Lennox watched from the side as Garrick finished cooking with the same quiet efficiency he seemed to apply to everything.
The thick venison slices sizzled in the pan, golden-brown and glistening with juices as the warrior flipped them one last time before setting the pan aside. Without a word, he picked up a large tray and piled the meat onto it, carrying it to the kitchen table with a calm certainty, as if this were something he did every day.
Lennox, still getting used to the sight of the stoic warrior preparing food with such practiced skill, shook his head in amusement before moving to collect plates from the shelves.
As he set them on the table, Garrick spoke up. "Didn't use all of it."
Lennox turned, raising an eyebrow. "What?"
"The gold you gave me," Garrick clarified, placing a small pouch on the table. "Spent one gold and seventy-five silver. More than one gold left."
Lennox blinked in mild surprise before picking up the pouch and weighing it in his hand. Considering he had given Garrick three full gold coins to buy enough supplies for the week, he had expected the balance to be far lower.
"Efficient and frugal," Lennox muttered, shaking his head with a grin. "I really did luck out with you, huh?"
Garrick didn't respond, merely setting out two simple wooden mugs on the table.
Lennox, considering for a moment, decided to complete the meal properly and turned toward the bar. He strode to the shelves behind the counter and retrieved a bottle of Emberbrew Ale before pouring out two full mugs. As he did, the all-too-familiar chime of the system echoed in his mind.
"One gold coin deducted. Payment for two mugs of Emberbrew Ale confirmed."
Lennox groaned. "Seriously? I'm the tavern master! Why am I getting charged every time I take a drink?"
The system remained silent, as it always did when he questioned its logic. Shaking his head in resignation, he returned to the kitchen table and set the mugs down before settling into his seat.
He wasted no time in reaching for a piece of meat, the rich scent making his mouth water. The moment he took his first bite, his eyes widened slightly. The flavor was incredible—tender, juicy, and packed with a perfect balance of seasoning that enhanced its natural savoriness. Garrick really knew his way around a kitchen.
Lennox chased the bite with a mouthful of Emberbrew Ale, the warm spice blending with the charred richness of the venison in a way that made the flavors even more intoxicating.
Then, as expected, he felt the ale's effects kick in—a warmth spreading through his limbs, a faint surge of energy, and the ever-so-subtle strengthening of his body. He exhaled slowly, feeling his muscles relax and tighten all at once, as though the drink were refining his physique from within.
Across from him, Garrick ate in silence, his movements methodical and controlled. But when the warrior took a sip of the Emberbrew Ale, something unexpected happened—he exhaled sharply, his brows raising slightly.
Lennox smirked, amused that even the ever-composed Garrick had momentarily lost his restraint. "That good, huh?"
Garrick blinked, then quickly schooled his expression back to its usual neutral state. "Good ale," he said simply before returning to his meal.
Lennox chuckled to himself, finishing off the rest of his food while letting his thoughts drift toward his plans for the day.
After the meal, Lennox stretched, pushing back from the kitchen table as the warmth of a satisfying breakfast settled in his stomach. He glanced at Garrick, offering a nod of appreciation. "That was incredible. Didn't expect my first proper meal here to be this good."
The warrior simply grunted in acknowledgment, already clearing away the remaining scraps with his natural efficiency.
The venison had been exquisite, far beyond anything Lennox had expected, and the Emberbrew Ale had only heightened the experience.
Even now, he could feel its lingering effects—a subtle warmth coursing through his veins, sharpening his focus, making his body feel just a fraction stronger. The sensation was strange, almost unnatural, but not unwelcome. If a single mug of ale could have this effect, he could only imagine what higher-tiered drinks might do.
With Garrick remaining downstairs, Lennox made his way up the stairs, his thoughts already drifting back to the book he had left unfinished before breakfast. The Lands of Eldoria: A Traveler's Guide—a weighty tome filled with the knowledge he desperately needed to grasp. He had barely scratched the surface, yet what little he had read had been fascinating.
Stepping into his quarters, he immediately crossed to the mahogany desk by the window, where the book lay open, waiting. The morning light streamed in, illuminating the delicate, aged parchment. He settled into his chair, exhaling as he flipped to the page where he had left off, his fingers tracing over the elegantly penned script.
The moment he began reading, he felt it—the same heightened clarity, the same effortless absorption of information. It seems that the Emberbrew Ale was still at work, enhancing his comprehension, making every word feel vivid and immediate. It was as if the book itself was speaking to him, engraving its knowledge directly into his mind.
The following section of the book detailed the power realms of Aetheris, outlining the hierarchy of strength among warriors, mages, and other mystical paths.
Most people remained at Rank 0—Apprentices, a category divided into four tiers: Primary, Secondary, Advanced, and Peak Stages. These individuals had yet to break through the limits of ordinary humans, though they possessed some minor enhancements, whether through combat training, mana manipulation, or refined technique.
Then came Rank 1—Novices, the first true threshold of power. Warriors who had awakened chi, mages who could command mana, archers whose arrows could bend with the wind, and rogues who moved like shadows—all of them belonged to this realm. Rank 1 individuals were capable of fighting hundreds of normal men alone and were often leaders of small towns, parishes, and counties.
Lennox flipped the page, anticipation thrumming through his veins as he reached the next section. Rank 2 Initiates. Unlike the detailed breakdown of Rank 1s, this section was sparse, almost intentionally vague. Yet, one passage stood out, its words etched in bold, as if to drive home the gravity of what it described:
"To call a Rank 2 Initiate powerful is to misunderstand the term entirely. They are beyond mortal comprehension. A single one of them can obliterate a thousand men with little effort."
Lennox exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on the book's spine. A thousand men? He had already been astounded by what he had read about Rank 1 powerhouses—their ability to take on entire battalions, their status as lords of towns, provinces, and beyond. But Rank 2s? They weren't just warriors or mages anymore; they were forces of nature.
His heart pounded as a single thought solidified in his mind, sharp and undeniable. I need to get there.
As if responding to his silent determination, the system's voice chimed in his mind, its tone even and impassive. "Upgrade the tavern to Level 2, and you will unlock the path to true power."
Lennox inhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. The requirements to upgrade the tavern were steep—20,000 gold coins in sales, 1,000 Rank-One magic beast cores, and a Rank-Two core. Just thinking about it made his head hurt. It wasn't something he could accomplish overnight, but that didn't mean it was impossible.
Step by step. That was the only way forward.
Pushing his thoughts aside for now, he stretched his arms, his muscles stiff from sitting for so long. A glance at the antique-looking clock on the wall made his brow lift in surprise. A few minutes past noon!
Had he really been reading for nearly two hours? He barely felt the passage of time. His mind replayed his earlier speculation—the Emberbrew Ale had to be affecting him more than just physically. Not only had it revitalized his body, but it had also sharpened his concentration, allowing him to absorb knowledge with ease. He made a mental note to test this theory again later, maybe with a different drink.
For now, though, he had more pressing matters.
Closing the heavy tome with a satisfying thud, Lennox rose to his feet and made his way to the door. He had spent the morning equipping himself with knowledge—now it was time to put it to use.
The tavern needed to be opened. More patrons needed to come. More gold needed to be earned.
Because this was the only feasible way he could see himself meeting the requirements to upgrade the Mystic Tavern.