Raise Joan of Arc to be an empress, then discard her.

The nobles all got completely drunk last night. Unlike the nobles of Lodoren, the nobles of Birmingham were used to nightly revelry, to endless balls, and to while away the long nights with wine and music until the sun was high in the sky.

In Rhodoren, you might still see a member of parliament who was drunk the night before, getting out of bed early the next morning, heading to the Parliament building, and giving a spirited speech on stage. This is known as the Rhodoren lifestyle.

But this situation only occurs in big cities. The nobles in Birmingham are mostly used to the slow pace of life here. There are not many major events throughout the year, so getting up for lunch has become their top priority. If you get up too early, you will seem out of place. Therefore, the party usually does not last for just one day, but ends at noon the next day.

Most of the nobles in Birmingham have been invited to the Crystal Palace, and there will likely be a grand event there at noon. After the nobles gradually get up around noon, there will be a luncheon, which the mayor and other important figures will attend. Having lunch with them at noon might make you feel more at ease.

However, Aaron was not so lucky. After finishing his breakfast, he went back to his room to change into his usual clothes and prepared to leave the hotel for their agreed meeting place.

The letter had already been delivered in the morning. They arranged to meet at a restaurant near the Papal District. Aaron told the waiter the address during breakfast, and after breakfast, the doorman had already stopped a carriage for him at the hotel entrance. Aaron could set off as soon as he got into the carriage.

Although the price was a bit high, it was his first day back at work, and he hoped things wouldn't go wrong, so he reluctantly paid.

Nine o'clock in the morning, at an unnamed coffee shop.

This is an old-fashioned coffee shop. The coffee shop is actually an old wooden building. The coffee shop uses a wooden board to attract customers. The lettering on it is written in chalk, showing today's coffee prices and special dishes, and there are also handmade drawings by the owner.

Elliott and Theo sat under a parasol outside the café, one leisurely sipping coffee while the other fiddled with a newspaper behind it.

"Good morning, would you like a cup of coffee?" Elliott asked, offering his coffee to Aaron.

"Good morning, I've already had my drink."

Aaron plopped down next to Elliott: "I never expected we'd meet here."

This commercial street is very close to the Papal District. Because many people go to the church to pray, it's profitable, and the commercial street and other settlements naturally formed here. Unexpectedly, Elliott and Theo are also regulars here. They sat under a parasol, one drinking coffee and the other reading a newspaper, looking no different from the people around them.

"Hehe, I'm not bragging, but we've contributed to this prosperity." Theo, who had been holding a newspaper, peeked out, revealing his large face behind sunglasses. Aaron then realized that Theo had been eating bread behind the newspaper, which was why he hadn't been looking up.

Theo, with crumbs of bread still clinging to his lips, gazed proudly into the distance:

"This place is like our base. We absolutely cannot allow evil to grow here, which is why more and more people are coming here to do business, and the bread tastes better and better."

Elliott pointed to the bright red bread on Theo's plate: "Harriet's bread, we've always thought it tastes just as good as Asgard's bread, would you like to try some?"

Bread that rivals that of Asgard? As someone half-Lucset, Aaron couldn't simply accept that statement. He said, "There will be plenty of opportunities to eat it later." Then, full of confidence, he asked, "When do we officially start working?"

The moment Aaron asked the question, he felt the two of them fall silent. Theo began to quietly concentrate on eating his bread behind the newspaper, holding it up even higher. Elliott looked up into the distance and silently drank his coffee.

To Aaron's surprise, half a minute later, the food on the table was swept away in a flash, like a fast-forwarded animation. Elliot left behind a silver snake and hurriedly ran off with Theo. Before leaving, he said that they were busy today and had a mission, so they were leaving first. As for him, he could study some more at St. Anna's Church today; he still had many things to learn.

Aaron sat there dumbfounded, not yet understanding the situation. Just then, in the noisy coffee shop, someone lifted the hood of their cloak, revealing long, dark blue hair and golden eyes.

The moment Aaron saw her, he froze: "Claire..."

The girl, around twenty years old, held up a finger to her lips, gently shook her head at him, and then said to Aaron, "They're right, you still have a lot to learn."

Her voice echoed through the bustling streets, like a drop of water falling into a spring, yet still sounding cool and pleasant to the ear.

She pulled her hood back up and gestured to the carriage parked beside her: "Get in."

Aaron quickly followed, and before getting into the carriage, he asked Claire, "Where are we going?"

“The bank,” Claire said. “Your account isn’t officially activated yet, so let’s start there.”

*

601 11th Street, Birmingham

Aaron stepped down from the carriage and looked at the black building standing before him.

Pedestrians came and went all around, and tall buildings towered overhead. Although skyscrapers a hundred meters tall had not yet been built in this era,

Surrounded by pedestrians, after boarding the carriage, they had traveled from the secluded Papal District to the heart of Birmingham, a place where land was incredibly valuable. Most of Birmingham's banks stood here, and the building before them, its exterior covered in bronze granite, appeared to be one of them.

Claire, wearing a hood, led Aaron into the building.

The building had already introduced elevators. Aaron had only ever seen magnificent elevators in the theaters of Lodoren, which were used by noble ladies and women in long dresses and could only rise to the fourth or fifth floor. He never expected that this building would have one as well.

The elevator was operated by a waiter in a red uniform. Judging by his attire, he was even more presentable than most of the building's staff. He greeted Claire and Aaron warmly.

"Go to the seventh and a half floor." Claire said to the waiter after entering the elevator.

"Seven and a half floors, okay." The operator deftly manipulated the control lever.

"This building... there's still half a floor...?" Aaron wondered. The elevator's iron doors were closed, and the entire elevator started rumbling.

"Alright, we've reached the seventh and a half floor."

It took a full three minutes for the elevator to reach the required height. The number on the elevator slowly changed to 7. The operator focused intently on the elevator floor. Just as the number gradually changed to 8, the operator suddenly pulled the lever. With a sway, the elevator came to a steady stop.

The elevator doors opened, and the first thing that caught Aaron's eye was a pair of leather shoes and high heels that swept past him from the eighth floor above. This made Aaron realize that he was between the seventh and eighth floors. His gaze went down and he saw a space sandwiched between the seventh and eighth floors. This space seemed to be called the Seven and a Half Floors.

"Thank you."

Claire was the first to duck and crawl between the seventh and eighth floors. Aaron, shocked, followed her in. The operator bowed slightly behind them, the iron door slowly closed, and he silently descended as well.

What kind of person would rent a seven-and-a-half-story building? This was the first thought that flashed through Aaron's mind as he stepped onto the seven-and-a-half-story building.

Judging from the layout alone, the seventh and a half floor is probably no different from other floors, except that everything here is half a height lower. A Doc person of normal height like Aaron can only walk normally inside by bending his head to about shoulder height.

"It must be because they're poor," Aaron thought. "Otherwise, who would want to rent here? Companies that rent this floor probably have their reasons, such as being short of funds and only being able to pay their employees' salaries by renting here. Once they make money, they'll move out, or they might not move at all, or the low rent here is their advantage."

During his walk down the corridor, many thoughts flashed through Aaron's mind, eventually culminating in a muttered sentence: "The rent here must be very cheap..."

"Hmm." Unexpectedly, Claire answered him, "Because the height of the seven and a half floors is only three-fifths of that of other normal floors, the rent is also only three-fifths of that of other floors."

After explaining, Claire skillfully rounded a corner and knocked on the door: "Hello, I'd like to conduct business with Florian Bank."

Florian Bank's business? Aaron was taken aback. Florian Bank's headquarters were here? Wasn't Florian Bank supposed to be very wealthy? Surely they wouldn't skimp on this little bit of rent? For a moment, Aaron even had a feeling that he might have been tricked.

At that moment, the door opened. Aaron heard no sound and saw no one, but the people inside seemed to be inviting them in.

"Excuse me." Claire went into the room, and Aaron followed her in.

The only decent thing about this building is that at least you won't hit your head on the ceiling when you sit down. In other words, as long as you don't have to stand all the time, there's no difference between this floor and the other floors. Apart from the fact that this floor might have fewer windows, thinner gaps between the floors above and below, and less ventilation, this building is actually not bad.

But when he entered the room, he found something strange. Apart from the chairs for guests, all the furniture was miniature. The tables and chairs were miniature. The more he looked at it, the more he felt that the furniture was for children. In short, it was definitely not furniture that adults could use comfortably.

But soon, Aaron realized where the inconsistency came from, because he soon saw something even more jaw-dropping.

The office chair behind the desk turned around, and sitting in it was a mouse wearing a suit and tie. It had a few exceptionally neatly combed whiskers on its face, and two equally neat and beautiful white paws rested on the desk. Its round body was swaying back and forth in the office chair. But no matter how many times Aaron looked at it, the mouse sitting behind the desk was a small, round mouse about the size of a child.

In an instant, everything made sense. Why would such a strange floor, seven and a half stories, exist? Why would anyone rent such a strange floor? It turned out that the tenants here were not normal people, or rather, they were not human at all.

Aaron was so shocked he couldn't speak. The person in charge of Florian Bank's business was a rat? The person handling his business was a rat? Had he fallen under some kind of illusion spell?

“Mr. Lennon, I would like to conduct banking business with the gentleman behind me,” Claire said. This mouse even had its own name, and it was quite a name, sounding like a local mouse.

"Squeak, squeak, squeak!" the mouse replied excitedly, waving its two perfectly colored hands.

“Wh...what?” Aaron tried to understand what the mouse meant.

"Okay." Claire nodded slightly.

"Squeak!"

“He wants you to come forward,” Claire said, turning her head.

Aaron was confused and even felt very uncertain.

Do I need to know the language of mice to conduct business? This language wasn't taught beforehand, but he still sat in the child seat in front of the table as Claire had instructed.

Aaron had always relied on his fluency in multiple languages ​​to travel around the world, which was also how he got along in government buildings. He could understand and speak a few words of various languages, but he had never heard of rats having a language. In his entire life, Aaron had never encountered such a helpless moment.

But when he actually sat down in front of the business mouse, he realized that Claire didn't understand mouse language either. They actually communicated by writing. There was a small wooden board next to the table, and next to the business mouse's desk stood an even smaller mouse wearing a suit and tie. Aaron hadn't seen it before because he was standing too high, but now that he was sitting down, he noticed that there was a little mouse writing on the wooden board next to the table. At this moment, it was greeting Aaron enthusiastically.

"You...hello..." Aaron didn't know what to say.

The little mouse looked smaller and more delicate than the one sitting in the chair. It was using its tiny hands—no, its paws—to try and write something on the wooden board, conveying the message of the business mouse.

Aaron looked down at the words written by the little mouse. The handwriting was actually quite good. It wasn't particularly beautiful, but it was neat and had a delicate touch that mice often have. Moreover, after writing each page of words, the mouse would press its handprint next to it. He wondered what this meant. Was it an anti-counterfeiting mark...?

Chapter 192 Spirit Beast Clan

Aaron quickly realized that the chattering mouse was not only relaying messages to the little mouse, but also communicating with him.

Moreover, it often used certain interjections when communicating, which Aaron couldn't understand, but he was greatly shocked. In short, the business rat in front of him was using its whole body to talk to him, just like many animals. Aaron even felt that the suit he was wearing was somewhat restrictive for it to sit in the chair.

“This…this…” Aaron didn’t understand what he meant for a moment, but the little mouse next to him had already placed a wooden board on the table, on which were written neatly in Dock script:

"Please tell me your name, age, and the business you conducted at the bank, sir." A mouse mark was also stamped next to it.

“Um… I… should I answer them in writing, or in words?” Aaron couldn’t help but turn to Claire and ask.

“They can talk; they are spirit beasts and understand the Dock language,” Claire said.

He can even understand Doc? That's impressive. So Aaron turned around and answered their questions in Doc.

He was initially worried that the business mouse might not understand human language and would answer slowly, but he was wrong. The business mouse nodded frequently and, apart from not being able to speak, was practically no different from a Doc.

After hearing his answer, the business mouse sitting behind the desk adopted the same posture as when turning over crops in the ground, rummaging through something on the desk. After a series of dazzling operations, it actually found his information. Then, it turned its office chair around and tapped the wall behind it with its little paws. Suddenly, a window opened in the wall, startling Aaron.

First, two dark eyes appeared from inside, followed by a pink nose. The mouse inside chattered to the mouse outside, and the mouse on the chair threw all the documents on the table at him.

After taking what he brought, the window slammed shut, then slammed open again a moment later, and a new document was handed out. Then it slammed shut again, the whole process taking less than a minute.

"This...this is their business process?" Aaron stared, mouth agape. He had a feeling he'd just witnessed a scene of bank employees working together seamlessly, and it actually looked...quite professional...

"Squeak squeak squeak!" The mouse's excited sound rang out in front of him. Aaron quickly looked at the wooden board. This time, besides activating the account, did he need to deposit money? Did he need a passbook?

"That's right, I want them all."

As soon as Aaron finished answering, "swish, swish, swish," another wooden board was placed in front of him with a message that he should fill out a form first. Then, several forms were placed in front of him with a thud, and the little mouse standing next to the table squeaked and stretched out its finger to tell him that the pen was right next to him and that he should take it himself.

"Oh well……"

Aaron, like a country bumpkin going to the bank for the first time, frantically filled out the forms, afraid of making a mistake.

The information to be filled in was no different from that of other banks. Aaron was extra careful to verify the title on the form to make sure it was a legitimate Florian Bank and not a private bank run by rats before continuing to fill it in.

He filled in the information one by one, and when he put down his pen, he let out a slight sigh of relief and handed the form to the sales mouse in front of him. The little mouse standing next to him had already raised its hand, trying its best to hold the inkpad next to him, and had even thoughtfully prepared a handkerchief.

"If there's no seal, a handprint will do." Immediately, a wooden board with writing on it was placed in front of him, next to which was a mouse's handprint.

"I'll just leave my fingerprint..."

After wiping the red ink off his hands, the little mouse sitting in front of him began to meticulously examine his form while stroking its whiskers. Aaron was a little nervous because of its serious expression.

The slightly larger mouse leaned back in its chair, its whiskered face adorned with glasses, intently scrutinizing his form, no longer making a sound.

But before Aaron could even feel nervous for long, just like a victory celebration animation, the mouse suddenly started dancing with joy. Aaron was bewildered for a while, until the little mouse next to him placed the template on his desk and started dancing with joy as well. Only then did he realize that his form had been approved.

It really is manual review... no, it's rat-manual review...

"But the efficiency is really fast, it feels much more efficient than banks run by humans..." Aaron began to have a good impression of the bank where these little mice work. After all, human banks often take three or four days to process business, not to mention non-working days, while the bank with mice can process his business in half an hour.