'What are the odds?' Anser felt a wave of frustration.
Was his commercial plan about to collapse just as it began?
He gestured for everyone to stay silent, slowed his steps, and moved up to the third floor, hiding behind a wall as he looked outside.
The street was in complete disarray. People were fleeing in panic, chaos everywhere.
At a street corner, a group of humanoids with sallow skin and dark mottled spots on their faces, dressed in simple cloth garments, were fighting. Their enemies were a group of adventurers and several Intellect Devourers.
'Githzerai monks?' Anser was surprised. 'They're hunting Intellect Devourers and Mind Flayers?'
These gith fought barehanded, their movements agile and fluid. Their palms and bodies were wreathed in a powerful aura of "ki."
Anser's building was relatively tall. Scanning the surroundings, he realized the fighting wasn't limited to just this spot. The unrest had spread across half of the Middle City district, and even the Lower City in the distance was in turmoil.
Due to his angle, he couldn't see many of the battles directly, but the chaotic streets and panicked civilians made the scale of the disturbance obvious.
A faint fragrance drifted over as Iris stepped beside him, frowning slightly. "There are Mind Flayers here too?"
"For now, it seems so." Anser had seen a nautiloid spelljamming ship in the dock district—this kind of magical vessel was typically used only by Mind Flayers.
"Who are those people?" Quentin asked quietly, pointing toward the street corner.
"Githzerai. One branch of the gith. They're sworn enemies of the Mind Flayers…" Anser explained.
The gith had once been slaves to the Mind Flayers, and through that enslavement, they mastered psionic power. Later, under the leadership of a great figure, they overthrew Mind Flayer domination. Their race was named after that leader—Gith.
Afterward, due to blood feuds, conflicting ambitions, and conspiracies among their leaders, the gith split into two factions, each viewing the other as mortal enemies.
The warlike githyanki dominated the Astral Plane, constantly raiding worlds across the multiverse for magic and wealth. They were primarily aligned with lawful evil.
The githzerai, on the other hand, believed that the path to higher civilization lay in seclusion and ascetic discipline. Their devotion to order allowed them to tame chaotic elements and even establish impenetrable strongholds within the plane of chaos.
Most githzerai were lawful neutral. They frequently dispatched warriors across the planes to hunt Mind Flayers. They could occasionally be encountered in Faerûn, referring to themselves as the "Zhirakama Troupe"—meaning Mind Flayer hunting squads.
"Should we get involved?" Lin Qiancheng took out his wand, concern in his eyes.
He only knew of the Rock of Bral from written records and had no real understanding of its strength.
"No time. We're leaving." Anser waved his hand and headed downstairs first.
If the return teleportation array dissipated, he would have no choice but to fly the dragonfly ship back to Durlag—that would be a nightmare.
Besides, he didn't think the Rock of Bral would fall to the Mind Flayers.
According to the halfling Osborn, the royal family was extremely powerful, and there were many strong local adventurers. With the added help of the githzerai, it was more likely that the Mind Flayers would be driven back.
One by one, they passed through the portal. The scene shifted, and the familiar teleportation hall came into view. They exchanged glances, each seeing the same sense of relief in the others' eyes.
The pressure brought by the Mind Flayers was immense.
Anser placed his hand on the teleportation circle and directly disabled the connection between the Rock of Bral and White Stone Island, just in case.
"Guard this place well. Bring White Stone Island under control as soon as possible. I'll try to come by once a day—timing not fixed…"
"Got it…"
Anser gave a few instructions, then took Iris and Makaria and teleported back to Fort Jacqueline.
As the portal closed, the teleportation circle on the ground gradually faded, leaving behind only a faint trace.
"From now on, I'll cast a Teleportation Circle here once a day. In about a year, it should form a stable teleportation link." He tapped his foot, feeling that the timeframe was a bit too long.
Perhaps casting it multiple times could accelerate the process, but the cost of a Teleportation Circle was quite high—he could only manage a dozen or so casts per day.
Pulling his thoughts back, he looked at the tiefling woman. "Makaria, go back and think it over carefully. I'll wait for your answer."
"Ah… alright." Makaria looked a bit dazed. The amount of information she had taken in over the past hour was overwhelming, and she hadn't fully processed it yet.
She gave a slight bow and, under the guidance of a servant, slowly left the castle. Her gaze drifted, her thoughts in turmoil.
She had been born into a tiefling tribe in the Greenfields. The tribe was small, its living conditions harsh, survival always uncertain—and there were countless such tiefling tribes like hers.
More often than not, tieflings were even less welcome than dragonborn. They endured all kinds of hostility from the human world and could only rely on one another for warmth.
To earn the resources needed to survive, the tribe had formed a mercenary company. Most of their earnings went toward purchasing food and supplies, allowing the tribe to continue on.
But after only a few years of relatively good days, Faerûn had fallen into chaos again.
'What should I do?' Faced with a decision that would determine the tribe's fate, she—usually decisive—felt lost.
Her father had always told her that humans were greedy and untrustworthy, that she must always stay cautious and leave herself a way out.
But this time was different. Once she made her choice, the fate of the entire tribe would be placed in someone else's hands.
Night deepened, gradually swallowing her lonely silhouette.
...
Anser, on the other hand, wasn't thinking that much. It wasn't as if he absolutely needed the Flamerule Mercenary Company—he had simply worked with them once and found them reliable.
With his strength and resources, he could easily recruit more adventurers.
But blind expansion wasn't a good idea either. The stability of the team was just as important.
As evening fell, the dining hall of Fort Jacqueline was brightly lit. The table was laden with food—rich and abundant, mostly meat.
Over the past few days, many beasts had emerged from the Wood of Sharp Teeth, posing a serious threat to nearby villages. The Durlag Union had issued several suppression and hunting missions, slightly curbing the situation.
As a result, the rising price of meat had been driven back down.
"There must be something going on in the Wood of Sharp Teeth. I'll go take a look tomorrow morning." Anser was worried that the beast or monster hordes might strike Durlag. He needed to prepare in advance and figure out what was happening.
If a disaster broke out, they would be completely passive.
"I'll go with you. The wyvern patrol might not have left yet." Iris had a flying carpet, and her speed wasn't inferior to a wyvern.
"Alright." Anser did need a helper. With the two of them working together, dealing with a dozen wyverns in a mobile fight shouldn't be a problem.
If they could take down a few, that would be a significant amount of experience.
He was starting to feel a sense of urgency. Faerûn was becoming increasingly chaotic—even space wasn't stable anymore. He had decided to take the initiative and not let any safe opportunity to gain experience slip by.
At this stage, his primary goal was to level up as quickly as possible. The development of his forces and territory would have to take a back seat.
The two chatted while eating. Iris's grandmother and the steward stood nearby, listening with smiles on their faces.
During the days Anser had been gone, the atmosphere in Fort Jacqueline had visibly grown oppressive. Iris hadn't had a proper meal the entire time.
Fortunately, everything had returned to normal.
After finishing his meal, Anser picked up a napkin and wiped the corner of his mouth, then said casually, "I'm heading back to Holrewen tonight."
Iris paused, raising a brow as she looked at him suspiciously. "You're going to Bral?"
"Uh… I'm going to check on the situation." Anser hadn't expected her to be so perceptive—she saw through his intentions at a glance.
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