondered for a moment, then remarked, "According to your words, were you just putting on a show earlier?"

Penny almost spat out his water, nodding weakly after a while, "Sort of."

"Why were you able to pull it off so convincingly? Why was I rejected before even speaking? Oh, my lord of lifecycles, does the charm of art pale in comparison to the coldness of magic?" Aniel recalled the cold reception from the female knight, his face filled with agony.

"To be effective in pretending, being impressive is a necessary condition. Otherwise, you'll be seen as a fool. You certainly don't need to understand the languages of these planes," Penny glanced at Aniel leisurely. "You just need to know that she's not interested in you because you're inadequate."

"I'm inadequate... I'm inadequate... I'm inadequate..."

A string of words hit the body artist's head hard, and the half-elf suddenly felt the world before him growing even darker.