The month of Flamerule brought long days and short nights.

It was already past six when Anser and his companions woke, yet daylight remained bright. They took their valuables and weapons, preparing to sample moon elf cuisine and gather information.

"When other people are around, don't use my name. Call me Captain." Anser put on his cloak, wary of attracting the Order of Blue Fire's attention.

"Understood..." Bratt and Finn grasped his meaning.

The treehouse stood dozens of meters from the mushroom building and occupied more ground, but its colors were entirely different. Dark green dominated its interior, complemented by curved ceilings and circular doorways that gave it a natural elegance.

The restaurant filled the first floor with round and square tables. A long bar occupied one side, making the establishment a mixture of tavern and dining hall.

It was dinnertime, and more than half the spacious restaurant was occupied, mostly by guests from the mushroom building.

Nearly every server was a moon elf, with pointed ears, pale skin, and mostly silver-white or light-blue hair. Both men and women worked there, and nearly all were attractive.

Anser dropped onto a tall round stool beside the bar and quietly observed the diners.

They were all well dressed, primarily classed individuals, merchants, and nobles. Almost no one shouted, and the room remained relatively quiet.

"What would the three gentlemen like?" A handsome male elf with an easy, elegant manner waved off another server and approached.

Anser picked up the menu. Prices were considerably higher than at an ordinary restaurant but far more reasonable than the room rates.

"Elven nut bread, roasted mushrooms, grilled mackerel, and herbal tea."

Those were the least expensive dishes. Bacon-wrapped asparagus, vegetable casserole, seafood rice—each cost more than the last.

Bratt took the menu and ordered almost the same meal, substituting ale for herbal tea.

Finn regarded the unusually light dishes and ordered only grilled fish and smoked venison. Despite his wood elf ancestry, he adored meat.

"Please wait a moment." The male elf wrote down their order and handed it to a nearby server.

Then he poured three glasses of wine and placed one before each of them.

"Moondew, our signature wine. My treat." He sat across from Anser on the other side of the bar.

"Hm?" Anser immediately became wary. A glass of Moondew cost two silver pieces, more than the venison.

Unsolicited generosity always concealed a motive.

"Don't be nervous. My name is Calenor, and I'm one of the Moonshadow Quelin's owners." The elf hurriedly explained, "I've dreamed of adventuring since childhood, but my family would never permit it.

"If you tell me what you've encountered on the road over the past few days, tonight's dinner is on me."

"The past few days?" Anser's pulse quickened. "Can you tell me how you knew?"

"You only just arrived, and beneath the dust of travel, you smell of blood. Was there really anything to guess?" Calenor's lips curved, his eyes full of confidence.

There truly had been no need to guess. When Anser's group went to watch the commotion at the docks, Calenor had spotted them from the roof.

Anser looked at him calmly. The die soon displayed Calenor's information:

[Calenor, Moon Elf, Level 4 Fighter (Psi Warrior)]

"We just arrived and know little about the town. Would you tell us about it?" Anser turned the conversation around. If Calenor was willing to share, Anser did not mind revealing a little in return.

"Of course," Calenor agreed without hesitation. "I'll start with the latest news. Several days ago..."

Silver Scale Bay had quickly received word after the disaster in Baldur's Gate. At first, the information circulated only among the upper classes, and ordinary people believed it was a rumor.

Only when large numbers of merchant ships fled the River Chionthar did the news break wide open. Refugees had poured in every day since, bringing more accounts of Baldur's Gate's devastation.

Today, a Cormyrean royal caravan escorted by a Lake of Dragons Fleet warship had attempted to pass Wyrm's Crossing and was attacked by large numbers of kuo-toa. They barely escaped, suffering severe losses.

The Lake of Dragons Fleet had only recently been established by the Kingdom of Cormyr specifically to escort shipping. Its firepower was formidable, but attacks launched directly from underwater remained difficult to defend against.

The adventurers' guilds were the busiest places of all, with more quests than anyone could count. Most were posted by people seeking rescue for family and friends in Baldur's Gate, but few adventurers dared accept them.

"Are any passenger ships sailing for Daggerford or Waterdeep?" That concerned Anser most.

"Yes, but ticket prices have risen, and you probably can't buy one now." Calenor poured himself a glass and emptied it in one swallow. "I advise against taking those small ships. Fishfolk infest the Sea of Swords, and the journey is dangerous."

Too many people wanted to leave, so failing to obtain tickets was unsurprising. The situation might not ease for another week.

But who knew what things would look like in a week?

The kuo-toa had spent ages in the Underdark's dark, filthy waters. Reaching the surface seas was no different from entering paradise. Nothing could make them leave willingly.

Anser was not in a hurry, however. Apart from the high prices, Silver Scale Bay was relatively safe. It stood far from the disaster's center without being too peaceful, which perfectly suited his expectations.

He needed combat to level up. A quiet, uneventful life was not what he wanted.

Their food arrived as they spoke.

Anser signaled Bratt, who understood and began recounting their experiences with vivid enthusiasm.

This time, however, the Paladins became the heroes while they were insignificant bystanders. The same was true of the Undead from the previous night: they and the Masons' Guild had merely witnessed events and done nothing.

There was little reason to conceal those incidents because too many people had seen them.

The dangerous, dramatic story thrilled Calenor. He kept refilling Bratt's glass, and Bratt soon drank several.

Calenor clearly loved adventure. Longing shone on his face, and his eyes lit up during every exciting moment as though he were the story's hero.

By the time Bratt finished, people had filled every seat around the bar, and many servers were secretly listening.

Anser had quietly withdrawn to a corner long ago. With his cloak raised, no one noticed him. Unfortunately, after waiting for a long time, he still had not seen the Order of Blue Fire members emerge.

"You seem to be waiting for someone." A rich, magnetic voice sounded suddenly beside his ear.

Anser's muscles tightened. He turned to see a graceful elf woman approaching in elaborate moon-white robes, a glass of wine in hand and a bright smile on her face.

"And you are?" The holy symbol inside his clothes had given no warning, so some of the tension left him.

"I'm Gwyneth, the owner. Didn't Calenor tell you?" Gwyneth's skin seemed to radiate moonlight, giving her an almost unreal appearance.

"No." Anser held her blue gaze. "What can I do for you, Lady Gwyneth?"

Gwyneth leaned close. "Follower of Tyr, little Dara forgot to warn you: fighting is forbidden at the Moonshadow Quelin, and killing is absolutely prohibited."

"You're worrying unnecessarily." Anser appeared entirely unconcerned.

"Hehe..." Gwyneth lightly tapped her wineglass against his teacup, turned, and walked away.

Her crisp footsteps receded. Anser watched her slender waist as the die turned for several long moments, finally detecting her class information just before she vanished from view.

[Gwyneth, Moon Elf, Level 6 Sorcerer (Lunar Sorcery), Level 1 Cleric]

'A Level 7 classed individual hiding in a small town and running an inn? Toril really is full of monsters.'

Anser drained his herbal tea. The scent of mint mingled with the fragrance in the air.

He had never intended to act inside the inn. Being mistaken for a follower of Tyr was not necessarily a bad thing either.

'Lunar Sorcery.' Yet another extremely rare Sorcerer subclass.

Then Finn hurried over, leaned close, and whispered,

"They went outside."

Anser rose and left the restaurant. Beneath the setting sun, several blue-robed figures disappeared beyond the garden entrance.

Moon Elves

Also called silver elves or Teu-tel-quessir, moon elves are more tolerant and adventurous than other kinds of elves.

When their ancient empires collapsed, moon elves were scattered among other peoples. Since then, they have developed a tradition of living amicably beside their neighbors. They mingle freely with other peoples while still maintaining hidden settlements and secluded strongholds among their own kin.

Other elves sometimes regard moon elves as frivolous and foolish. Yet the flexibility of their culture, ideas, and temperament allowed them to survive difficult periods of elven history and flourish afterward. Moon elf communities can be found throughout Faerûn, and many moon elves live in the settlements of other peoples for years or even decades.

Moon elves possess the High Elf species traits from the Player's Handbook.

Their skin is pale, sometimes with a faint blue tint. Their hair includes human colors, though some possess silver-white hair or various shades of blue. Their eyes are blue or green, flecked with gold.

(End of Chapter)