Veronica made her way toward the town center, scanning the square for any sign of a guard. Eventually, she spotted one standing idly by the sidewalk of a more busy junction where townspeople and wagons crossed paths.

  He saw her approach. "Something you need?"

  She stared back at the guard. “Where can I find the steward?”

  He gestured toward a large stone building on the opposite side of the square, just beyond the merchant stalls. “That’s the town hall. You’ll find the steward’s office inside. Name’s Hadrian Welton.”

  “Got it,” she said with a nod. “Thanks.”

  The guard grunted in acknowledgment before shifting his attention back to the road.

  With that, Veronica set off toward the town hall.

  Veronica crossed the town square. The building was sturdier than most of the others around it, constructed from thick stone with wooden beams reinforcing its frame. It wasn’t particularly grand, but it definitely stood out as an official-looking building.

  Stepping inside, she found herself in a modest entry hall. A wooden desk sat near the back, where a clerk scribbled on a parchment. Shelves lined the walls, filled with neatly stacked ledgers and scrolls. A few wooden benches were pushed against the sides, presumably for people waiting to meet with officials.

  Veronica approached the desk, clearing her throat to get the clerk’s attention.

  The man, a thin, balding fellow with slightly ink-stained fingers, glanced up with mild disinterest. “Yes?”

  “My name is Veronica. Veronica Everwells. I’m looking for Hadrian Welton,” she said. “I was told he was looking for me?”

  “Do you have an appointment?” he asked lazily.

  “No, but the clerk at the inn told me he needed to see me. And I’m interested in talking with him, too. I’m a mage who arrived in town earlier this morning.” Veronica lifted her palm and ignited a small flame above her fingertip.

  That seemed to catch his attention, if only slightly. The man’s brow furrowed, and he glanced toward a door at the back of the room before speaking. “Wait here.”

  He rose from his seat and disappeared through the doorway, leaving Veronica to stand awkwardly in the quiet office. She tapped her fingers against the edge of the desk, eyes drifting over the documents scattered across its surface. Most of them seemed to be records. Trade agreements, merchant permits, and supply logs.

  None of it looked particularly interesting.

  After a minute, the door creaked open again, and the clerk returned, motioning for her to follow. “Steward Hadrian will see you now.”

  Veronica stepped inside the office, finding herself in a simple but well-kept room. A large wooden desk dominated the space, cluttered with ledgers, a wax seal, and a half-finished cup of tea. Behind it sat a middle-aged man with graying hair and sharp, calculating eyes. His coat was finely made but practical—more suited to a steward than a noble.

  “Miss Veronica, correct?” he said. “I wanted to thank you for this morning. That monster attack could have gone poorly if not for your intervention. Captain Luthen also asked me to extend his gratitude.”

  Veronica nodded, already piecing together why she’d been summoned. “That’s the head guard, right? The one who tried fighting the ogre?”

  “Yes.” Hadrian folded his hands neatly atop the desk. “You were quite impressive, from what he reported. You saved a child who was hiding behind a wagon. A single spell and the ogre died in one hit. I even heard the explosion from here. The crater is still being filled as we speak.”

  She winced slightly. It was prohibited to use mass destruction magic without permission. She'd become a bit too used to firing off city-destroying spells in the apocalypse. That was a drawback of her magic. Subtlety wasn’t exactly her forte. Maybe she should have use a piercing spell instead of an explosion spell to kill the ogre.

  “Sorry about that.”

  Hadrian waved dismissively. “You likely saved several lives—civilians and guards alike. A patch of broken stone is a small price to pay. Speaking of which, Captain Luthen passed along a request he’d like you to hear.”

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  “A request?”

  “Yes, he’d like you to meet him at the barracks.” Hadrian leaned back slightly, assessing her. “You’re a mage, and clearly a capable one from what he told me. Luthen believes his men would benefit from combat drills against someone who can use magic.”

  Veronica blinked. “Combat training?”

  “Exactly. Mages are extraordinarily rare this far out on the kingdom’s edge. Many of our guards have never even seen offensive magic, much less defended against it. Luthen believes our forces would benefit from training against magic.”

  She hesitated, thinking the request over.

  Combat drills with town guards? That wasn’t on her list of priorities. She needed information about the current era, political shifts, and the kingdom’s state—not to spend her day tossing spells halfheartedly at soldiers.

  Seeing her reluctance, Hadrian continued gently, “He doesn’t want you to harm them. Just controlled training. Enough for them to understand what fighting a mage feels like. He's afraid if they're only trained to fight monsters or other swords, they'll never grow.”

  He paused, then added more carefully, “And… when the guards brought you to the inn, they mentioned you didn’t have any belongings. No pack. And no vix on hand.”

  Veronica looked at him. What was he getting at?

  He nodded. “I won’t pry about your situation, or ask about who you are. But the inn isn’t free.” He tapped a ledger lightly. “If you assist Captain Luthen, the payment you'll receive will cover your stay for the rest of the week and give you enough so that you can buy proper clothes and supplies. You look like you’ve been traveling for quite some time.”

  Veronica glanced down at herself—torn, filthy bandit clothing, worn through from an entire night of running through the forest. She needed money. Food. A change of clothes. Everything, really.

  The offer was… practical.

  “How much are we talking?”

  “Five hundred Vix.” He said it calmly, but with a hint of pride. “Fair, I hope? Just for a couple hours of work.”

  For a small, underfunded mining town like Greystone, five hundred was generous—practically lavish. To Veronica, who once handled budgets measured in millions, it was pocket change… but right now, it was more money than she had to her name.

  She didn’t particularly like how the trousers she had were riding up on her. Not to mention the several small holes near the bottom of her tunic and sleeves. Thankfully, they weren’t in any place immodest. Though, her lack of undergarments was a bit of a concern that she needed to remedy soon.

  After a moment’s thought, she nodded. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

  Hadrian smiled, lifting his quill. He scribbled a few lines onto a parchment before sliding it across the desk. “Take this to Captain Luthen. When you finish the training, have him sign it and return it to me. Your payment will be ready.”

  Veronica folded the paper neatly and slipped it into her pocket.

  Hadrian’s shoulders eased. “The barracks are further on the western side of town. Hard to miss. Captain Luthen will be expecting you whenever you’re ready. You're free to go rest some more or explore the town if you'd like.”

  “Got it. I’ll walk around Greystone a bit before heading over.” She gave him a polite nod. “I’ll be on my way then. Good day, Mr. Hadrian.”

  He offered a weary but sincere smile. “And please—try not to create more craters on your way over.”

  Veronica let out a quiet laugh. “No promises.”

  Veronica headed north, following the directions Sena, the street vendor had told her. Before visiting the guard captain, she still needed more information. Knowing just the year wasn't enough.

  Greystone unfolded around her as she walked: cobblestone streets, timber houses with flower boxes, a peaceful charm that hinted at a population of somewhere between one to two thousand. So different from the ruined world she’d left behind. The contrast tightened her chest.

  Things weren't on fire. No corpses lying on the ground. Demons didn't swarm everywhere she looked.

  One step at a time. Just move one step at a time.

  The Herald’s Hall came into view: quiet, modest, quill-and-parchment sign hanging over a still-locked door. It seems that they weren’t open yet.

  She’d try again later.

  The Tipsy Barrel wasn’t far. She spotted it a minute later. Its sign creaked lazily as she pushed inside. Only a few men occupied the room—two deep in conversation, another muttering to himself in the corner. Early morning probably wasn’t exactly prime drinking hours.

  Veronica took a seat at the counter.

  “Something light,” she said.

  The man behind the bar—thick mustache, stained apron—kept wiping his glass, eyes narrowing as he looked her over.

  “A drink, huh?” he finally said.

  The bartender poured a mild ale into a wooden mug and slid it toward her. “New in town?”

  “You could say that,” Veronica replied, taking a slow sip. She didn't want to drink right now, not particularly, but she knew buying a drink before asking for information was, as some called, "good courtesy."

  That's one of the few things she learned when she was around the 8th-tier, traveling to remote regions to eliminate monsters or other enemies. Traveling around was fun; exploring the world was so much more enjoyable than being trapped within an academy.

  Freedom was one of the greatest joys she had worked toward.

  As she set the mug down, realization dawned on her; this body of hers wasn’t used to drinking quite yet. The drink was bitter—more than she remembered. She’d have to retrain her taste all over again.

  “I’ve been away for a while. Just trying to catch up on things. Heard this place was good for that,” she said, trying not to wince.

  The man studied her for a moment, then shrugged. “You heard right. Name’s Garrick. I’m the owner. Won’t be free, but what kind of info you looking for?”

  Instinctively, Veronica wanted to turn to her right, half-expecting her assistant to be there, ready to pay. Her mind caught up with her a moment later.

  Oh, damnit, she thought.

  She had forgotten something crucial. This was civilization again. A world where money was used. After three years of war, money lost most of its value as things like artifacts, armor, weapons, and food became more valuable.

  Even disregarding that, Veronica never had money herself. Viya had always taken care of her finances and paying for whatever she wanted. It slipped her mind that this was how normal society worked.

  A society without Viya, that is.

  1/20/2026, 8:00EST - This chapter has gone under a significant edit haul. Essentially, the original content from this chapter was swapped with some content of another chapter due to suggestion of better continuity. In case some comments you read might be confusing, unusual, or don't make any sense given the chapter content--it may be because of the edits I made.