“We can go now, right?” Bald Bill asked with a dry laugh.

“You certainly know when to bend. It’s a pity your judgment is so poor,” Anser said flatly.

“You’re absolutely right.” Bald Bill smiled obsequiously, though inwardly he could not stop ranting.

‘Have any of you looked in a mirror? You’re filthy and dressed in rags. The one at the back looks like a savage, and the one in front looks like a laborer. Your weapons are old, and the three of you don’t have a single suit of armor between you...’

Anser had no idea what the man was thinking. He had always had a rather high opinion of himself.

“I have a question. Have you seen any magic apprentices from Fabian’s wizard tower? They also came from Brampton.”

“Uh...” Bald Bill thought for several seconds, then shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Then who told you mages can’t cast spells?” There had to be a reason he had dared provoke a mage.

“Everyone’s saying it. Some cult is recruiting people. They claim the world has changed and a blue storm that will sweep away everything is coming. Anyone who joins them can receive the legendary blessing called a Spellscar and gain the power of some kind of magic...”

“The Order of Blue Fire?”

“I think that was the name.”

“You may go. I hope we don’t meet again.”

“We wouldn’t dare...”

Anser swept his gaze around. Everyone nearby avoided his eyes.

“Let’s go to the Adventurers’ Guild.”

The three left quickly. People were already taking notice, and lingering would only invite trouble.

Bratt looked unhappy. If he had not softened earlier and made them appear easy to bully, the conflict might never have happened.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Anser caught up behind him in a few strides. “Some people have noses sharper than a dog’s. With this much on our backs, conflict was inevitable. At least this gave us a chance to frighten everyone else off.”

“Mm,” Bratt replied.

Now that they had formed a party, he had more than just himself to think about.

“What is the Order of Blue Fire?” he asked, changing the subject.

“An evil cult that arose during the Spellplague. It disappeared into history after the goddess of magic returned. These are probably impostors with ulterior motives, using the name for profit,” Anser briefly explained.

“Oh.” A strange smile appeared on Bratt’s face. “I never thought I’d see the day spellcasters became easy targets.”

Anser chuckled but said nothing.

Mages had always stood high above everyone else, synonymous with status and wealth. Now that they had fallen into the mud, many people wanted to step on them.

But Anser knew it was only temporary. Mages had never lacked geniuses.

—

Rivington was not large. A broad avenue extended south from Wyrm’s Crossing through the entire district and led directly to the Coast Way outside the city.

It was Rivington’s most prosperous road, also known as Middle Street. Tall, impressive buildings lined both sides, and guards constantly patrolled it. Law and sanitation were far better here than elsewhere.

Bratt led them to a distinctive gray-white stone building on the eastern side of the central avenue.

The building stood five stories tall and occupied more than a thousand square meters. It had a rear courtyard, with an even larger warehouse beyond it.

“I’ve been here before,” Anser recalled.

As a local, he had known of the place but never entered. The sword-carrying adventurers had always looked rather dangerous.

“This is a branch of the Watchers’ Guild. Its headquarters is in Seatower, and it’s one of the most famous adventurers’ guilds in Faerûn...” Bratt explained.

Toril was vast. Almost every guild was a regional organization. Even the strongest could not cover all of Faerûn; communication alone posed an enormous problem.

Baldur’s Gate had several adventurers’ guilds, of which the Watchers’ Guild was the largest. It operated mainly along the Sword Coast, with dozens of branches covering a region extending more than a thousand kilometers around Baldur’s Gate. It ranked among the ten most powerful adventurers’ guilds and possessed considerable strength.

Like other adventurers’ guilds, its core business was accepting commissions, including adventures, exploration, escorts, and procurement. It also traded intelligence, sold equipment and materials, and offered lodging, meals, medical treatment, and skill training.

At heart, it was a profit-driven service organization for adventurers.

“There are so many people.” Finn looked at the crowd moving in and out, his face returning to its usual stiff expression. He was a textbook socially anxious young man.

Anser patted Bratt. “You’re in charge from here.”

“Come on. Let’s find out the latest news first.” Bratt climbed the steps and headed straight for the main hall. Anser and Finn hurried after him.

The first-floor hall rose through two stories. Commissions covered three of its walls and were divided by color into five sections.

A row of service windows stood on the wall opposite the entrance, providing all manner of assistance to adventurers.

Bratt looked around. Familiar memories returned, and nostalgia entered his eyes.

He led the other two straight to a row of noticeboards in the center of the hall. “This is the public notice area. Everything posted here is open information, so you can quickly learn about recent events...”

Anser surveyed the boards. Most notices concerned major events around Baldur’s Gate and were arranged chronologically. They covered important news from the last three years, but the details were extremely sparse.

“It’s about the same as the Baldur’s Gate Gazette.” He shook his head.

“Ha! Most of it is copied straight from the Gazette.” Bratt laughed. “They’re hardly going to show you valuable intelligence for free.”

Anser’s mouth twitched. He had not expected that kind of operation. He wondered whether they had paid any copyright fees.

He followed the publication dates forward until he found the latest notices.

[Dalereckoning 1699, Month of Summertide: Turmoil in the Weave triggers repeated natural disasters. Baldur’s Gate districts collapse, opening a passage to the Underdark...]

[Duergar invade Baldur’s Gate. Flaming Fist suffers crushing defeat...]

“Nothing useful.” He shook his head in disappointment.

He wanted to know how the other members of the Lords’ Alliance had reacted. Was aid coming? Had disasters struck elsewhere in Faerûn? Were there ribbonlike storms of blue fire?

Information traveled too slowly in this world. One could form only a rough understanding of the local region, while every other area remained shrouded in fog and known only through hearsay. Anser found it deeply uncomfortable.

“We can buy intelligence, but it’s expensive.” Bratt smiled. “Come on. Let’s settle in first.”

“All right.”

He led them to the service area on the north side, then followed a corridor into another small hall. A horizontal banner protruded from the wall, bearing the words Adventurers’ Home.

A halfling sat behind the counter, playing with several dice.

Bratt took a small, silver, shield-shaped badge from inside his clothes and placed it on the counter. “One large room.”

The halfling glanced up at them, picked up the badge, and began registering it. “Blade Wolf, number 0071-02-05-237529. Intermediate adventurer. One large room, five silver pieces per night. Room and water only. How many nights?”

“One night for now.” Ignoring Anser’s strange look, Bratt pulled a large purse from the bundle and counted sixty copper pieces onto the counter.

Seeing that they were all copper, the halfling looked displeased. He leaned over the counter and spent ages counting them with one small, hairy hand. When he confirmed there were ten extra copper pieces, his face immediately lit up.

“That’s right, that’s right...”

Muttering, he slipped ten copper pieces into his own pouch and swept the rest into a drawer. Then he grabbed a key from beneath the counter and tossed it to Bratt.

“You came at the right time. Only two rooms are left. Third floor, room twenty-eight. Sunny, clean, with a washroom. Stay without worry—we compensate you if anything goes missing.”

“Many thanks.” Bratt retrieved his adventurer badge, waved Anser and Finn onward, and climbed the stairs in the corner of the small hall.

Anser watched without saying a word, leaving every arrangement to Bratt.

Once they reached the third floor and found the corridor empty, he finally asked, “Blade Wolf? Is that even a real creature?”

He had nearly lost his composure when he heard the name. If he had not transmigrated, he might have thought Bratt was a fan of the singer Dao Lang.

Bratt laughed awkwardly. “They exist. My eyes are green, and my canines stuck out when I was a child. My companions all said I looked like a blade wolf, so... ha ha...”

“Ha...” Anser smiled. Bratt’s canines truly were distinctive. “I’m surprised there are still rooms available. I thought the place would have been packed long ago.”

“The Adventurers’ Guild only provides lodging and food to intermediate adventurers and above. Each person can book only one room but may bring two guests,” Bratt explained.

“Mm. Without that threshold, we probably wouldn’t have gotten a room.” Anser felt secretly relieved. “How are adventurers ranked?”

“Adventurers and adventuring parties are both divided into five ranks,” Bratt replied. “But people generally call them Novice, Intermediate, Advanced, Master, and Legendary.

“Some guilds name the ranks after badge materials instead: Bronze, Silver, Gold, Platinum, and Arcane...”

Prices follow the official rulebooks, with only minor adjustments.

Thanks to all the honored readers for your support and suggestions!

(End of Chapter)