"Let's go." Anser patted Bratt.

If he were strong enough, he would interfere regardless of good or evil, because these slavers were walking Experience.

But when the risks and rewards were disproportionate, the matter required careful consideration.

He had barely taken a step when a faint magical fluctuation emerged from his pack and steadily intensified.

'Hm? What is it?'

The pack was light and held little. They had left everything worthless in their room at the inn.

He set it down and opened it, then froze. The source was the magical contract Dorothea had given him.

Dorothea was the elderly Wizard who had sold him the Ring of Spell Storing and Cloak of Protection on credit.

He unfolded the contract. The writing on the front had not changed, but a thin line of magical light had appeared on the back, pointing directly... to his left.

"Clara, hurry! There's a ship here."

A shout reached his ears. His gaze sharpened, and he immediately flipped the contract over. The person requiring rescue was indeed Clara!

'The magical contract can do this?'

He looked up. A red-haired young man was hurrying toward them while leading a little girl by the hand.

The girl was truly tiny. She wore a small red cloak and carried a blue backpack. Her tender pale face, pointed ears, and enormous eyes made her look no more than four or five.

Most unusual were her eyes, one blue and one violet, like two gleaming gemstones.

'This... nearly tricked me.'

The contract clearly stated that Clara was a classed individual but had never mentioned her age.

He focused on the girl, and the die quickly displayed her information.

[Clara, Elf, Level 1 Sorcerer]

'She really is classed?!'

Someone so young possessing a class was wildly abnormal. Anser could not understand it at all.

The red-haired young man squeezed through the crowd, looked around, and frowned when he saw the deck packed with people.

The bearded man saw the little girl, and his eyes immediately shone. He jumped from the rail and reached them in several strides.

"Traveling to Palos? We have several spaces left and are departing immediately. Come aboard first."

A crew member jumped down and roughly shoved the crowd aside, securing a gangway for them. He motioned the red-haired man forward while reaching to pick up the little girl.

"Don't!" The young man's expression chilled, and he shielded the girl behind him.

The crew member stopped and looked toward the bearded man.

"He only wanted to help." The bearded man waved generously. "We've sailed this route for years. Conditions are difficult, but it's absolutely safe.

"If you're willing to pay a little extra, I can move you to a more comfortable cabin."

The red-haired man's expression eased. The bearded man sounded sincere, and the offer had clearly tempted him.

Anser immediately knew something was about to go wrong. The young man had arrived late and knew none of the surrounding circumstances or suspicious details.

He touched the Cloak of Protection that had once stopped a blade for him, and Dorothea's aged face rose unbidden in his mind.

"Clara!" He quickly approached while signaling Bratt and Finn.

The red-haired man and the bearded first mate both turned in surprise. Seeing Anser dressed as a spellcaster produced very different expressions on their faces.

"Who are you? How do you know Clara's name?" The little girl's voice still carried a childish lilt.

Anser reached her and crouched. "Dorothea sent me."

"Oh! Auntie sent you?" Clara's face lit with delight.

"Mm." Anser had no idea what their relationship was. He only needed to draw her away. "I have rooms at the Moonshadow Quelin. Come with me."

"Okay!"

"Wait." The red-haired young man immediately stepped in front of Clara, his expression wary. "We don't know you."

"You're so stupid, Kafka." Clara pushed hard but failed to move him. She angrily ran to Anser's side and pouted. "You can't tell good people from bad people at all. He's good. They're bad."

The red-haired young man's face changed. He drew the shortsword at his waist with a metallic hiss and turned toward the bearded man, his expression grave.

He knew Clara had possessed the ability to distinguish moral alignments since childhood. By "bad people," she meant Evil-aligned humans.

The atmosphere immediately turned tense.

People still boarding stopped and scattered, leaving a broad empty space beside the ship.

Those already aboard grew uneasy. Some remained confused, while understanding dawned belatedly on others.

Anser was speechless. The red-haired young man's reaction was far too extreme. Why not simply leave?

The bearded man's expression stiffened, unwilling to let such a prize slip away. This little girl was worth more than every other passenger aboard, and he trusted his judgment.

Yet he dared not openly turn hostile—not from fear, but because the opposing side might reveal their identity. Once word spread, the outcome of any fight would not matter; they could never attempt this scheme again.

If he destroyed their source of income, his leader would tear him apart.

"Ha... Children are truly adorable. This uncle may look fierce, but I'm a good man." He laughed loudly as if entirely unconcerned.

"If you aren't coming, so be it." He waved. "Pull up the gangways. We have enough passengers..."

The bearded man and crew returned to the deck and began withdrawing the gangways as though departure were imminent.

Seeing this, the crowd relaxed. Many people resumed complaining and sighing.

"Come with me." Anser glanced at the red-haired young man.

"This..." Kafka approached and lowered his voice. "Are they slavers? They're operating openly in broad daylight without even hiding it. Doesn't anyone stop them?"

"If you want to be a hero, do it yourself." Anser picked up Clara and walked away.

If the slavers dared act so openly, they necessarily possessed protection. They might even share profits with Silver Scale Bay's authorities.

Even if someone wanted to intervene, charging alone was foolish. The other side had dozens of crew members. Even Paladins knew to summon reinforcements. It was better to leave for now and spread the news.

Kafka caught up. He still did not entirely trust Anser and wanted to take Clara back.

Before he could speak, Anser thrust the magical contract in front of his face. Dorothea Zetkin's signature was clearly visible.

Kafka tried to examine it, but Anser immediately put it away.

"What smells so good?" Clara lay against Anser's shoulder and sniffed repeatedly.

"You haven't eaten?"

Kafka gave a dry laugh. "No."

Anser took the remaining three oatcakes from his pack, giving one to Clara and two to Kafka.

Clara hummed contentedly as she ate, clearly pleased by the oatcake's flavor.

"How did you escape?" Anser continued toward the Moonshadow Quelin without slowing.

"By ship. Seatower and Manorborn hadn't fallen, and merchant ships could still dock..." Kafka explained while eating.

The vessels were armed merchant ships from Cormyr, the Moonsea, and Waterdeep. They did not pass Wyrm's Crossing. Instead, they docked at Seatower, unloaded supplies, took on passengers, and immediately returned.

The Grand Dukes naturally purchased all the cargo, while transporting people was an additional profit. Each passenger paid at least one hundred gold pieces and was carried only as far as Silver Scale Bay or Bullfish Village. The merchants earned fortunes.

Apparently, while Baldur's Gate suffered, everyone else was becoming rich.

"Why are there only two of you? Where are Clara's... parents?" Anser quietly watched the girl's expression but found no sorrow or other reaction.

"I've never met Clara's parents. She always lived with my mentor," Kafka explained. "My mentor sent a message dissolving the wizard tower and told me to find an opportunity to bring her secretly to Silver Scale Bay."

Anser stopped and studied Kafka.

[Kafka, Human, Level 3 Wizard (School of Divination), Level 1 Rogue]

"What's wrong?" Kafka asked, confused.

"Nothing." Anser had not expected this socially inept young man to be a Level 3 Wizard.

He turned the word Divination over in his mind and suddenly felt their meeting might not have been a coincidence.

But he was not a Wizard and knew no Divination spells. He could not analyze or understand the mystery involved.

Sun Elves

Sun elves, also called gold elves or Ar'Tel'Quessir, are known for pride and arrogance.

Many believe themselves Corellon's chosen people and consider the skills, purpose, and refinement of other species—and even other elves—inferior. They proudly call themselves "high elves," and in truth, this lineage has been responsible for some of the world's greatest and sometimes most terrible achievements.

When looking back upon and emphasizing their glorious history, sun elves uphold a principle of elven supremacy: no matter how fascinating, excellent, heroic, or remarkable another people's achievements might be, elven accomplishments possess an inherent superiority. This attitude has distorted their relationship with other elves, whom they sometimes regard as evidence of elven culture's decline or weakening. Some sun elves reject this thinking, but they cannot change the widespread Faerûnian image of their lineage as arrogant.

In truth, most sun elves also possess great compassion and are calm, excellent warriors, but these virtues are frequently obscured by their pride.

Sun elves have bronze skin. Their eyes are black or metallic gold or silver, while their hair may be black, metallic copper, or golden blond.

(End of Chapter)