Faerun: The arcane mage is still too imprisoned.

Lance smiled.

This fits the stereotype of Graham Ironfist held by the people of Rield—a tough, serious, and unscrupulous pragmatist.

"That's good."

"So, go ahead and do what you want." Arya stood beside the carriage, opening the door for him. "As long as you don't cross the line, this city will accept your...specialness."

Lance boarded the carriage and looked at Arya through the window.

The lady stood under the lamplight, her fiery red hair fluttering in the night breeze, her deep purple dress outlining her mature and sexy curves, and her amber eyes gleaming in the shadows.

"See you tomorrow, Ms. Arya."

"See you tomorrow, Mr. Lance." She waved. "Take care on the road."

The carriage departed Silverglow Manor and merged into the night of Rield City. Lance leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and savored the day's experiences.

Lillian's dilemma, Arya's ambiguous feelings, the attitude of the city lord's mansion...

"How interesting," he muttered to himself.

It was already 8 p.m. when we got back to the villa in the riverside area.

Lance pushed open the door. The living room was only lit by a magic lamp, and the light was not very bright.

"Celsa?" he called out.

"Here I am, Lord Lance."

The sound came from the second floor. Lance looked up and saw Cielsa standing at the top of the stairs.

But the feeling she gives off... seems different.

The girl was still wearing that specially modified maid outfit, the dark black fabric and white lace creating a striking contrast in the dim light.

However, her posture changed, and so did her temperament—she was no longer the delicate half-elf girl, but rather like a cheetah ready to pounce at any moment.

You could vaguely sense that she had already distanced herself from the ordinary.

What caught Lance's attention even more were her eyes.

Those violet eyes shimmered in the darkness, exquisite and sharp.

"Celsa, what's wrong with you...?" Lance narrowed his eyes and focused his attention.

A pale blue panel unfolded in his field of vision:

[Target: Cielsa]

[Race: Half-elf]

[Occupation: Ranger]

[Level: 1]

"You've become a full-fledged professional?" Lance asked, somewhat surprised. "When did that happen?"

She leaped down the stairs, her dress billowing slightly, her footsteps so light they made almost no sound.

She walked up to Lance, one foot slightly back, and gently lifted the sides of her skirt with both hands.

With her back straight, eyes slightly lowered, and a smile that blended pride and shyness on her face, she gave a graceful curtsy: "It was this afternoon... I had a feeling it would happen in the next few days."

"After you went to teach, I practiced archery at home, and suddenly... I got the hang of it."

"Feeling?" Lance was taken aback. "What kind of feeling?"

When Lance became an [Arcanist], it was over in a flash, and there wasn't anything particularly special about it.

"It's a natural feeling." Cielsa's gaze became distant. "It's like the forest is calling to me, the wind is whispering to me. And then I knew, I had truly become a ranger."

"Doesn't that sound like a druid?"

Lance didn't think much of it and looked her over with interest: "Oh? So you should have learned at least one knight-errant trick by now. Show me?"

Sissa's expression suddenly turned a little awkward: "Um...you might not know much about this...I don't know any magic."

"Huh?" Lance was taken aback. "Then why did you say you sensed the call of nature?"

"And..." he asked with some doubt, "Can one become a ranger without knowing ranger magic?"

"Who says a knight-errant must master magic to become a knight-errant!"

Sissa's voice grew louder, and her face became even redder.

"Most rangers don't know magic," Cielsa explained, her voice softening as she leaned closer.

She blinked, seemingly finding Lance's surprise unreasonable.

"Magic is a miracle that blossoms only in the souls of a few... Lord Lance, a genius like you may not understand the plight of us mortals."

"Apart from warlocks, paladins, priests... those professions that do not need to learn spells themselves, most other professions that should theoretically master spells never manage to use a single magic trick until they die."

"As for rangers... some rangers have already reached the pinnacle of the path, yet they haven't even mastered a single ranger spell!"

"So it's perfectly reasonable that they don't know magic!"

"Furthermore, a ranger's strength primarily comes from physical combat skills, such as swordsmanship, knife skills, and archery. Magic is merely an add-on, not a necessity."

Lance blinked, then chuckled, "Alright!"

He really didn't know that.

In the game's setting of the previous life, rangers clearly had the ability to cast spells, but it seems that the rules of the real world of Faerûn are more flexible and changeable.

"However," he changed the subject, "now that you've become a wandering knight, I'll teach you wandering knight magic from now on."

Sielsa's eyes lit up, but then dimmed again: "Thank you, Lord Lance! But I might not be able to learn it... My ability to sense magic is alright, but my intelligence might not be enough."

"It's alright." Lance reached out and ruffled her hair. "A ranger who can't use magic can be very strong, but a ranger who can use magic... is even stronger. Give it a try, and if it doesn't work, that's fine."

"Mmm!" Cielsa nodded vigorously, then, as if remembering something, she suddenly leaned closer to Lance, her small nose twitching slightly.

"Lord Lance, you... have an unfamiliar scent."

Her tone was calm, but a strange light flickered in her purple eyes.

Lance raised an eyebrow: "Perhaps it's Ms. Arya's; didn't I go to her house today?"

"Oh~" Cielsa drawled, her fingers lightly tracing Lance's collar. "That lady... isn't she beautiful? Fiery red hair, stunning looks, a mature and sexy figure, the status of a viscount, and she's a professional far superior to others."

The resentment in his words was so obvious it was almost overflowing.

Lance grabbed her mischievous hand, a half-smile on his face: "What's wrong, are you jealous?"

"No, I didn't." Cielsa turned her face away, but her fingers gripped Lance's hand tightly. "I'm just... curious. Does Lord Lance like that type?"

"Of course I like her," Lance said, pulling her into his arms. "But to be precise, I like all types."

Lance leaned down and whispered in her ear, "After all, we've been discussing this issue in depth these past few nights."

Cielsa's ears turned red instantly. She struggled slightly, but the movement was so gentle it sounded like she was being coquettish.

"Then... shall we continue our discussion today?" she asked softly, her purple eyes looking up at Lance with a moist gaze.

Lance laughed, then swept her up in his arms and said, "What do you think?"

Cielsa gasped, wrapped her arms around Lance's neck, buried her face in his shoulder, and chuckled softly, "Lord Lance, after I become a professional, I can..."

The stairs creaked underfoot, and the door to the second-floor bedroom was gently closed.