It was already a proven fact that the intelligence stat provided increased mana regeneration for outworlders. They showed vast improvement with their mana pools compared to the average person in Hovestile. Even intense progression with native spellcasters was no match for an outworlder when it came to mana in the long-term. But native spellcasters did have an edge with the concept and actual spellcasting.

Most outworlders preferred other classes since natives attended the university and learned spells at a young age, making them far more competent in usage and understanding. Advanced spellcasting required more than just hard work and stat boosts. It wasn't as simple as learning an active skill and channeling through a weapon or parts of the body.

Interesting stuff, Alphonse thought as he stifled a yawn with his hand.

The integration of outworlders and natives happened so naturally that Alphonse hadn't even noticed that each side sometimes adhered to certain specialties. He couldn't recall meeting an outworlder that focused on spellcasting. It explained why many of the larger guilds ingested smaller ones that included a mix of individuals from both worlds, and so they just naturally accepted individuals of all classes. The fierce competition was also reserved for the guilds as a whole and shoved aside origins for the sake of pure talent.

Alphonse took a break from his research and musings to observe his surroundings. He fell into the habit of discerning small details with his perception, which included anything from the environment and the people who interacted with it.

The tavern was about what one might expect in Tevilandis, though perhaps cleaner compared to his last experience in Forgedalk. The area was more open with larger, rounded tables for bigger parties of people to converse. The polished oak bar extended along the entirety of one wall's width and curved halfway down the long side. Alphonse imagined that even an outworlder well-versed in the art of drinking would find the setup rather impressive.

It was also brighter compared to the stereotypical dim lighting. He could appreciate this bit of detail. It made observing the area much easier.

Alphonse focused his attention on a group of men playing a game of cards on the far side of the room. He'd always wondered if his perception might ever reach such a level that he could see through a person's expressions -- like, for example, reading someone's poker face. A professional player knew how to make subtle gestures that would be interpreted as lying and use them for a reverse psychology method. It kept a person second-guessing, and incorrect assumptions eventually led to over-thinking. If the perception stat at a high enough level could possibly let him see through such ruses it would be invaluable.

The man on the right with a thick black beard and protruding bottom lip was a master of deception. He'd already won the past three hands – two of which were low pairs with the latter a win by high card. The skinny man with his back to Alphonse always lifted his shoulders slightly when he considered whether to fold or check. He also looked to the right a lot – an indication of deep thinking. Alphonse guessed by the extra extension of movement that he was also trying to see the winner's cards. To his left, a man with an impressive beer belly usually tilted his hand awkwardly, and his fat fingers angled the cards towards the man next to him as he took a sip from his mug. It was like an inability to let one side of his body subconsciously move one way without the other. Alphonse could tell the last man with the clean-shaven head always knew how to take advantage of this as he shifted his eyes to observe the revealed cards.

Alphonse had three stat points in reserve to place as he saw fit. He thought about putting a few in sneak and dexterity. His resistances seemed sufficient so far, and the other stats just didn't seem all that important for his class. He had decided to place all three stat points into perception after he observed the card game for an hour or so. The goal was to find out if he discerned anything new with the extra points placed. Granted, he didn't expect a substantial difference with a few points, but perhaps something he noted might appear that he normally wouldn't think to consider before.

The man on the right again, Alphonse thought. It didn't feel like he was guessing so much anymore.

He received his answer when two of them folded, leaving only the bald man and the bearded fellow. The dappled light reflected the traces of sweat on the big man's smooth head. He reached for his mug to take another sip. Despite tilting his head back to take a swig, Alphonse realized that he didn't drink nearly as much as the exaggerated motion suggested. It wasn't even something he'd think to look for specifically, but he saw it.

The man tossed his cards down in a scattered stack and scoffed. The bearded man rested his hand down and spread the cards out evenly to show his full house of two kings and three tens. His three opponents showed their dismay as they clawed their heads in frustration.

That's eleven guesses right out of sixteen, Alphonse thought. Not too bad.

Alphonse diverted his attention from the card players and examined a few other individuals sitting in pairs or alone. He was early for the outing he'd planned with his guild and the blacksmith, Amelia. Most people didn't start wandering in until early evening. He figured it was as good a time as any to do some research in a relatively quiet place.

He turned to another page in the small book. He had received a summary of the research conducted at the Spire in Forgedalk concerning outworlder stats, but the notebook he sifted through held many specifics. The Guild Union also conducted its own research on outworlders and was in what appeared to be a reluctant collaboration with the Spire. Alphonse wasn't sure if the Guild Union was more open about their findings, or if Kaede had somehow managed to smuggle this information through without the higher-ups knowing.

When he sent Anya to give Kaede the list of supplies for their journey to La'abrine, he hadn't expected the receptionist to throw in something so delicate. He was grateful for the information but hoped that it didn't put Kaede in an unfavorable position if someone were to find out she lent classified information to an adventurer.

Alphonse decided to make it up to her when he returned.

His other hand rested on the table next to a quill and inkwell in case there were certain notes that might prove beneficial out in the field, or that warranted further research. This other book that he used for his outlines was a disguised version of the Construct Contract. It could be used as a regular book when he wasn't making a deal with it. If conjured normally, it appeared as no more than an unremarkable, normal book without the silver tracings on the cover.

He moved on to the next section of research.

Resistance stats were pretty easy to study. Experiments with increased amounts of inimical potions and ailments showed that outworlders had greater resistance as the dosages were increased. Alphonse had yet to encounter an enemy that used spells or skills that inflicted the curse ailment, but he still placed stat points for the resistance just in case. The word alone made him nervous.

The most pressing question had always been: how much did stats actually benefit an outworld adventurer? Based on the research, one might assume that the other unconfirmed stats did indeed provide benefits. This prompted outworlder warriors, archers and other combat classes to invest more points into the stats that improved their choice of fighting style and role in a party.

Then there was a stat highly valued by scouts, but even the most dedicated found themselves placing points into specialties that focused on physical aspects. Perception had helped Alphonse immensely over his journey. If he hadn't understood its intrinsic values back when he almost died in the dungeon in Mesatend Forest, then he would have never met Kirie and Asa.

Alphonse slapped the book shut and reached for the mug of ale sitting towards the center of the table. He took a swig of the lukewarm drink as he thought back on those times. Would things have been different if the people back on Earth finished their research on Hovestile's System? What changes would he have made to build himself into who he was? It was clear that the people on Earth had been hasty about sending them to Hovestile before the designated date, but they had lost contact with Earth immediately upon their arrival.

He reasoned that the outcome would have been similar. The way he was raised by his father all those years secluded in the mountains, and his inherent caution nurtured from childhood held too much influence.

I'll lose my mind if I don't take a break, Alphonse thought. There was only so much preparation he could do until it started being more detrimental than helpful.

He rested the Construct Contract next to him on the booth's seat and masked it with the table, keeping his eyes focused in front of him all the while. He decided to keep the book in its physical form. It would seem strange if someone observed him and noticed that the book disappeared.

Alphonse glanced to the side and frowned when he noticed that a new individual had entered the tavern. She wore a casual rust-colored dress that fell to just below her knees. Her straight raven-black hair brushed her shoulders with a thin braid dangling over one side of her face, and a butterfly clip held the style in place that matched her dark green eyes.

Alphonse couldn't place it, but something about the woman felt familiar.

She approached his table with calm, yet seemingly restrained steps. It was almost as if she wasn't used to the dress she wore, but her strides weren't entirely ungraceful. She didn't break eye contact and stopped a few feet from his table and waited patiently for him to acknowledge her.

Alphonse decided to humor her as the familiarity continued to tug at the back of his mind.

“Can I help you with something?” Alphonse asked. He gestured to a seat across from him and was surprised when the young woman either disregarded it or simply didn't notice. Instead, she lithely stepped to the side and chose to sit next to him in his booth against the wall. She kept a respectable distance between them, but the awkwardness had Alphonse instinctively shifting a few extra inches away from her.

She propped her elbows on the table and laced her fingers. “Yes, I believe you can, Mister McCarthy.”

Alphonse didn't betray any surprise at the statement. “We've met before,” he said. It was a bit of a shot in the dark, but for some reason, he felt certain about it.

“Quite the observation,” the woman said, “Considering how I was wearing a mask at the time.”

It wasn't hard to fit the pieces together. “The eastern demihuman district,” Alphonse said. “You were with the alchemist.”

“It seems you really do value the qualities of an assassin,” she said. She paused as a waitress approached their table and rested a mug down for her. This simple act spurred Alphonse's thought process. He couldn't recall when she ordered a drink, which meant she had escaped his notice for longer than he was comfortable with. He then considered that perhaps the waitress knew her as a regular, but that didn't seem right.

She noticed his questioning look and made a sly grin. "One element of being an assassin is a technique my clan calls selective perception. It is a useful tool for when you want certain people aware of you and others oblivious. Sometimes you want people to focus on others as well – sometimes not at all. It all depends on how you interpret the situation.”

Alphonse was taken aback by the unexpectedly candid explanation. He turned from her and examined the tavern once again. There were nine people total. The area was open with no concealment unless someone hid under a table, and even that was being generous. There was a space behind the bar, of course, but the setup required a person to either jump over or use the swinging door at the shorter end. He had also scoped the place out beforehand. There was no back exit or alleys to either side since the buildings hugged too tight.

But how exactly did she escape my notice? Alphonse wondered. Did she use an active skill or something?

“Your perception is impressive,” the woman said, interrupting his thoughts. “Most people take at least thirty seconds to notice me. It took you only ten – just enough time for me to hail the waitress for a drink.”

“Even so, how can you hide from someone that looks directly at you?” Alphonse asked. "I always make it a point to face the door."

“That's not possible,” she answered. “It only works through peripheral vision. You may be positioned towards something of interest, but your eyes won't always comply. You'd be amazed how subtle gestures and body language will influence others to do things involuntarily. But even that barely worked on you.”

Alphonse made an attempt to piece together exactly what she was saying. Basically, she used some method to divert his attention so that he would only keep her in his peripheral vision. She influenced whatever was in the room to her advantage that would hold his focus. This kept him occupied by means of this so-called selective perception, which then allowed her to essentially conceal her presence from him. He thought that he had a pretty good grasp of her explanation; however, it still baffled him. Comprehending it was one thing, but fully understanding how was quite another.

“Spacial awareness can be manipulated to a degree, and when we look at our own interpretations of what perception forms we deepen our understanding. I can teach you, if you like,” she said.

Alphonse drummed his fingers on the table to hide his unease. The offer seemed to come out of nowhere. She had met him once at the eastern district in Forgedalk when they fought against the mysterious spellcaster who held the other Construct Contract. They exchanged a few words and then went their separate ways. He wondered if it had something to do with protecting Jin Hanlon's friend, Evelyn Fortellia. If this woman concealed herself in such a masterful way, then she might have been watching him for who knew how long.

“How rude of me. I haven't introduced myself.” She held her hand out to him. “Mina.”

Alphonse clasped her hand and realized how smooth and delicate it was. She had a solid grip for someone with such a deceptive figure.

Just like Ash, he thought. But it wasn't quite the same.

“Evan McCarthy,” he said after a brief hesitation.

“Nice to finally meet you, Evan. I know it is sudden, but would you consider my offer?”

Alphonse eased his arm on the table and realized that the room was steadily crowding with more patrons. He expected his guild members and Amelia to show up any minute. He wondered if he should stall for a bit longer until that time came. Mina spoke in a way that made him feel like he was teetering back on his heels. The conversation wasn't necessarily one-sided or confrontational in any way. She just spoke matter-of-factly and to the point.

“Why would you teach me?” he asked.

Mina gave him an appreciative look as she traced the rim of her mug with a finger. When she smiled, Alphonse started to catch on and realized that her expressions were mostly forced. To any bystanders, it would look like she was simply being flirtatious. She was good at what she did. Better than good.

“The words of Ashliv Diavelia carry much weight in our organization, even if she is no longer a part of it,” Mina answered. “Our people know how much she despises humans. For her to recommend a human is...unprecedented. And there is also Kureha...”

'Organization?' Alphonse wondered. He knew that Ash held no love for humans. He knew that Ash harbored plenty of secrets. She had made her stance abundantly clear with her declaration before he left Forgedalk -- that the door of her tea shop was always open to him. But Alphonse's next question popped into his head mostly because he thought he at least had some grasp of Kureha's character. But now, he started to wonder about the kindhearted wolf beastkin's own past.

“Kureha? Why her?” Alphonse asked.

“I found it strange as well. According to Ash, she has an uncanny ability to read others. She doesn't trust so easily." Mina reached into the side of her dress and fished out an envelope. She stared at it for a moment before offering it to him.

Alphonse took the envelope and looked at the blank wax seal. It danced between his fingers as he checked for any slits or breaks. There was no evidence that someone tampered with the letter inside.

“It's from Kureha,” Mina explained.

Alphonse frowned. Kureha took the time to write me a letter?

He didn't realize that the wolf girl thought of him so fondly. He did feel like they had become friends after his time spent at the tea shop, but sending a letter made him feel even closer to her.

He was about to ask Mina more about the letter until he saw something unexpected. Alphonse had to suppress a sudden laugh as he watched the woman drain the rest of her nearly-full mug. She rested it on the table carefully and stood to leave. It certainly didn't fit the proper look she was going for.

She noticed his demeanor change and shrugged. “It's hard to maintain multiple personas. Sometimes they blend together.”

Alphonse shook his head. “You do seem like more of the concise, stoic type.”

Her eyes narrowed for only a split-second at the observation. He didn't know why he said that. It was as if he could see what was underneath her immaterial mask of personalities. If it was possible now, even just a little bit, he wondered what else he might tap into. Another word she mentioned was prominent from their conversation. She referred to his qualities as those of mostly an assassin – not a scout.

Is it my perception? Alphonse wondered. He looked at the slight mounds on her head, partially obscured by the black bandanna that matched her hair. It didn't seem meant to necessarily conceal. Perhaps it was for convenience, or to make humans more at ease in the presence of a beastkin if they weren't entirely obvious.

Rabbit ears, Alphonse surmised.

He shook his head and realized that the beastkin had thrown him off-topic. He wondered if this was also a result of the selective perception she spoke of.

“What exactly are these teachings?” Alphonse asked.

Mina gave him one of her half-smiles. “You already know the answer to that. You've been researching us for a while now.” The beastkin turned to leave with a bit of added grace. She waved her hand in a farewell and looked over her shoulder in a way that onlookers might interpret as seductive. “You can find me to the north of the city at Lake Ellnmoor. I will be there tomorrow at the same time. Don't tarry long.”

Alphonse kept his composure as he watched her lithe form accentuate her statement. He held back the urge to swallow and maintained a neutral countenance. A couple of drinkers at a nearby table chuckled in his direction, obviously thinking that a poor, young man's heart had been toyed with by some clever vixen. He did his best to ignore them.

It was like a delayed reaction. Holy shit, Alphonse thought. She's from the Shin'ryen tribe.

This woman, Mina, was a member of the secret organization he'd learned about nearly a half year ago from Sebastian's daughter, Eve. The research he conducted in Forgedalk turned up more tall tales about the assassin tribe than actual facts, which only added to their obscurity. And here was one of those assassins with an offer to learn their ways.

Then Ash...was a Shin'ryen assassin?

He looked up just as Mina opened the front entrance of the tavern. She stepped aside as a group of individuals entered. She bowed to them and they thanked her for holding the door. Alphonse recognized Kirie as she entered first, followed by the rest of his guild. The catgirl waved to him enthusiastically and ran towards his table with none of the elegance displayed by Mina.

The assassin gracefully slipped out just as the last person entered.