Chapter 428

Anser was bursting with energy. Going several days without eating or sleeping had no effect on his condition.

Once professionals reached the pinnacle of mortal power, their bodies inevitably became somewhat inhuman.

Besides, Anser had multiclassed extensively. Although his total character level hadn’t changed, he possessed all the class features he’d acquired, making his body fundamentally different even from that of an ordinary dragon.

He had originally planned to spend the entire night reading, but one urgent report after another kept interrupting him.

The orcs of the Kingdom of Many-Arrows had launched a massive southward offensive. Some had bypassed Felbarr and continued south, while a coalition of more than ten thousand orcs had completely surrounded the fortress.

After nightfall, they suddenly launched a fierce assault.

However, the orcs lacked siege equipment, and the Silver Marches had prepared in advance. Felbarr barely managed to hold out, but its defenses remained intact.

Meanwhile, the orcs from the Spine of the World had also divided their forces after overrunning Mirabar.

One army followed the road south, another headed directly west toward Luskan, and a third marched southwest, possibly targeting Neverwinter.

Although the orcs had split into three armies, the situation remained dire. Conservative estimates placed their total strength at well over a hundred thousand. Even divided into three forces, they were far beyond what an ordinary city could handle.

The good news was that the orcs were concentrating their efforts on the coastal city of Luskan.

Located north of Neverwinter, Luskan was known as the City of Sails and straddled the icy River Mirar.

Its ruling High Captains and the Arcane Brotherhood were both famous, though hardly for admirable reasons.

It was also Anser’s ancestral home, a notorious haven for pirates whose relations with the Lords’ Alliance were exceptionally poor.

With Luskan bearing the brunt of the first wave, the Lords’ Alliance would at least have some breathing room.

As the orc threat drew closer, the Underdark creatures occupying Baldur’s Gate were hardly sitting idle.

After Anser had devastated one duergar army, another duergar force had taken the initiative to gather the scattered survivors, treat the wounded, and resume its northeastward march.

They hid and rested during the day, traveling only at night. Their destination remained unknown.

The two drow expeditionary armies had also continued advancing without pause, plundering several villages along the way. They seized supplies to replenish their provisions and took captives to serve as slave soldiers, steadily swelling their ranks.

Judging by their movements, their target was very likely Paros!

Naturally, plenty of people were growing restless.

Quentin had stayed awake all night assembling a fifty-person administrative team, preparing to take over Grand Duke Ravengard’s remaining assets first thing the next morning.

Stoll had taken the easy way out, leaving all military matters to Makaria.

Makaria selected a number of junior and mid-ranking officers, forming a delegation of forty or fifty officers who would travel alongside Quentin’s team.

Their concerns were entirely justified.

Paros was only a little over a hundred kilometers from Baldur’s Gate. Even on foot, the journey would take just a few days.

If they arrived too late, they might find their newly acquired troops and assets trapped by the drow armies, unable even to withdraw.

The constant messages from Quentin and the others made it impossible for Anser to concentrate on his reading. He finally decided to contact Grand Duke Ravengard ahead of time to coordinate the handover.

The Grand Duke was evidently having trouble sleeping as well. He replied to every message almost instantly.

A great many people would be losing sleep in the coming days. This was no longer a localized war. It could very well escalate into a massive conflict engulfing all of Faerûn.

As soon as the first light of dawn appeared, Anser began moving without waiting for Quentin to urge him.

He first traveled to Durlag and teleported Stoll, Makaria, and their team to Paros.

Then he teleported to Whitestone Island and transported Quentin’s team to the Grand Duke’s manor.

Grand Duke Ravengard had already sent people to receive them. Once the two parties met, they exchanged brief introductions and immediately began the handover.

One side wanted a powerful protector and was willingly placing itself under the Federation’s authority. The other was eager to take over as quickly as possible. Neither had any ulterior motives, so their cooperation proceeded remarkably smoothly.

Before arriving, Stoll had kept talking about showing the Flaming Fist who was in charge. But when he finally met them, he discovered that the Flaming Fist was no longer what it used to be.

Their fighting spirit had been crushed. All their former arrogance and pride had vanished.

It was hardly surprising. An elite force of more than three thousand had been reduced to just five hundred survivors. What they had endured must have been horrific.

Anser had grown up in Baldur’s Gate and knew the Flaming Fist all too well. Seeing them in such a state left him feeling rather melancholy.

Still, even a fallen giant retained considerable strength.

The combined forces of Baldur’s Gate’s city guards and the Flaming Fist were still more formidable than the Federation’s Central Army.

Once these troops were fully integrated, the Federation’s military strength would increase by at least fifty percent.

The handover would take quite some time, so Grand Duke Ravengard quietly pulled Anser aside and led him toward his reception room.

The furnishings were unchanged, and the delicate aroma of tea still lingered in the air. This time, however, someone else was sitting on the sofa.

Adrie Silverleaf.

She was the Chief Councilor of the Independent Council of Paros and the woman who governed the city.

Paros had a relatively short history and had only ever had two Chief Councilors. Silverleaf had served longer than her predecessor and was responsible for bringing the city to the height of its prosperity.

Her predecessor had been her father.

Such arrangements were hardly unusual in Faerûn. Councils were sometimes established to balance the distribution of power, not necessarily to pursue political fairness or democratic freedom. Family connections were perfectly commonplace.

Even Waterdeep’s Council of Masked Lords, one of the most authoritative governing bodies around, had seen the position of Open Lord pass between the Blackstaff, his wife, and his student.

“You two talk. I’ll go keep an eye on things,” Grand Duke Ravengard said without entering.

He closed the door behind him, and the sound of his brisk footsteps faded down the corridor.

Silverleaf rose to her feet. She wore a fitted black dress that accentuated her graceful figure and fair, delicate skin.

Taking a deep breath, she lifted her skirt slightly and bowed.

“Lord Holrewen, I am Adrie Silverleaf, Chief Councilor of the Independent Council of Paros.”

“Lady Silverleaf, Gwyneth has told me about you.”

Anser stepped forward, gave her a brief look from head to toe, and sat down opposite her.

“Please, have a seat. You can just call me Anser.”

Times had changed. He was now the one in a position of power, representing the Holrewen Federation. He could afford to be polite, but there was no reason for him to be deferential.

Adrie Silverleaf sat across from him, maintaining an elegant posture. Her slender back was perfectly straight, and her expression remained cool and reserved.

Anser was immediately reminded of Gwyneth.

Both were moon elves. Although their appearances differed, there were quite a few similarities between them.

The die rotated slightly, displaying her information.

[Adrie Silverleaf, Moon Elf, Level 18 Sorcerer (Lunar Sorcery)]

A thought occurred to him.

“Lady Silverleaf, are you Gwyneth’s mentor?”

Lunar Sorcery was hardly a common sorcerous subclass. With both women living in the same city, it seemed unlikely that they had learned it independently.

“Yes. Did she tell you?” Adrie raised her eyebrows, looking somewhat surprised.

“Just a guess,” Anser replied with a smile.

Gwyneth wasn’t the clingy type, nor was she particularly talkative. Even when she occasionally sent him messages, they were usually about official business.

“An accurate guess. I’ve watched Gwyneth grow up. I never imagined that after a single trip away, I wouldn’t be able to persuade her to come home.”

Adrie studied Anser, a complicated look in her eyes.

Before meeting him, she had found Gwyneth’s behavior rather difficult to understand. Now that she had seen him in person, everything made sense.

His extraordinary bearing and astonishing charm had left even her momentarily dazed. She could only imagine how others reacted when they met him.

“That was her own choice.”

Anser certainly wasn’t about to admit to stealing her away.

“So the two of you haven’t taken your relationship that far.”

“Heh.”

Anser silently admired a woman’s sixth sense, but he made no attempt to deny it.

Adrie lowered her head slightly and stared at the teapot as its contents gradually cooled.

After a long moment, she lifted the hem of her dress, walked around the tea table, and settled sideways onto Anser’s lap, resting one hand against his chest.

“Marry me.”

Feeling the warmth of her body and the softness of her figure against his legs, Anser’s expression froze.

‘Does this woman have a split personality or something? What a drastic change! She was so cold and reserved just a moment ago. How did she suddenly become this frighteningly forward?’