The next morning, they overslept.
It was as if months of exhaustion—of surviving, fighting, and running—had finally caught up with them.
For the first time in what felt like forever, they weren't running from death.
They finally had time to rest.
Still, old habits die hard. Vael woke first and quietly slipped downstairs to grab their morning meal.
It was nice not having to cook for once.
As he descended the stairs, he noticed just how packed the tavern attached to the inn was.
Laughter echoed through the room, mugs clinked together, and the smell of cheap alcohol filled the air. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.
A far cry from the slums of yesterday.
People old and young were drinking and eating as if the world were ending tomorrow.
The most notable scene was a heated debate between two jacked men about which one of their cats was the cutest.
Reaching the counter, Vael handed his free meal pass to the waitress.
"What's the most popular dish?" he asked.
"That would be our famous beef stew," the woman replied.
"Great, I'll take three of those," said Vael.
"Right away, sir," she responded with a nod.
Vael sat down at the counter to wait for the food, letting his mind wander to what needed to be done before the entrance exam.
First, he and Kiera needed to reach Stage Three.
And with the money they had, that would be a piece of cake.
Second, all three of them would need new identities.
Well, Ash didn't need a new identity—she just needed any identity. She was just an orphan no one truly knew, after all.
That led Vael to another question: how had the rebels and tribesmen managed to reach a stalemate with two powerful Empires?
After all, the rebels lacked the uniformity and structure the Empires had. Most of their actions were carried out in the shadows.
'Well, corruption isn't doing the Empires any favors, is it?' Vael thought with a smug grin.
Anyway, alongside new identities, they would also need new clothes—but that wouldn't be a problem.
Lastly, they had to train and register for the entrance exam as commoners, not rebels.
Because unless they wanted to live in hell at the Academy, they couldn't afford to be seen as enemies by both nobles and civilians alike.
Once those tasks were done, they'd be ready for the next step in their journey.
At that moment, the waitress came back with three steaming bowls of stewy heaven.
"Your stews, sir."
Vael took them with a nod, and headed back upstairs, in his room.