Nornoth was not highly intelligent, but only by human standards.

His intelligence was roughly comparable to that of a ten-year-old child, and he was naturally alert. Anser did not need to direct him at all.

Content to let Nornoth handle the road, Anser called up the steed's character sheet in his mind.

This was Nornoth's most unusual feature: he had an independent character sheet on the die!

'He has Experience and a Level. Does that mean he can level up?' Anser rubbed the stubble on his chin.

He tried assigning Nornoth a little Experience, but the character sheet did not react in the slightest.

'There must be some difference.'

Several attempts left him none the wiser. For now, he gave up and focused on the journey.

The weather was hot and the road difficult. Afraid of exhausting Nornoth, Anser stopped several times to let him rest.

He also used Ray of Frost to make some ice, wrapped it in waterproof cloth, and used it to help everyone cool down.

Nornoth was a Fey capable of drawing energy from magic or nature spirits, so he did not require much food. Even so, he could still grow tired and needed proper rest and nourishment.

At lunch, he discovered a love for raw crabmeat and devoured more than ten pounds by himself. Afterward, even the look he gave Finn seemed much friendlier.

Once Anser fed him his first piece of ice, he fell in love with that too.

As they traveled, Anser had to feed him several pieces every so often.

With man and steed constantly interacting, neither noticed the fatigue, and the time flew by.

The wilderness was vast. At first, they still saw wave after wave of disaster victims and the occasional corpse, but the farther they went, the fewer people they encountered. By afternoon, they could scarcely see anyone at all.

After most of a day's travel, Bratt and Finn were physically and mentally exhausted and had lost their energy. Only Anser and Nornoth remained in high spirits.

Riding naturally spared Anser from fatigue, and after escaping a mortal crisis, he found everything fascinating.

Plants and flowers he had never seen, unfamiliar beasts and birds, unusual natural scenery...

He had arrived in this world only a few days ago and was still brimming with wonder. He did not find the journey dull in the least.

Bratt glanced at the sun, its glare now fading, and asked listlessly, "How much farther is it to the western coast?"

"We're past halfway. Twenty miles at most," Anser estimated.

The "mile" he referred to was Faerûn's unit of distance. Twenty miles was roughly thirty-two kilometers.

Baldur's Gate stood on a natural bay roughly sixty to seventy kilometers—about forty miles—from the river mouth. Even a medium-sized sailing ship took more than ten hours to cover the distance.

Bratt pointed toward a stretch of greenery to the south. "Did we stray off course? Is that Cloakwood?"

"It may be an extension of Cloakwood." Anser took out the map, uncertain.

"We should've stayed in one of the villages back there." Bratt sounded regretful. They had spotted two villages from a distance along the way but had not stopped at either.

"There's a village ahead called... Giant Elk Village," Anser said, pointing at the map.

"Mm." Finn nodded. His gray eagle had seen it as well.

"How far?" Bratt immediately perked up.

"Just beyond that woodland."

"Let's go."

Following the gray eagle's guidance, they headed southwest for more than ten minutes. After passing through sparse woodland, they saw a village of several dozen households ahead.

"Good terrain," Bratt remarked.

The area was flat and dry, with no standing water, and the ground had clearly been hardened. It was indeed well suited for rest.

"Why isn't anyone here?" Anser frowned. The place was far too quiet.

"Is it an abandoned village?" Bratt carefully examined the dilapidated, collapsing buildings.

"Look." Anser shook his head and pointed at the disorderly tracks, footprints, and wagon ruts around them. "It may be abandoned, but a great many people have definitely passed through."

Finn crouched and studied the ground for a moment. "Some are old, some are new, and some were made today."

"Maybe refugees," Bratt guessed. "The village is on the map, after all."

Anser looked at Finn. "Are there any monsters or wild beasts nearby?"

"No monsters and no large beasts." Finn shook his head.

"Let's go in and take a look."

The group went on alert and entered the abandoned village in combat formation.

Yet aside from the general disarray and dust coating everything, there were no corpses or other disturbing remains.

For some reason, however, Anser could not shake an uneasy feeling.

They had barely entered the village when a dark head emerged from the window of a distant wooden house: a long snout, curved horns, black scales...

The group jumped in alarm and immediately assumed combat stances.

"Looks like a dragonborn," Bratt warned them.

There were plenty of dragonborn in Baldur's Gate, and all of them had seen one before. Still, dragonborn looked so different from humans that the sudden appearance gave them a fright.

The wooden house's door opened, and several people emerged. Apart from the black dragonborn, all of them were human.

Every one of them carried a weapon and wore armor, mostly Studded Leather. The colors and styles were similar, but there did not appear to be a spellcaster among them.

The holy symbol hidden inside Anser's clothes suddenly grew scorching hot. His heart tightened, and he immediately signaled his companions to be careful.

Perhaps to avoid a misunderstanding, the black dragonborn approached empty-handed while the others remained where they were.

"Greetings." The dragonborn's voice sounded like clashing metal, deep and forceful, with a rumbling finish like thunder.

He looked Anser and Nornoth up and down, astonishment filling his eyes. "We're from Alaron and are traveling to Baldur's Gate. We're only resting here temporarily. Did you come from Baldur's Gate? We heard something happened there. What's the situation now?"

Alaron was the largest island in the Moonshae Isles and lay across the sea from Baldur's Gate.

Anser's expression remained calm. "The river mouth burst its banks last night, and the Rivington District flooded. We left in a hurry, so we don't know the current situation."

"I see." The black dragonborn's eyes shifted. It was difficult to read any expression on his lizard-like face. "We heard parts of the city collapsed and large numbers of Underdark creatures emerged. Is that true?"

"I heard the same, but I didn't see it myself. I wouldn't dare make claims without knowing." Anser offered a bland smile and continued playing ignorant.

During their exchange, he had already seen through the man's information:

[Amnian ** Elite, Dragonborn, Level 3 Barbarian (Berserker)]

The other man was clearly lying!

The black dragonborn repeatedly ran into a wall with Anser. He knew perfectly well that Anser was deliberately withholding information, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Pretending to glance around casually, he pointed at the house behind him. "We're staying in this one. All the other houses are empty, so choose whichever you like."

With that, he waved and turned away.

Anser narrowed his eyes. He had wanted to inspect more of their information, but the dragonborn had withdrawn with unexpected speed and decisiveness.

"We're leaving too." Anser waved a hand, and Nornoth stretched his long legs and turned onto another village road.

The group hurried across the village without stopping.

"That dragonborn's accent was wrong. It sounded Amnian," Bratt said after some thought.

"How could you tell?" Anser slowed his pace. He knew Bratt's homeland was on the Dragon Coast, nowhere near Amn.

"I've been there. Amn is rich, but they charge you for absolutely everything." Bratt shook his head regretfully.

"You're observant," Anser praised him. "Neither the people nor the place feel right. We aren't camping here."

"I was thinking the same thing," Bratt replied.

"Mm." Finn agreed as well.

Beyond the village lay a moderately sized lake. Sunlight glittered across its surface, lush vegetation surrounded it, and the scenery was pleasant.

Anser noticed obvious signs that the land around the lake had once been cultivated, though it had been abandoned for some unknown reason.

They followed the lake's northern shore and crested a tall grassy slope. A temporary camp abruptly came into view.

Twenty or thirty tents stood in orderly clusters beside the lake. Dozens of people bustled about: some clearing land, some fishing, while children and elderly people played nearby.

Thank you to all my dear readers for your support and suggestions!

(End of Chapter)