A layer of frosty mist settled over the Eternal City in the early morning, icicles hanging like inverted spears from the eaves of houses lining the streets.
A cold wind blew, and Villanelle pulled her cloak tighter, a bulging old backpack on her back as she navigated the gradually waking streets of the West District.
The clanging from blacksmith shops, the aroma of food, the snorts of horses, and the shouts of cart drivers mingled together, filling the chilly air with a vibrant vitality.
Anvil Street had arrived.
Villanelle looked up, her gaze settling on a heavy wooden door not far away. The words “Number Seventeen, Anvil Street” were carved on a plaque, and a sign bearing a sword-and-shield emblem swayed slightly in the wind.
This was definitely the place.
Villanelle exhaled a puff of white mist and pushed the door open, leaving the lively street sounds behind.
A smell of old wood, sweat, tobacco, and a faint metallic odor washed over her, making her frown slightly.
The hall was more spacious than Villanelle had imagined. A few oil lamps hung from the ceiling several meters high, casting a dim light.
Dozens of rough-hewn round tables were occupied by adventurers of all kinds, dressed in various attire. Some huddled in dirty cloaks, speaking in low tones; others silently polished their weapons; a few leaned against the walls, dozing off.
The sound of Villanelle’s entrance drew a few glances, but they quickly looked away. A new face bundled up like hers wasn’t particularly unusual here.
She swallowed nervously, scanned the hall, and walked straight toward a row of oak counters at the very back.
Two people sat behind the counter. One was a lean-faced young man, head down, scribbling something so fast his quill was a blur. The other was an old man with a scarred face, wiping a mug with a dirty rag.
“Commission? Registration? Or turning in a task?” the old man asked without looking up, his voice raspy.
The copper mug was getting dirtier from the wiping.
Villanelle averted her eyes, pulled back her cloak’s hood, and tried to keep her voice steady. “Registration.”
Only then did the old man look up, giving her a once-over with a surprised expression. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.” Villanelle guessed it was probably because her face looked too young.
The old man didn’t dwell on it. He got straight to the point. “Mage or knight? Or some other special class?”
“Mage. Mainly elemental direction.”
“Alright…” The old man set down the mug, wiped his hands on his work pants, pulled a yellowed parchment and a worn-down quill from under the desk, and slid them toward Villanelle.
“This is the basic information form. Fill in all the blanks. A reminder: the spellcasting rank must be real. It affects the subsequent adventurer rank assessment process.
Name and age can be whatever, but don’t use the name of any already-famous adventurer.”
Villanelle picked up the pen, dipping it into the half-congealed ink.
After a moment’s thought, she wrote “Vera Lynn” in the name field, sixteen for age, Elemental Mage for profession, and Third Tier for spellcasting rank.
The old man took back the form, squinting at it.
“Vera Lynn… fine. Do you have mage certification? Either an academy badge or a rank assessment document from the Mage Association will do. Need to set your tier so you don’t take on tasks recklessly.”
Villanelle pulled out the pre-prepared rank assessment document from inside her cloak and handed it to the old man.
This document was registered half a year ago. Back then, she truly was only Third Tier.
The old man took the parchment, which looked as good as new, and without using any magic, held it up to the oil lamp, examining it carefully for a long moment before returning it.
“The assessment document checks out.” The old man lifted his eyes, scanning Villanelle a few more times. “But this alone isn’t enough. There’s a rank test next, just a formality, to see what level of spell you can actually cast.
Test fee and registration fee is ten copper coins. Don’t forget.”
A dragon claw extended from the old backpack on Villanelle’s back, placing a handful of counted copper coins into her palm.
The old man rubbed his eyes, taking the coins with disbelief.
Was his eyesight failing?
What was that? A dragon? Or some other magical creature?
But the old man wisely didn’t ask further. He pocketed the money and tilted his head toward a small door reinforced with iron strips beside him.
“Lilith’s inside. Loren, take this young lady there.”
The young man beside him responded with clear reluctance, put down his pen, stood up, and walked ahead. Villanelle followed closely.
Behind the small door was a corridor. Loren led her to the end, knocked on one of the doors, and pushed it open.
“This is it. Go on in.”
Villanelle stepped inside. The room was spacious, with polished stone floor tiles. Dust-covered training dummies and targets were piled in a corner.
In the center of the room, a woman in a red dress, with an enchanting face, lounged in a reclining chair, idly teasing a crow with her magic staff.
A beauty mark adorned the corner of her eye, and her long black hair was streaked with a few strands of red. Even lying down, the prominent curves of her chest were particularly eye-catching.
As expected, this was the Lilith the old man had mentioned.
“Newcomer?” Lilith sat up lazily, her amber eyes turning their gaze. The crow fluttered its wings and landed on her smooth shoulder.
“Yes. Third Tier mage, main focus elemental.” Loren seemed reluctant to meet her eyes directly. After his brief reply, he quickly retreated.
“Such a young age?” Lilith chuckled lightly. “Come on, little sister. The rule is simple—attack me with the spell you’re best at. Don’t worry about hurting anyone.”
“Attack you?” Villanelle hesitated slightly.
She couldn’t sense much mana fluctuation from the woman before her.
“That’s right. Attack me. Don’t hold back.” Lilith encouraged patiently.
“Alright then. Please be careful, Miss.” Villanelle took a deep breath, drew her magic staff from the sheath at her waist, raised it, and began channeling her mana toward the staff’s head.
An Arcane Missile rapidly took shape, but under her deliberate control, it didn’t fire immediately. Instead, it continuously absorbed energy, slowly swelling…
Lilith sat up straighter, watching with keen interest as the missile slowly shifted from purple to deep crimson.
Once Villanelle felt the charge was sufficient, she guided the missile with her staff and launched it fiercely.
The Arcane Missile shot out like lightning, carrying an aura that seemed ready to tear space itself, heading straight for Lilith. Watching it get closer and closer to the woman in the center of the room, for a fleeting moment, Villanelle felt her heart clench.
Had she overdone it? What if…
“Test passed. That’s already at the level of a Fourth Tier mage.” Lilith nodded in satisfaction. Without even using her staff, she raised a hand and snapped her fingers lightly.
The Arcane Missile came to an abrupt halt half a meter in front of her, dissolving into nothingness. The mana composing it dissipated silently into the air.
Villanelle’s eyes widened.
‘That strong?’
“Provisional rank: Black Iron. After she completes a few commissions, we can raise it a level.” Lilith lay back in her recliner, her voice returning to its usual lazy tone, speaking to the old counterman who had appeared at the door.
The latter nodded, made a few marks on his record board, then pulled out a metal badge and handed it to the nervously waiting Villanelle.
The badge was about half the size of a palm, heavy, with a dark gray color and rough, slightly prickly edges.
The front bore a raised crossed sword-and-shield emblem. The back was clearly engraved with “Eternal City West District Branch” and “Black Iron Rank.”
“This is your provisional adventurer’s badge. You’ll need it for task handovers, reward settlements, and rank promotions. Don’t lose it. Replacement is a hassle.”
The old man spoke in an official, matter-of-fact tone, plain but serious.
“You can now go to the main hall and look at the task boards. Black Iron rank tasks and some general tasks with no rank requirements are all on the two leftmost boards. Remember: know your limits. The Association only provides the most basic rescue and compensation according to regulations. Don’t expect too much.”