Clothes are not as good as new, houses are not as good as old (mist)

The Flaming Fist mercenary guild, responsible for the security and defense of the entire Baldur's Gate, truly lived up to its reputation. The Flaming Fist headquarters completely overturned Zhang Yuan's previous understanding of mercenaries gleaned from fantasy novels.

The towering headquarters building possessed a grandeur and scale that was in no way inferior to a Grand Duke's mansion.

As the guild's headquarters, its architectural style was deeply rooted in military fortress design, with all buildings enclosed and protected by a thick city wall and several watchtowers.

It was less a guild hall and more a robust fortress stronghold.

As Zhang Yuan was about to step through the main gate, he was stopped by a guard. "Please present your identification documents," a tall, stern-faced, and expressionless Flaming Fist soldier said, motioning for him to halt.

A temporary residence permit from another plane? Do you think this is the Imperial City or the Magic City? This country bumpkin is truly astonished. With no connections here, he's a complete undocumented resident right now – how could he possibly have any identification?

"What do you require as identification?" Zhang Yuan asked cautiously, hoping to gather information.

"A letter of guarantee from a Baldur's Gate citizen, a residency certificate issued by the city hall, certification from a professional guild, or mercenary identification are all acceptable," the guard recited the sentence without any inflection, as if reciting from memory.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot to bring it today. Goodbye!" Zhang Yuan, having gotten nowhere, uttered and turned to leave. Just then, several young people in mage robes walked past not far ahead, laughing and chatting as they entered a luxurious mansion.

Mages like them live in mansions, while I, also a mage, have nowhere to belong. How unfair life is.

Wait, a mage? Why shouldn't I, a dignified mage, use magic to prove myself?

He had already cast Mage Armor from memory, so only Lesser Malison remained.

Having made up his mind, Zhang Yuan looked around for a small animal to target. He couldn't possibly cast it on a person, could he? He was here to consult, not to cause trouble.

After scanning the surroundings for a while, he finally found a large rat hiding in a dark corner. Zhang Yuan turned back towards the gate guard, pointed at the rat, and shouted, "Look at that rat!"

Then he began to chant and cast, forming arcane gestures with his hands. The visual display alone was enough to awe ordinary people.

"Vita, Mortis, Careo," as the final notes fell, a bewitching red orb of light shot from his hand, striking the rat before it could even react.

The rat, not entirely innocent, died on the spot. A faint white light flew from its corpse towards a certain origin.

As the white light merged with his body, Zhang Yuan felt as if he had drunk from a healing potion. The skin, previously scratched all over by the coarse fabric of his clothes, instantly returned to its former pristine condition.

"This must be the life force absorbed by the spell," he mused. As one of the few healing spells in the arcane school, its effect made Zhang Yuan feel it was well worth the cost.

After killing the rat with Lesser Malison in front of the guard, Zhang Yuan watched him, thinking the guard now knew he was a mage and would respectfully welcome him in.

To his surprise, the guard looked at Zhang Yuan in confusion and said, "Thank you for eliminating a pest for our city. However, we can't let you in just because you killed a rat."

??? A million alpacas with question marks stampeded through his mind. Zhang Yuan was stunned speechless by this unexpected response.

Fortunately, the obtuse one was only the guard in front of him. The guard beside them hurried over to apologize for his comrade, then turned and reprimanded, "Weren't those spells just cast by this esteemed mage before us? Is this genuine magic less convincing than a piece of paper?"

The previous tall guard blinked in confusion, let out a couple of awkward chuckles, bowed, and retreated.

The guard who had rushed over explained to Zhang Yuan, the Mage, "Mage Sir, my partner earlier had no intention of causing you trouble; he's just a bit slow on the uptake. Oh, by the way, my name is Kent. May I ask your esteemed name?"

Seeing the other guard's politeness, Zhang Yuan understood that this was perhaps the privilege of mages. As rare spellcasters, they always received overt or subtle preferential treatment. If a common warrior forgot his identification and started playing with his sword at someone's doorstep, would they let him in?

Zhang Yuan thought for a moment and suddenly had a small idea. "You're welcome; you can just call me Charnem."

"Lord Charnem, please follow me." Kent, slightly puzzled by Zhang Yuan's alias, didn't think much of it, assuming the name from Kara-Tur might have slight variations.

Following Kent through the gate and heading directly towards the Flaming Fist guild's administrative office, Zhang Yuan learned the name of the other guard, Sory, during their conversation.

Carefully navigating the conversation with Kent, Zhang Yuan finally reached the administrative office. He breathed a sigh of relief, no longer needing to fabricate tales about the customs and interesting stories of his hometown, "Kara-Tur," to deal with the curious young man beside him.

The receptionist at the Flaming Fist office treated Zhang Yuan courteously after Kent's introduction. "Respected Mage, to avoid today's troubles, you can obtain a proof document from us at the Flaming Fist or the mage tower. However, our fees are much cheaper than theirs."

After inquiring about the price, Zhang Yuan reluctantly handed over five silver coins for the document and then stated his original purpose for visiting.

The receptionist, having just profited from Zhang Yuan, didn't immediately act as a real estate agent. Instead, he suggested, "Since you are a mage, you could join a mage tower or a spellcasting organization in Baldur's Gate, or sign a contract with us Flaming Fist. This way, you wouldn't have to spend your own money on accommodation."

The other party's words were sincere, and Zhang Yuan, catching the underlying recruitment intent, could only politely decline. "Thank you for your hospitality, but it's not false modesty; as a novice mage, how could I possibly serve as a mage for the Flaming Fist? I must ask you to find someone more suitable."

Zhang Yuan then continued, "I plan to take some time to consider which spellcasting organization to join. In the meantime, I hope to find a place to stay in the city of Baldur's Gate, whether it's renting or lodging, I'm open to either."

The receptionist, unperturbed by the refusal, simply became less enthusiastic. He nodded and said, "Lodging is not our responsibility. However, if you wish to rent those old houses south of the city gate, you can pay a deposit here first, and we will assign someone to escort you in choosing."

Zhang Yuan gasped when he heard the minimum deposit was 50 gold coins and immediately wanted to turn and leave.

The receptionist, sensing Zhang Yuan's predicament, kindly suggested he pick up a bounty mission from the Flaming Fist guild. "After all, many of our young men would be interested in teaming up with a mage, and earning enough bounty shouldn't be too difficult."

A single coin can stump a hero. As this was currently the most reliable way to earn money, Zhang Yuan decided to accept the suggestion, but at the same time, he resolved to...

...start with the simplest tasks, preferably fighting weaklings like goblins or kobolds.

Zhang Yuan, whose desire for caution was practically etched onto his face, naturally prioritized stability. As for why he didn't just take on any mission?

Ever since he learned that he had arrived in the dangerous world of Faerûn, Zhang Yuan hadn't dared to hope for a peaceful life. He couldn't just hide forever; even as a mage.

Whether it was the emergence of the Child of Myrkul or other major events, these were catastrophes that swept across entire nations. If he didn't possess the power to control his own destiny at that time, he would be entrusting his life to others, something he absolutely could not accept.

What about finding a mage tower and studying spells until the end of time?

However, being a mage wasn't a profession that could be achieved solely through diligent study behind closed doors. Without capital and accumulation, this path would only become more difficult. After all, the saying that the poor cannot afford to be mages wasn't just a saying; it was naked reality.