Walter studied the notice board. Typical of an RPG game, the Adventurer's Guild put up sheets with quests. Every time Walter calculated the ratio of video game mechanics versus reality, he discovered something that contradicted him. He gained two questions for each answer.

He looked back at Elin. She discussed their itinerary with Lucy.

Since yesterday, he took learning seriously, so he reviewed the facts he gathered. Hit Points were not a thing in-and-of-themselves, but the value acted like a heartbeat monitor. It judged an individual's overall health. When asked, Elin informed him that she didn't know of anyone with more or less HP than 100, except her brother, Favian. No one knows why. He possessed 107, and Elin told him a story where he didn't notice a dagger in his arm during a battle. Did 7 points really mean that much, or was it adrenaline? Walter made a mental note to interrogate Favian later for clues.

Naturally, he asked about levels, specifically about killing monsters to raise them.

"Why would killing monsters raise your level?" she said, "I wish that were true, Gaia knows how powerful I would be by now." Walter resisted the urge to point out she was monstrously strong already. No one knows how it's added up.

He remained ignorant about the nature of Mana Points. Elin didn't know anything about MP and remarked, unconcerned, she lost maximum points since her last scan. Did they work like another heartbeat monitor? Was it a measurement, like gas in a tank or a battery's charge? The Mage's Guild restricted most information about magic, and some were considered state secrets. Elin did relay a rumor about the archmage of the guild, that his MP exceeded four thousand.

Does this mean he'll glow like a Christmas tree to me?

Magic permeated everything, in some way. Everyone had a little, some had a lot, and having none was a handicap.

The fact she took for granted how her world worked created an issue for Walter. She didn't volunteer information since she assumed everyone would know, and he didn't know what to ask about.

How do I solve this mystery?

"Looking for a specific quest? You've been staring at the cluster about mages a while now," Elin asked, looking over his shoulder.

"A little jealous, I guess," Walter responded.

"You'll figure it out. Ready to go?" She offered a sheathed sword.

Walter accepted it and gave her a questioning look.

"Well, you're training to use it, so it's silly not to carry one with you. Let me do the fighting, for now, concentrate on watching and staying safe."

Rebecca grumbled.

She dressed in all black, styled as a witch. When she tilted her head to think, the brim of her pointed hat hid her face.

"You're still staring at that new supplier," Adem nodded towards Elin and Walter as they left the guildhall, "You've been acting weird since you saw him yesterday. Are you going to tell us what's up, or keep it a secret?"

"Ladies keep secrets," she muttered, "Deal with it."

Adem grunted, "He has a weird name. Walter Alvis. Do you think he's a nobleman?"

"He's a mage, I'm pretty sure," Rebecca said, turning away from the door when she couldn't see the two any longer. She sipped her ale, deep in thought.

"Who are we talking about?"

The one that interrupted them was a wiry blonde man with a goatee. He leaned his chair back and balanced it on two legs, solely under the power of his personal balance. Despite how dangerous it seemed, no one appeared worried he would topple.

Adem rolled his eyes, "Were you not paying attention yesterday, Erik?"

Erik shrugged, still staring at the ceiling.

"The hot chick in the white tunic," Rebecca taunted, "The one in the training yard."

"Oh, right!" Erik's chair slammed down flat, and he beat his fist against the table, "Her! What was her name again? Elin Folcey, right? Why does that name sound familiar?"

"So you were paying attention," a burly man next to Erik said and puffed a pipe, "You're thinking of Lord Richard Folcey, probably. He was the knight that died during the War of the Long Night."

"You think that's his daughter, Duan?" Erik asked.

"Not a chance," Duan puffed again, "You really think a nobleman's daughter, even from a disbanded house, would be here or introduce herself without a title? She'd be married off by now. Besides, last I heard, his daughter was a paladin-nominee."

"It's her," Adem said, "I'm sure of it, but I can't fathom why she'd hide it. So that brings us back to the original question. Why is he with her, and what's his story?"

"Why do we care about him? He's a nobody," Erik said.

Adem explained, "It's odd a supplier shows up out of the blue, gets an exclusive contract with a paladin-nominee, and she goes out of her way to train him."

"She signed an exclusivity contract with him?" Duan asked.

"Probably. Unlike the freelancers, he doesn't linger at dungeons trying to make a sale. They always travel together."

"Maybe he's a healer?" Duan said.

"A healer moonlighting as a supplier? What are you smoking, Duan?" Erik asked, "I want some."

Duan handed Erik a folded paper, bulging with pipe fodder. Erik sniffed it cautiously and smiled.

Adem picked up the conversation, "No, if that guy could heal, then he would do what all the other healers do. Set up shop, and get rich. His deal, if he has a deal, is something else."

The three men stared at Rebecca.

"Talk," Adem said.

"Blab," Duan said.

"Spill," Erik said.

"Fine," Rebecca sighed, "You're aware I can sense mana, right?"

The three men nodded.

"Well, I don't know what I'm sensing from him."

"That's it?"

"How boring."

"What a tease."

Rebecca snorted, "You guys are ignorant. No one projects such a confusing signal. I attended an archmage lecture, and he gives off the same feeling as everyone else, just more powerful."

"Ultimately," Adem asked, "What would that mean?"

"My guess? It's a new type of magic, but that's just a guess."

"Is that possible?" Duan asked.

Rebecca shrugged and sipped her ale again, "I don't know. We'd have to ask him."

"Why don't we?" Adem asked Rebecca.

"Why don't we what?"

"Ask him?"