High White First Core wasn’t a terrible rank to become an adventurer, but if he was only fifteen years old, it would mean he had either an awful life or a great life. Seeing the naive look in his eyes, he was probably someone from a merchant or minor noble household.

Mercenary guilds had their own requirements, and though they wouldn’t turn away someone at White First Core, they had their preferences. As long as the person passed the test, they didn’t care.

Those who were in White were usually peasants and other common folk. The chances of a peasant or common folk forming their Fifth Core was almost nil, though there were very few exceptions.

Once one achieved High White by forming the First Core of the next rank, that’s when the world opens up for them. Depending on where they were born, those who achieve High White could become Squires, Students, Recruits or Brothers.

It was only when one achieved Iron First Core could they really know the term freedom. Usually a person would take an Oath once they achieved Iron First Core, though some chose to become Wanderers instead. Villages would probably never see anyone in this rank from their own fold.

This young man, Jack, could probably find work elsewhere if he really wanted. Alice wasn’t sure what drove the boy to join the guild and she wanted to stress just how important the decision was.

“So, young man, you’re fifteen and High White First Core. How did you manage to attain such a high rank at your age?” Alice smiled.

“Well…” Jack scratched his chin, unsure of whether or not he should admit his affiliation with the Bloodwalls. He looked around to see it was only Alice and him alone in this small room. The small room held a table and some chairs, as well as a few cabinets made of wood and a couple of spears resting up against the wall. “My name is Jack, and I was raised in Bloodwall.”

“Oh,” Alice replied, as though what he said explained everything. “Why didn’t you join the military there? With your age and rank you could have easily become a Recruit.”

“Well… I was banished by my father, not to return until I became a great smith.”

“So you failed your apprenticeship exam and decided to become a mercenary?” Alice sighed. “That is a shame. If you were able to become a Smith, you would have had greater success in life.”

“Well, about that…” Jack scratched his cheek as he glanced aside. “I didn’t fail my exam, it’s just that I don’t start for a while. Smith Terry had to leave on some business and I thought I should join the mercenary guild in order to gain some experience with fighting.”

Alice sighed, though she was filled with reassurance now. It seemed that he was only interested in gaining a little experience rather than committing his entire life to such a harsh way of life. “If that’s the case, why don’t we fill out this form?” She smiled.

“Do you need me to write in cursive?” Jack asked.

“Cursive? Are you a noble?” Alice teased, giggling at him.

“Not any more,” Jack admitted, smiling an empty smile.

Alice’s eyes went wide and her heart dropped. “Excuse me,” she said, handing over the form and then a pen.

Jack thanked her and then sat down to fill in the form. It was a simple enough form, though he wasn’t sure how much he needed to write. He wrote his name and his rank, but everything beyond that was fairly vague.

“Write whatever you feel comfortable with,” Alice said, noting how apprehensive he seemed. She couldn’t help but think he was adorable with how shy he was even as he filled the form.

Since he assumed being truthful was a good idea, he wrote that he knew the Bloodied Turtle Sword Art, and that he had some ability as a smith, though noted that he was good enough to be an apprentice and that he had more experience working under the Bloodwall Smith, Kanders. He didn’t really know what to add, as he wasn’t sure what was a notable skill. Instead, he pulled back and double checked his form. Seeing no obvious flaw, he handed the form to Alice.

Alice glanced across it and then looked back up at him. “Would you like to add that you are literate as well?”

“That’s a skill?”

“Some mercenaries have never had such fortune, so most only know symbols, and some hold basic reading and writing. They usually have the guild to look over the contracts and read it out to them.”

“Oh…” Jack realised just how lucky he had been in life. Reading and writing was essential to his living, and being able to read and write allowed one to learn various new Arts. Some people could read the intent of an Art, but in order to master an Art, one needed to know how to read and write. He added that he was proficient in both reading and writing, and Alice took the form from him.

“There are very few high ranking mercenaries who didn’t know how to read or write,” Alice said. “Though there are a few who are so powerful that reading and writing aren’t needed.” She smiled.

She led him out a waiting George, who had been thinking about his sour luck. How had he managed to join the guild on the same day that Jack would. If he was caught he’d be unable to deal with it.

“I apologise for the wait,” Alice said, bowing her head slightly to George, who dismissed her worries with a hand.

She led them out back to the training field where there were a few mercenaries training. She rang a bell and the mercenaries glanced over to her, nodded, and then left to another area. The field was quite long, allowing many groups to train freely.

A moment later a man appeared. He was tall with a thick beard, wearing scale mail. It was silver, though aged with faded colours and marks and a few dents, though it seemed usable enough. At his side was a sword, and in his hand a wineskin. He drank from his wineskin and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He had short dark hair swept to one side, a thick, but fairly short beard, dark eyes, and tan skin. Jack wondered if he was from the east.

“These the two newbies?” the man asked, his voice gruff. He eyed up the pair, noting that they were both quite young. “These weaklings? What are you, High White First Core and High White Fifth Core?”

“High White First Core,” Jack said, nodding his head.

“High Iron Third Core,” George replied.

The man raised his brows in surprise. “No shit? High Iron Third Core, huh? How old are you?”

“Twenty three,” George replied, aging himself up slightly. Due to his drinking habit and his new appearance, he could get away with the small age gap.

“The name’s Don,” he said, reaching out a hand.

George extended his hand to shake the man’s hand, though the pair quickly clashed their blades together. George didn’t step back as Don expected, instead he pushed forward. Don didn’t step back, instead clashing with George again. He aimed a strike for the man’s head, only to be deflected by George’s quick sword, and the two skid away from one another.

Jack watched in shock and awe. The two were definitely in Iron, this wasn’t something anyone in the White layer could do. The way their blades had blurred and struck together in a single second, it was way too quick.

George stepped back, extending his blade out with one hand lazily. Jack was sure he’d seen the move once before but he wasn’t sure why it was so familiar. Don stepped forward, holding his blade with both hands. He started to circle around George, who followed the man by pivoting as he half bounced from foot to foot, his blade swaying up and down.

Don was currently fighting at roughly Iron Fifth Core, so if George wasn’t at the rank, he’d struggle. Then he sped up and increased his strength so he fought as though he was High Iron, which caused the air to change as he darted forward and clashed with George’s sword. George skid back only a single step, then pushing the man back with his greater strength.

“I’ve confirmed your strength, and you have a mercenary’s mind about you,” Don said, chuckling. Then he glanced down at the other youngster, Jack. “High White, huh?” He extended his sword and then Jack felt cold. He couldn’t even reach for his sword as he felt as though he had died in that instantly.

“W-what?” Jack managed to say.

“Oh? You can talk?” Don smiled. “I didn’t expect you to be able to talk under my pressure. What is your Sword Art?”

“Bloodied Turtle,” Jack replied.

Don looked to Alice, who nodded her head. “So you’re from Bloodwall? Have you met Chief Bloodwall?”

“I have.”

“Oh yeah? Describe his sword sheath.” Don raised his brow.

Jack blinked. “His sword sheath?” He tried to recall his father’s sword belt. “It’s made of black leather, I think it’s Ebony Goat, and the metal buckles and studs are made from eighty three parts iron, twelve parts cobalt, and five parts obsidian. Smith Kanders said that it had taken almost an entire week because he had been trying to perfect the ratio with the obsidian. He let me practise with obsidian, but I wasn’t able to make a dagger with it. Even one parts was really troublesome.” Jack scratched his cheek, laughing nervously.

Don raised his brows even further, looking to Alice. “He can smith?”

“He says he’s Smith Terry’s Apprentice.” Alice smiled.

“If you’re an Apprentice, what are you doing here?” Don asked, looking back to the young man.

“I wanted to become a smith to gain experience.”

Don walked over and then placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Being a mercenary is rough work, very dangerous. If you’re a Smith’s Apprentice, then you need to count your lucky stars and not throw away your life here.”

“Oh…” Jack said, frowning. He looked down and sighed. It seemed fate was not going to let him become a mercenary.

Don scratched his beard. If he was a Smith’s apprentice, and seemingly worked for Smith Kanders, the Bloodwall Smith, then maybe they had found a decent asset. “Since you’re looking to do mercenary work, why don’t we accept your application and you can repair a sword we have to see if you can do that kind of work.”

Jack smiled wide, his eyes sparkling with joy. So he could do that kind of work at the mercenary guild!