"Another thing, if possible, let's keep this change just between us," Jamie advised Thomas.

"You're not planning on evolving the rest of the group?" Thomas asked, momentarily puzzled.

"Oh, we will," Jamie replied, "but I'm low on experience right now, and I'm not about to send anyone on risky quests just to gather more points. Besides, we need a solid plan before we attempt to evolve someone else. We have no idea what quest they might get next. If it turned out to be that same ability-based challenge, people like Bertram or Aldwin might not be able to finish it, even with hundreds of mana potions."

Thomas paused, frowning thoughtfully, then nodded. "Makes sense."

--

Since the incident with [Plow], Thomas had refrained from using the skill again, allowing himself time to adjust to the newfound changes it had wrought within him. Though his status indicators showed no discernible alterations, he felt a surge of strength coursing through his veins, a subtle but undeniable enhancement.

This sensation perplexed Jamie; it defied logical explanation, yet he couldn't deny the palpable difference in his companion. At the very least, Thomas had gained a new skill, and that was progress.

After some days of well-earned rest, Thomas resumed his usual duties at the Golden Fiddle tavern. Along with Jamie, they were preparing for the initial test of their next recruitment.

"Any issues we need to address for today?" Jamie inquired, looking up from a stack of parchment filled with notes and plans.

"None whatsoever," Thomas replied confidently. "Everything's set and ready."

"Good to hear." Jamie pushed back his chair, the wooden legs scraping softly against the floor as he rose and stretched, rubbing the lingering fatigue from his eyes. "Who will be minding the tavern while we're away?"

"Bertram will handle things here," Thomas explained. "He's more than capable of defending the place if needed. Besides, his combat style is... a bit too defensive for the second test. He might end up injuring himself. It's best he sits this one out."

Jamie nodded in agreement. "Makes sense. All right then, let's get moving."

He closed the ledger and locked the office door behind them. The scent of aged wood and the distant hum of midday patrons filled the air as they made their way through the tavern's main hall and stepped out into the street.

Jamie couldn't shake a nagging uncertainty about their recent investment in the local newspaper. Sponsoring it had seemed like a bold move, but without knowing the extent of its circulation or how many copies were actually sold, doubts lingered in his mind. Still, he was optimistic that the turnout for the recruitment would be even better than their last event.

"We're skipping the running this time," Jamie mused aloud, his gaze distant as he considered their strategy. "That should level the playing field a bit. Give those without rigorous training a fairer chance to show their performance."

Thomas glanced over, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "You think that'll help the kind of recruits we're aiming for?"

Jamie smiled thoughtfully. "I think so. The new first trial is designed to reveal qualities I'm particularly interested in. It'll be more challenging in ways that a race couldn't achieve."

They continued their journey, the familiar urban landscape gradually giving way to the outskirts. Buildings became sparser, and the hum of the city softened into a quieter, more rustic ambiance.

However, as the village came into view, Jamie found himself momentarily disoriented. The quaint settlement he remembered had transformed dramatically. The modest cluster of homes and open spaces was now teemed with people. The narrow dirt paths between houses were crowded, every available bench and patch of earth occupied.

Jamie exchanged a surprised glance with Thomas. "Well, it seems the newspaper did its job better than expected," he remarked.

"Looks that way," Thomas agreed, surveying the throng. "This is far more than a hundred. We might be looking at several hundreds, if not thousands."

"Indeed." Jamie felt intrigued that the ad had worked so well. The sheer number was staggering, but it also meant a wider pool of potential talent.

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"Make way! Clear the path!" Thomas called out, taking the lead as they ventured into the crowd. His voice carried authority, and he used his imposing presence to gently but firmly navigate through the crowd. Some people stepped aside respectfully upon recognizing them, whispers rippling through the assembly.

"That's their leader," whispered a rugged man, his eyes narrowed with skepticism.

"He looks so weak," scoffed another.

"Don't be fooled," cautioned an older fellow with a scar tracing his jawline. "He's vicious. I heard he killed a man using only his thumb."

As Jamie made his way through the dense crowd, the murmur of strange and wild rumors swirled around him. Faces turned toward him, a mix of curiosity and apprehension reflecting in their eyes. The whispers ebbed and flowed, fragments of conversation reaching his ears.

"Your thumb?" Jay, the spectral cat perched invisibly upon Jamie's shoulder, arched an eyebrow. "How in the world would you kill someone with just a thumb?" he mused aloud, his voice audible only to Jamie.

Jamie offered no answer, his expression composed yet inwardly amused by the absurdity of the claims. While he could conjure a few methods such a deed might be accomplished, it hardly seemed worth entertaining. There were more pressing matters at hand.

The crowd grew as more people joined the procession, trailing after Jamie and his companions like a river converging upon the sea. Had they not arranged this gathering outside the city walls, they might easily have been mistaken for the stirrings of a rebellion.

Finally, they reached the clearing where Jamie and the company often came to train.

At the center of the clearing stood a newly constructed platform, sturdy and elevated, built expressly for the day's purpose. It provided ample space for the trials to come and allowed those gathered a clear view of the proceedings. Four chairs were arranged upon it, awaiting Jamie, Thomas, Aldwin, and Camille.

Climbing the steps to the platform, Jamie turned to face the assembly. From this vantage point, he could see the sheer number of people who had arrived. The crowd stretched out before him, a tapestry of faces marked by sun and toil. There were laborers with calloused hands, merchants in simple attire, youths with eyes alight with ambition, and seasoned workers who bore the weight of years upon their shoulders.

"Let's begin," Jamie announced, his voice carrying across the expectant hush that fell over the crowd.

As he surveyed the candidates, he noted the shift in demographics. While there were still those who bore the hardened edges of street life it was clear that many present were common folk from the Lower Quarter rather than thieves or gang members.

"Is this the effect of the newspaper?" Jamie leaned slightly toward Aldwin, his question pitched low.

Aldwin shook his head subtly, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd. "Doubt it," he replied with certainty. Born and raised in the Lower Quarter, Aldwin knew its inhabitants well. "Ten silver coins for a paper? Most here wouldn't spare that kind of coin, not when it could feed a family for days."

"Then it must be our natural popularity," Jamie mused, a hint of satisfaction threading through his tone.

Aldwin nodded, his gaze thoughtful. "Especially after taking down two gangs. Word spreads quickly. But more than that, everyone knows the Mercenary Company is connected to the Golden Fiddle tavern. And there's not a soul who hasn't heard about the success of our beer."

'They must be from the Academy,' Jamie observed, his gaze picking out a handful of individuals scattered among the crowd. Though they attempted to blend in with the common folk, their bearing and the subtle quality of their attire betrayed them. They weren't seasoned veterans, but neither were kids. Jamie knew they could present a challenge. 'They are accustomed to a different world who would need to adapt to our way of doing things.'

"Follow me!" Jamie called out, his voice cutting through the chatter.

The crowd stirred like a beast awakening. Hundreds fell into step behind him as he led them down a side path that meandered away from the village.

They approached a gentle hill, its slopes adorned with wildflowers swaying in the warm breeze. Jamie and his fellow evaluators ascended the rise, while the crowd gathered below. At the base of the hill stretched a vast expanse, concealed beneath a massive canvas tarp. Curiosity flickered in the eyes of many; hushed conversations rippled through the crow.

Reaching the crest, Jamie paused. With a flourish, the bard grasped the edge of the tarp and pulled it aside, the heavy fabric sliding away to reveal the challenge that awaited.

A collective gasp arose from the assembled hopefuls.

Before them lay a field stretching nearly a kilometer, an expanse of thick, clinging mud that gleamed wetly under the sunlight. Scattered throughout were small wooden stakes, rough-hewn and firmly planted in the earth. Between them, crisscrossed a network of iron and copper wires, some strands barbed and sharpened, forming a tangled web that glinted ominously.

"Up on the hills," Jamie announced, his voice carrying easily across the open space, "each of the evaluators will be armed with bows and arrows. They will be aiming so that the arrows fly just above the metal wires."

A ripple of unease spread among the crowd. Eyes darted to the evaluators, who stood impassively, bows in hand.

"Your task is simple," Jamie continued. "Crawl to the other side of the field. No magic of any kind is permitted." His gaze hardened, and his tone grew stern. "Stand up at any point during the trial, and you risk being impaled by an arrow."

A hush fell. The weight of the challenge settled upon them like a mantle. Faces that had brimmed with excitement moments ago now mirrored uncertainty, determination, or a blend of both.

"Are you prepared?" Jamie called out.

A murmur of assent rose up.

"Three... two... one... start!"

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