After the old king's death, the charge of patricide naturally fell upon the Second Prince, Emmanuel.
After all, he was a Chosen of an evil god, and he had surrounded the Star Palace with troops.
Otherwise, why would the old king have died at the very moment Emmanuel's identity as a Chosen was exposed?
Yet judging from the old king's ambiguous attitude on the night he ordered the Royal Guard to surround the stone tower, it was obvious that he placed enormous importance on his second son's status as a Chosen, even to the point of offending the Church of Selûne.
Perhaps he had known Emmanuel's identity all along.
If that were the case, Emmanuel had no reason to murder his own father.
The one who truly had reason to panic was the Crown Prince. This upheaval could have cost him any chance of ascending to the Star Palace. Being first in line to the throne was nothing compared to his father's favor and a god's blessing.
From that perspective, launching a palace coup ahead of time would make perfect sense.
'Your faction really does matter.'
Anser couldn't help sighing.
Simply because Emmanuel was a Chosen of an evil god, once he was accused of patricide, everyone accepted it without question.
Bad people were supposed to do bad things.
That wasn't just true in this information-starved world. Even in his previous life, with the internet everywhere, how many people had actually been capable of telling right from wrong?
Following the crowd and blindly accepting popular opinion had always been the norm.
What many people failed to realize was that the enemy of an evil man wasn't necessarily a good man.
The Crown Prince...
...might actually be even worse.
Once the truth came to light, the Crown Prince would inevitably face suspicion, but public opinion alone wasn't enough to threaten his claim to the throne.
'The Crown Prince is kind of stingy.'
Anser curled his lips.
He had inadvertently helped the man secure the throne, yet all he'd received in return were two properties and a trade license. It wasn't exactly a generous show of gratitude.
That said, the stability of the Rock of Bral was a tremendous boon to his business plans and spared him a great deal of trouble.
'Where would Emmanuel go?'
After giving it considerable thought, Anser decided that Emmanuel was unlikely to flee to Amn.
Amn was famous as a mercantile nation. It had religious freedom, no state religion, and a permissive legal system built entirely around the pursuit of wealth—values that were fundamentally at odds with Bane's teachings.
The Council of Five was far too shrewd to invite a wolf into their own house.
Zhentil Keep or the Moonsea region seemed far more likely. As long as Emmanuel didn't end up bordering Anser's territory, however, it wasn't much of a concern.
A Chosen of Bane who was that intelligent, even if consumed by hatred, wouldn't deliberately make life harder for himself. He would most likely choose somewhere with better prospects for growth.
With that in mind, Anser immediately used Sending to contact Iris, asking her to visit the Adventurers' Guild and change the bounty on Bane's Chosen from a kill bounty to a tracking bounty.
Anyone who provided credible information would receive a reward, ranging from several hundred to several thousand gold pieces.
The five hundred thousand gold pieces he saved would be poured into expanding the Durlag Union—more than enough to sustain it until his commercial empire began generating profits.
It wasn't that he was particularly attached to being a lord.
He was simply adapting to Toril's rules of survival.
There was an enormous difference between a lone adventurer and a noble who ruled vast lands. Their status wasn't remotely comparable.
Now he commanded numerous elite, high-ranking, and even peak-tier professionals. Anyone who wanted to move against him first had to think very carefully about whether they could afford the consequences.
{Quentin, how's the new Union charter coming along? We've got a new councilor joining us, and I'm planning to convene a senior council meeting.} (Sending)
{Kaleno, have you picked a site for the Dawn Town outpost yet? Feel free to use the gold and grain in the Party Storage.} (Sending)
{Kafka, are you settling into life at the Magic Academy? Does the City of a Thousand Spells have any local specialties? If you've got some free time, you could try your hand at a little trading and earn your own tuition.} (Sending)
Anser treated Sending like voice messages, contacting everyone one by one to check on their progress.
The more he used this 3rd-level spell, the more indispensable it became. He found himself wanting to cast it all the time, though he deliberately held himself back. Using it too frequently was bound to annoy people.
After all, what if someone happened to be in the middle of a fight, taking a dump... or rolling around in bed? That would be way too intrusive.
Far away on the continent of Faerûn, everyone was momentarily stunned when they received the Sending spell. Then understanding dawned on them, and they hurriedly replied in their minds, afraid the spell's duration would expire before they could respond.
Quentin: {I've finished the first draft. When are you coming to White Stone Island to review it?}
Kaleno: {Uh... I've only just gotten familiar with the area...}
Kafka: {The atmosphere for studying here is great. I'm not sure about the local specialties—I haven't even gone out yet.}
Anser shook his head slightly. His chief steward really was the dependable one.
Kafka was something of a homebody and far too straightforward.
Kaleno, meanwhile, had only one thing on his mind: finding his sister. Anser fully supported him and completely understood how he felt.
'I could try using Sending.'
The proper spells for locating someone were Scrying and Locate Creature, neither of which he knew. But even the feedback from Sending could reveal some useful information.
Silently, he recited the moon elf's name—Gwyneth Moonshadow Quelin—while recalling her cool, aloof features, then cast Sending, targeting her.
The spell went through successfully. It neither failed nor was it blocked, and those were the only two things he could confirm.
'Does that mean she's still alive?'
He wasn't sure and could only wait.
But after several dozen seconds, the spell's effect faded completely, and no reply came.
'Sigh...'
He let out a quiet sigh, composed himself, and resisted the urge to send another message immediately.
The good news was that the message had gone through, meaning Gwyneth was most likely still alive. There were plenty of reasons why she might not have replied: the message could have been lost, she could have been unconscious, under the effects of magic, or simply unwilling to answer.
A few minutes later, he tried again.
{Gwyneth, are you alright? Where are you now?} (Sending)
{Anser?! I'm in the North Ward of Waterdeep! Where are you? Are Captain Salian, Kaleno, Darla, and the others alright—}
Her urgent mental reply came instantly, as if she were afraid of wasting even a single second.
Unfortunately, the message was too long, and much of it was lost.
A smile spread across Anser's face. The weight on his heart finally lifted. He wanted to tell Kaleno immediately, but quickly restrained himself.
'Waterdeep?'
Waterdeep was no short distance from Baldur's Gate. It was well over a thousand kilometers away, with Paros, the Fields of the Dead, the Trollbark Forest, Daggerford, and other regions lying in between. Even if they had been fleeing for their lives, there had been no need to run that far.
{Are you safe now? Why did you end up in Waterdeep?} (Sending)
Gwyneth: {I'm safe, but not free. I brought everyone to Waterdeep through a portal belonging to House Wyndrivver...}
Spending mana without hesitation, Anser exchanged more than a dozen Sending messages with Gwyneth before he finally pieced together her situation.
House Wyndrivver was an old noble house of Waterdeep with deep roots. While escaping Silver Scale Bay, they had opened a portal that saved many people, including members of the Moonshadow Quelin.
But they weren't a charity, and opening a portal came at a price.
So they demanded steep compensation—and those who couldn't afford to pay had to work it off.
As a result, everyone had been forced to remain in Waterdeep to earn their keep. Gwyneth, as an elite Sorcerer, had been assigned the position of...
...a private tutor.
'Hmm... That job sounds strangely familiar.'
Anser suddenly thought of Waterdeep's Noble Mercantile Alliance.
The Margaster family executive who had sold him the Westwind Horseshoes had once extended him the same invitation.
'Is that actually a respectable job?'
He didn't have the nerve to ask.
Perhaps House Wyndrivver truly meant well. The compensation might simply have been an excuse. If they had let Gwyneth leave, she almost certainly would have returned in search of her younger brother, and that would have been far too dangerous.
'I should go see for myself. First, I'll get her out of there.'
He headed downstairs and found Stoll, who was drinking and swapping tall tales with General Smokefire. Anser asked him to accompany him to Waterdeep.
Stoll paused and gave him a strange look.
"So... are you coming back to Fort Jacqueline afterward?"
"Of course. I'm just helping Kaleno find his sister." Anser looked puzzled.
"Good."
Stoll visibly relaxed, slung his greatsword across his back, and stepped to Anser's side.
It wasn't that he was being overly suspicious. Waterdeep's allure was in a league of its own compared to Durlag. Even Iris's grandfather had left for Waterdeep—and never returned.
Anser didn't think much of it. After informing Nefis, he cast Teleport, setting Waterdeep as their destination.
A flash of light engulfed them.
The two vanished from where they stood.
---
I will post some extra Chapters in Patreon, you can check it out. >> patreon.com/TitoVillar
---