"Sir?" the elf woman called softly.

"Oh. Is everyone in the garden staying at the inn?" Anser asked casually.

"Not all of them. Some are dining guests. The restaurant occupies the treehouse's first floor." A patient smile rested on the elf woman's smooth, pale face.

"Then we'll take two rooms. How much?" Anser decided to stay, keep watch on Gass, and consider his next move afterward.

"Two gold pieces per room per day. Water and breakfast are complimentary, and payment is required in advance." The elf waited with a bright smile for Anser's reaction.

"That expensive?!" Anser stared in shock.

The price genuinely stunned him. Forget ordinary people—even most classed individuals could not afford it.

The elf woman pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes, seemingly delighted by his reaction. "Sir, the Moonshadow Quelin has always charged this rate. We also serve authentic moon elf cuisine that you can't find anywhere else."

Bratt quietly tugged Anser and repeatedly signaled him. They could not stay here; lying in bed would hurt his wallet so badly that he would never sleep.

"We'll stay for two days." Anser made up his mind, took out a platinum piece, and pressed it onto the counter.

These were extraordinary circumstances. Other inns would certainly raise their prices and might not have rooms available. It was better to stay temporarily, especially since they could watch Gass and prevent him from escaping.

Anser still possessed over a hundred gold pieces, enough to stay for several weeks.

"Your names, gentlemen?" The elf picked up a pen and looked at Anser. "Each room must be registered under one name. An alias is acceptable."

"Nornoth and Bratt," Anser answered without hesitation.

Gass probably would not recognize him, but hearing Anser's name might put the man on guard. It was safer not to reveal it.

The elf woman quickly recorded the names and produced two bronze plaques with keys attached. She beckoned to them. "Please follow me."

Anser signaled Bratt to go upstairs first, then pulled Finn to the window and pointed at the distant figure. "Have the gray eagle watch that man."

"All right." Finn removed his pack, handed it to Anser, and hurried out of the mushroom-shaped building.

Anser picked up the pack and quickly went upstairs.

The mushroom building's decor felt fresh and natural, with care evident in every detail. Numerous oil paintings hung in the corridors, nearly all depicting landscapes, plants, or animals.

They reached the top floor and stopped outside Room 6-1. Room 6-2 stood directly opposite; the naming system was refreshingly straightforward.

The elf woman opened the door and handed Anser the room plaque without entering. "My name is Dara Caronas. If you need anything, you can find me in the treehouse."

"Thank you." Anser nodded.

Dara waved and departed with a cheerful, light step.

"You were actually willing to pay that? Don't tell me you're after her beauty." Bratt dropped his pack and regarded Anser suspiciously.

"Heh." Anser ignored him and studied the room with evident satisfaction.

The room covered roughly 20 square meters—about 215 square feet—and was tastefully decorated with natural-wood furniture. The floor and bedsheets were spotless, and not the slightest odor came from the washroom in the corner. Ordinary cleaning methods could not achieve that.

The broad glass window, nearly 1.5 meters—five feet—across, admitted abundant light. An outer sliding shutter could be lowered to block water, light, and noise.

Anser crossed to the window. The nearby bay and docks, together with the town and garden below, all entered his view.

"Look at the man in blue robes." He beckoned Bratt over.

"What about him?" Bratt approached curiously.

"Don't stare," Anser warned. "His name is Gass. He's the reason I fell into that pit."

"What a coincidence." Recognition crossed Bratt's face, followed by a grave look.

It was both a coincidence and not one. The north was blocked, while traveling east or south required an enormous detour. Sailing north from Silver Scale Bay was indeed one of the best options.

Gass had obtained Fabian's inheritance, so staying at the finest inn was perfectly reasonable.

"Is he a Wizard? He seems to have companions." Bratt observed carefully.

"I don't recognize them." Anser frowned. The other two had not been apprentices at the wizard tower.

He opened the window and leaned out as though admiring the scenery, while focusing his mind on the three men.

[Gass, Human, Level 1 Sorcerer (Spellscarred)]

[Order of Blue Fire Priest, Human, Level 3 Sorcerer (Spellscarred), Level 1 Wizard]

[Order of Blue Fire Elite, Human, Level 4 Sorcerer (Spellscarred), Level 1 Cleric]

'The Order of Blue Fire?!' Shock rippled through Anser. 'How did Gass become involved with them?'

Then he realized that was not the most important issue.

'What is a Spellscarred Sorcerer? This... doesn't make sense.'

During the Spellplague, approaching a storm of blue fire could infect a person and form a magical mark called a Spellscar. It appeared as jagged blue cracks across the skin, blue runes flickering like flame, or wings of deep-blue fire.

The Order of Blue Fire regarded this not as a curse but as something sacred—not to be cured, but understood and controlled. Through it, they mastered the magical power known as blue fire.

They came to worship the Spellplague and developed their own god and savior. Ultimately, however, they remained a cult and disappeared after the Goddess of Magic returned.

This was also the origin of the Spellfire Sorcery subclass.

Yet there were plainly no uncontrolled storms of blue fire now, at least not near Baldur's Gate. In theory, no one should have an opportunity to acquire such power.

'A subclass resembling Spellfire Sorcery?'

Faerûn contained countless strange subclass traditions, but most were unsystematic and difficult to spread.

Clerics alone had more than twenty subclasses: the Life, Light, Trickery, War, Arcana, Knowledge, Grave, Blood, Twilight, and many other domains.

The guiding principle seemed to be that you had to believe in something, so you might as well pick one!

"What's wrong?" Bratt interrupted Anser's thoughts.

"This will be difficult." Anser closed the window, shutting out outside gazes. "Those two belong to the Order of Blue Fire, and one is an elite classed individual."

Soladin had previously told him that the Order knew of him and had labeled him a heretic. Gass might genuinely know Anser was alive.

Moreover, Gass had been an untalented wizard apprentice only days ago, yet he had already become a Sorcerer.

If the Order of Blue Fire truly possessed a way to produce spellcasters in large numbers, a single beckoning gesture could attract countless wizard apprentices and trained Wizards. The speed at which they could expand was... unimaginable.

"They'll separate eventually." Bratt grinned, unconcerned.

"Good point. Let the gray eagle watch them. Call Finn upstairs, and we'll wash and rest."

"All right."

They had two rooms. Bratt and Finn shared one, while Anser occupied the other alone.

Everyone was tired and filthy after traveling all day. They could wash properly and take a nap while it was still early.

People came and went through the garden below. The members of the Order of Blue Fire had long since disappeared, but the gray eagle had confirmed that they entered the mushroom-shaped building, so there was no hurry.

For now, Anser wanted only to find enough Experience to reach Level 4. That would give him far greater confidence.

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

Clerics: D&D and Baldur's Gate 3 downplay the relationship between a Cleric's faith and subclass. In practice, if you worship Lathander, your Cleric subclass should be limited to the Life or Light Domain. Choosing Death or Blood would be rather...

(End of Chapter)