Villanelle set down her magic staff and wiped the cold sweat from her forehead, a result of her intense concentration.
“Arcane Missile flight distance, pass. Impact accuracy, pass… Next.” Not far away, the training ground’s examiner quickly recorded the spell test results on a parchment scroll and raised a hand to signal the next student to come forward.
Villanelle let out a sigh of relief and retreated to the side of the field.
This was the final item of the end-of-term practical exam: spell potency and accuracy testing. The written exams had concluded two days prior. The third-year curriculum didn’t involve too many abstruse theories, focusing instead on assessing foundational knowledge.
With the testing over, the semester was officially at an end, and the long winter break lay just ahead.
Villanelle gathered all her belongings and walked out of the training ground.
The afternoon sunlight wasn’t particularly warm, carrying the distinct chill and desolation of winter, making the Academy grounds seem even more spacious and empty.
Most students who had finished their exams had already left in high spirits, chatting with friends. Almost everyone was discussing their holiday plans, the air buzzing with the restless energy that follows a busy semester.
She found a bench in a corner outside the training ground, temporarily distancing herself from the crowd’s noise. From her backpack, she pulled out the Winter Break Guidance Manual the Academy had distributed not long ago.
With over a month of vacation, she needed to think carefully about what to do.
The manual wasn’t thick. It listed several Empire-certified avenues for low to mid-tier mages to gain experience or earn compensation.
These avenues included, but were not limited to: assisting workshops with basic enchantments or rune inscription, being hired to participate in public magical surveying and mapping, serving as an apprentice or assistant at a legitimate potion shop…
A few paragraphs on the last page caught Villanelle’s attention.
“Students possessing a certain level of spellcasting ability may, at their discretion, visit the registration office of the ‘Imperial Adventurer and Freelancer Association’ located within the city to inquire about compliant commission tasks suitable for low-tier registered personnel.
Such tasks often involve patrols outside the city, exploration of low-risk areas, collection of specified materials, or escort duties, which can help improve practical adaptability and wilderness survival skills.
Friendly reminder: Before accepting any task, students must repeatedly verify the client’s information and the task’s risk rating, acting within their capabilities.”
Below was the address of the Imperial City registration office: 17 Anvil Street, West District.
Villanelle’s gaze lingered on this passage for a long time.
The Adventurer’s Association… This name wasn’t unfamiliar to her; it often appeared in street rumors, tavern chatter, and biographical tales.
Villanelle knew it wasn’t some noble or elegant place, but rather a gathering spot for people from all walks of life, where most adventurers would take on any job for the bounty.
But precisely because of that, perhaps she could learn something different there.
The Academy taught students systematic textbook knowledge and standard spellcasting methods, but that was the extent of it. It didn’t teach them how to face the malevolent intent that might rush at them in Frostwhisper Forest, or how to find a sliver of hope in a desperate situation.
The textbooks held no answers to these questions. She would have to comprehend them step by step, through experience.
And… the manual listed it as a legitimate avenue, meaning the Adventurer’s Association was, at the very least, recognized by the Empire, subject to its oversight. That was far better than the black market or certain illegal hires.
At least the posted tasks would undergo review.
This might currently be one of the few windows available for her to touch the real world and train herself.
Once this thought clearly surfaced in her mind, it quickly took root and sprouted.
Villanelle closed the manual, stood up, and walked toward the direction of the Academy’s main gate.
She needed to discuss something this important with Ignis first.
A little over half an hour later, the dim, grayish tower of Twilight Tower came into view in the distance.
Inside the tower, the same sense of isolated tranquility remained. The flickering flames in the fireplace somewhat dispelled the winter chill, casting a warm, golden-red hue on Ignis’s black scales.
At that moment, he was curled up in his little nest before the fireplace, intently reading an advanced textbook on the Imperial Official Common Tongue.
Villanelle habitually rubbed Ignis’s head, then sat down cross-legged beside the nest. She flipped the guidance manual to the last page and pointed it out to him.
Ignis quickly scanned the lines, then lifted his head to look into her ice-blue eyes.
The Adventurer’s Association? He was all too familiar with that.
In the Western fantasy novels he’d read in his past life, nine out of ten, no, ten out of ten mentioned the Adventurer’s Association; it had become a standard fixture.
“I want to go see it, Ignis,” Villanelle said seriously, her fingers tracing the faint mark left on his neck by the long-term wear of the Suppression Collar. “I need practical experience. I also need to know… what I’m truly capable of, once I step out from under the protection of the Academy and the Imperial Palace.”
She didn’t want to, and couldn’t, stay forever within the quiet confines of Twilight Tower. One day, she would leave this place.
This wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment thought. In fact, since she was a child, a vague yet fervent dream had been buried deep in Villanelle’s heart.
She yearned to be like the legendary figures from the tales sung by bards, or the protagonists of adventure biographies—to travel across the continent, witness magnificent and spectacular sights she’d never seen before, experience adventures beyond ordinary imagination, and leave her own footprints in the vast world.
Not to be trapped in the gorgeous yet icy cage of the Eternal City, struggling amidst countless invisible formalities and the machinations of various factions.
This place didn’t belong to her. Her soul yearned more for the freedom of the outside world.
As she grew a little older and understood more, Villanelle gradually realized that most of those past adventure stories were likely exaggerated imaginings of the authors, and the bards’ songs were filled with beautification and fiction.
Real-world adventure wasn’t always as romantically legendary as imagined; more often, it involved roughing it and various injuries and dangers.
But in her heart, that small flame had never truly been extinguished. It had just been temporarily smothered by the heavy pressure of reality and a clear awareness of her own weakness.
However, right at this moment, at the junction of the semester’s end and the start of the long vacation, after experiencing the events in Frostwhisper Forest, Villanelle faintly felt that the small flame seemed to have found a crack and was peeking out once more.
“Wherever you want to go, I’ll follow,” Ignis’s thoughts echoed in Villanelle’s mind the next second, without a hint of hesitation.
What more was there to say? When it came to joining her party, he was instantly on board.
They were family. So, he would unconditionally support any decision Villanelle made, no matter what direction it might lead them.
“There might be danger, but we can start with the simplest tasks,” Villanelle replied softly, her pale, slender hand gripping Ignis’s dragon claw. “And we can go together.”
“Alright. Together.”
Ignis’s response was brief and firm.
Beside them, the fireplace fire crackled, casting their shadows onto the stone wall of the room, making them sway slightly with the flames.
The winter wind whistled past outside the window, letting out a low, mournful sound.