"If you wouldn't mind, Sir, please pick up the dumbbells in front of you as soon as you're ready," the employee kindly asked of Daz.

The reaper nodded and did as he was told.

"Excellent. Now, Sir, if you could, please do 100 reps. You are allowed a short minute-long break every 20 reps, though I would advise against it as relaxing your muscles before immediately straining them again, can, in some cases, cause more harm than good," the man requested.

Daz tossed the weights lightly in his hands to get a feel for their weight. They had no markings on them to indicate how heavy they were but Daz's Wisdom was telling him that they were roughly 30 or so pounds each.

Clearly not toys. Daz began doing the reps as asked, though he wasn't Crusher. He didn't suspect he couldn't do them, but with perfect form? Doubtful.

"Do many people take the retirement plan option?" Daz asked to help pass the time.

"Oh, yes. Quite a few mercenaries, actually. I think it was... 70% of all mercenaries? Sorry for not having the specific numbers for you, Sir."

"Wow. That's a lot more than I expected, honestly."

"Well, Sir, most people do not have access to the greater system and most are born into a planet that has long since passed its trials. If their forefathers and ancestors did not get lucky with their trials and given opportunities, then earning strength and merit points can be incredibly hard."

Daz paused for a brief second. '... Does that mean that our children won't have the access and opportunities we do? That's... concerning. All the more reason to not fuck this all up, I guess, assuming that's true.'

He continued doing the reps and said, "That makes sense, I guess. So they take merc jobs to earn money and then plan to set up their families if they die?"

"Exactly, Sir."

"How does it work, though? Where does the 10% go upon death?"

"To the mercenary's listed kin, Sir. If the listed kin is deceased, it will go to the listed kin of the listed kin - should they be a mercenary, if not, it will go to the listed kin's immediate family. If neither are available options, it will go to the Mercenary Guild to be used as investment funds."

"Not the direct family of the mercenary themselves?"

"No, Sir. Not unless the mercenary has specified for that to be the case. Usually, however, the listed kin is the mercenary's family, so it is one and the same."

"Huh. Thanks for answering."

"Not at all, Sir. I see that you've completed your reps. That was quick. Would you like to know your scores, or would prefer to just get the final evaluation at the end of the exam?"

"Sure, hit me with my scores."

"Of course, Sir. Your form was sorely lacking, but you didn't damage your muscles, so you get a 64 for that. For speed, you earned a very respectable 97 - almost perfect. Your stamina also seems to be very impressed with a powerful 93."

"Cool. What's next then?"

The employee took out a sheet of paper from the bottom of his clipboard and passed it to Daz before also handing him a pen. "What's left are two very simple quizzes, one on general knowledge, and one on specific knowledge of the surrounding region to see how well-suited you would be for local subjugation and collection missions."

Daz took the paper and read its title. It would seem it was the general knowledge one. Seeing a table pressed up against the wall, he walked over to it and pulled out its chair before getting to work on the test.

"Worked here long?" Daz had almost 1,500 Intelligence so it wasn't tough answering the simple questions and holding a conversation at the same time.

"Well, I suppose? Are you really interested, Sir?" the man asked.

Daz shrugged. "I'm gonna be coming here for missions often - assuming I don't tragically die anytime soon. Figured I'd get to know the staff. You're here, I'm here, we both can understand each other and I have two quizzes to fill out."

"I see. Yes, I've worked here ever since I was 10-years-old, Sir. I used to help with the organisation of the warehouses like all of the other children who chose to work for the guild like I did. I later got the chance to man the front counter when I was 27. That was 8-years-ago, Sir."

"I see. You chose to work here?"

"I had little other choice, given my circumstances, Sir. A street urchin with no access to the system does not have many future prospects."

"Fair enough. You are a human, right?"

"Of course I am, Sir."

"So humans aren't only on Earth? I've wondered about this before since I have other facilities that came with humans like this one."

"Oh, yes, Sir. We don't actually call ourselves humans, though. That is Earth's name for our species. The spectroverse is so large that certain genetic mutations and evolutionary make-ups are bound to overlap. Humans are actually the second most common sentient species under the system's rule, Sir."

"And the first?"

"... You have a shocking level of access to the system, Sir. The first most common are a type of fish that can survive in all sorts of circumstances, even space. They are called Infinite Spawn - a powerful name, I know, but they are weaker than even children."

"I assume they are just insanely skilled at breeding then?"

"Indeed, a very astute assumption, Sir."

The conversation continued for a while longer than perhaps it needed to, even going on after Daz had finished the second quiz. Neither of them seemed to mind, however. The discussion ended about 10-minutes after Daz had finished the written portion of the exam.

The two of them were then transported out of the exam room. They had returned to the lobby of the Mercenary's Guild.

"Sir, if you'd give me a moment to properly file all of your results, please. I won't be more than a minute," the man said.

Daz nodded. "Take your time, Gip."

The employee had a surprisingly short and childish name but Daz could hardly call him out on it given his own name. Gip claimed he got the name from his fellow urchins because it was the sound he made whenever he got beaten for stealing.

A bit morbid, but he'd kept it for his entire life as a reminder of his roots, so Daz could respect that.

He looked around the lobby and spied Master Merit and Madison stood by one of the notice boards idly chatting. They felt his gaze and turned to wave at him, clearly happy to wait for him to finish.

'No chairs, tables, or benches in here, huh? Guess there's no use for loiterers. The Adventurer's Guild is a private business not owned by the system and I guess they want people to socialise so they can trade items they get from the dungeon...' As usual, Daz's mind was spinning, ever calculating the motives and logic behind everything he saw, looking for a cliff to grasp onto and drag himself up from to find some sort of benefit awaiting him at the top.

"Sir?" Gip called.

Daz inclined his head. "You still have my focus."

"Of course." Gip slid a small card across the counter towards Daz. "Here, your Mercenary License, Sir."

Daz picked it and gave it a good look. It had his name, his face, his registered guild as well as his rank on it - Mark-1 Lowest Class. On the back were two listings, oddly enough. They read; Missions Completed: 0, Last Exam Score: 94.

"94, huh? That's high considering how average my strength test went," Daz noted.

Gip smiled softly. "Not at all, Sir. You scored perfectly on the quizzes, which was a pleasant surprise. You are incredibly well-versed in local information relevant to the guild, Sir."

Daz shrugged. "I'm a king. I have a responsibility to be aware of everything that could threaten or could be useful to my kingdom. It helps that my Intelligence keeps it from being a challenge to recall mundane knowledge."

"Indeed," Gip agreed. "Regardless, the number serves no real purpose. Anything above 40 is a passing grade. I have a few things I should tell you though before you leave."

Daz nodded. "I assumed as much. Go ahead."

"Thank you, Sir. Perhaps the most important detail I must stress is to never overestimate your abilities. The Mercenary Guild does not want its license-holders to get themselves killed. If an employee feels that you are not fit for the mission you wish to undertake, it is well within their right to deny you permission to go on it."

"Sounds fair."

"Additionally, Sir, it is not against the rules to help fellow mercenaries complete their missions, however, doing so may impact their chances of receiving a promotion exam, essentially meaning that they will have to do more missions to be promoted."

"I wanted to ask about that. Are there any team missions? Also, what do you need to do to get promoted?"

"Of course, Sir. Joint missions are indeed commissioned. There is usually at least a handful every day per rank, in my experience. To get promoted from mark-1 to mark-2, a mercenary must complete 10 missions successfully. Receiving aid will only count for a fraction of a completed mission credit-wise. The highest fraction being nine-tenths, the lowest being no credit whatsoever."

"Hmm... So you can't just sponge from someone strong... How is any of this verified?"

"Lie detection, Sir."

"Oh, that makes sense. Anything else I should know?"

"Nothing that you won't discover on your own. If you find a mission that interests you then please, by all means, you can discuss it with any of the staff members for more details than are listed on the posting."

"Thanks, Gip. Be seeing you," Daz said as he nodded politely.

"Of course, Sir," Gip nodded and smiled back.

Daz then approached Madison and Master Merit. "You guys were fast."

Master Merit smiled and nodded knowingly as he played with his handlebar moustache. "Neither of us had many questions to ask, Your Majesty."

Daz held his chin. "That makes sense for Maddy, she isn't much one for words, but I'd expect you to be dying to learn more about such an organisation as this one."

Madison pouted. "I, talk..."

"Haha, yeah, but not everyone can understand the meaning behind your tiny fragmented sentences," Daz teased.

"You two are certainly a treat to watch. You remind me of my distant youth..." Master Merit sighed wistfully.

'Your distant youth? You mean the distant youth where you were trying your best to be a legal scammer, unlike your criminal father?' Daz wondered. It was a shame that he always had to be on high alert with people like Jeremiah Merit.

Those with extremely large amounts of Charm and Charisma like him were extremely dangerous if Daz wasn't being vigilant.

"Anyway, yes, Your Majesty, I am rather thirsty for knowledge. Unfortunately, my access level to the system is somewhat lacking to learn that which I wish to learn. Nothing can be done so I felt it wiser to simply get the test over and done with. I then had a lovely conversation with Miss McArthur here and something very interesting came up as we talked," Master Merit claimed with an oily smile.

Daz glanced at Madison who suddenly looked extremely uncomfortable and shy as she squirmed about in place. "Well, don't leave me hanging out to dry."

"Ohohoho," Master Merit heartily laughed before he said, "Marriage, Your Majesty. We were discussing when you two might tie the knot and become one under the eyes of God, or the law, whichever tickles your fancy more."

Daz was stunned into silence for a bit until he sighed and said, "Is that really important? We love each other, what matters more than that? Besides, I don't have a surname and I doubt people would hardly like it if I took Madison's, as much as I personally wouldn't care. People can be very judgemental, especially to those in power. Getting married seems like a bad idea."

Madison visibly deflated like a balloon as if all of her prior bashfulness had been sucked out of her.

Master Merit smiled from ear-to-ear. "That's simple, Your Majesty. Just take a new surname before the announcement. Perhaps a relative's? I heard you spoke to your Korean grandmother during the auction, did you not? Word gets around in such a small fort."

"Daz Ho? Sounds a bit strange," the reaper teased.

Master Merit's face stiffened a bit. "Ah, I did not know that was her surname... Indeed, most ill-fitting given what our culture associates with that word. Anyway, it's something to consider. Stress levels are rising since it's been over a month and most citizens have yet to make much progress on their semester goals. Perhaps it would be wise to hold such a grand event to calm the nerves a bit? Getting married under the authority of the system also comes with some benefits."

Daz shook his head. "I'm sure it does. I'll definitely think about it."

"Of course, Your Majesty." Master Merit bowed his head slightly then asked, "By the way, both of us were curious as to what your passing mark was for the exam? I gained a total of 65. Unfortunately, I have no stats for strength and barely passed the physical portion of the exam."

Madison was still feeling glum, but she said, "59. Bad, written."

"I got 94. My form was off when doing the reps but apart from that I did almost perfectly," Daz answered plainly. His mind was still stuck on the topic of marriage since Madison seemed so affected by his rejection.

"Ah, as expected. Well, since we're all here and together, should we do a joint mission to get a feel for the difficulty? I doubt it will be anything of concern, but it never pays to be foolish," Master Merit suggested.

Daz nodded absentmindedly. "Sure."