While chatting and joking, the group arrived at the room with the number 28 hanging outside. Bratt unlocked the door, and everyone went in to take a look around, all of them showing satisfied expressions.
The room was a little over thirty square meters, fairly clean, with no strong odors. There were two large beds, a table and chairs, and in one corner a washroom. There was no flush toilet, but there was a faucet and a drain, allowing for manual rinsing.
Anser nodded, relatively satisfied.
Compared with this living environment and its level of safety, five silver coins were indeed not expensive.
He stepped into the washroom. Facing him was a small cracked mirror, in which was reflected a face rich in spirit. Tea-gray hair shimmered with a silvery sheen, dragon scales faintly visible beneath the skin, flowing with a subtle metallic luster.
"Is this me?" The journey had been too hurried; this was the first time he had seen his own appearance.
"No wonder Rand didn't recognize me. There's a shadow of the original owner, but compared to before, it's like a completely different person."
He was tall, with long legs, upright and well-proportioned. His features were fairly defined, yet when combined they appeared gentle, giving off an indescribable sense of approachability. His black eyes were dark and deep, full of mystery, possessing a magic-like attraction.
At this moment, the word Charisma became tangible!
Anser was secretly astonished. "The change from prioritizing Charisma is actually this big."
After admiring himself for a while, he returned to the room.
Bratt was counting the spoils obtained from the earlier "intimidation." This had been the team's first battle since its formation.
One suit of chain armor of decent quality, one cloak, three inferior gemstones, thirty-seven gold coins, forty-one silver coins, and over a hundred copper coins.
"A bit too little," he said, somewhat dissatisfied.
"It's already not bad," Anser replied, momentarily at a loss. The disaster had come suddenly; being able to survive was already fortunate enough. How many people could bring all their property with them?
"You handle the money," Bratt said with a serious expression. "Since we're a team now, we need to set proper rules. We can't distribute the spoils based on emotions."
"What do you think?" Anser did not really understand these things; the original owner had not experienced them either.
Finn quietly moved over and pricked up his ears to listen. He had originally lived out in the wilderness—how would he know about this?
Bratt pondered for a moment and said, "Every team has different rules, and there are many influencing factors…"
Generally speaking, the distribution of spoils is based on contribution. Mental effort, experience, combat strength, and assistance to the team are all important factors.
Spellcasters who command many spells and can resolve all kinds of predicaments generally do not join adventuring parties, but once they do, they will inevitably have certain privileges, because they possess an extremely wide range of methods for solving problems.
After discussing for quite a while, they ultimately decided that the team leader, Anser, would take half of the adventure's proceeds, while the remaining half would be split evenly between Bratt and Finn, with expenses incurred during the adventure borne by the team.
As for spoils actually obtained in adventures and combat, these would still be adjusted to a certain extent according to each person's contribution.
Anser pulled over the set of scale-mail cloak armor, pointed his staff at it, and with a short incantation, the bloodstains and grime on the armor instantly disappeared, making it look as good as new.
This was the cantrip Prestidigitation, which can create sensory effects, play with fire, clean, soil, create magical marks, and conjure objects. Its effects are not strong, but it is very practical.
"The scale-mail cloak armor goes to you, priced at eighty percent of market value—let's say… forty gold coins. We'll record it for now, and you can make up the difference when you have the money. The remaining money will be used to purchase supplies and won't be distributed for the time being. How does that sound?" Anser proposed.
"Alright…" Neither of them had any objections; this was also standard practice.
The core of spoils distribution lies in "prior agreement by all members" and "immediate post-battle settlement." Leaving things unclear sooner or later leads to major trouble.
After the distribution was finished, Anser lay back on the bed and relaxed. A wave after wave of fatigue immediately welled up within his body; the earlier fight at the bridgehead had indeed overtaxed him a bit.
"Rest for an hour."
"Okay…"
Anser casually pulled up the character panel. His magic power was below half, his experience points had reached 827/900, and he was about to level up.
"Early leveling really is fast."
He closed his eyes and entered meditation.
They said they would rest for an hour, but nearly two hours later the group gradually woke up. The earlier battle, though brief, had taken quite a toll on everyone.
Anser rubbed his head, feeling that the surrounding magic power seemed even more chaotic.
After gaining "magic power control," his perception of magic power had become increasingly sensitive, and he did not think this was an illusion.
"Huh, strange."
He took out his pocket watch. The hands had just passed four o'clock, yet outside the window it was as dark as evening.
"It's a bit stifling. It might rain."
He had barely finished speaking when a white flash flared outside the window, and rumbling thunder exploded overhead.
Bratt fell silent for a moment, then sighed. "I wonder how many people are going to die."
Tens of thousands of people were crammed into a city district that had originally housed only a few thousand. With too little to eat and drink and no place to live, once the torrential rain came, how could the weak withstand it?
Anser understood how he felt. In his previous life, whenever he saw news about disasters ravaging certain nations, he could not help but empathize with the videos of the people affected—especially the children. Don't be fooled by how venomous he could be when arguing online in ordinary times; when he saw other people struck by disaster, how could he not empathize?
But this was another world. Although he had inherited the original owner's scattered memories, it was still hard for him not to treat other people as mere characters in a game. What's more, Baldur's Gate was home to multiple races living together—not only humans, but also half-elves, dwarves, halflings, dragonborn…
He shook his head and stopped thinking about it. "Let's go buy some supplies, and while we're at it, get rid of these things."
He kicked the bundle. Most of it was heavy weapons and equipment. Bratt had carried it all the way here and had not suffered lightly. He should have borrowed a handcart from the old cleric earlier.
"Let's go, let's go. Maybe there'll be good stuff." Bratt immediately became interested.
That was not just talk. Anser had discussed it with him: with the Weave in turmoil and natural disasters descending, the wealthiest group of spellcasters had lost most of their spellcasting ability. Whether passively or actively, some of the good things in their hands would always end up circulating out.
"Bring all the valuables," Bratt reminded them. "The room isn't safe. Just listen to the 'compensation' talk—if they catch the thief, they'll compensate; if they don't catch them, they won't. But generally, ordinary people don't have the nerve to steal things here."
"Understood."
They locked the door, carried their things downstairs, and had only just stepped into the guild hall when a piercing alarm sounded, echoing through half the city district.
"They're fighting, they're fighting! The underground creatures are attacking Flaming Fist Fortress…"
The hall instantly erupted into clamor, and adventurers rushed outside one after another.
Anser frowned, always feeling that something was off. To the north lay open ground—why would the Duergar insist on forcing an assault on Flaming Fist Fortress?
The group walked out of the hall. The main road was packed to the point of congestion. This place was not far from Wyrm's Crossing, but it lay directly south of the towering fortress, making it impossible to see the situation on the northern front at all.
"Have your animal companion go take a look." Anser patted Finn on the arm.
"Mm."
Finn's gaze turned vacant as he immediately contacted the gray hawk and directed it to go investigate the situation.
A Ranger's Beast Master subclass can summon a primal beast—land, sea, or sky. This beast bears the imprint of primal power, and its strength is far beyond that of ordinary beasts.
After a primal beast dies, it can be revived by its master, or a new one can be summoned.
Finn's gray hawk possessed flight and darkvision. It was very useful for daytime reconnaissance, but it usually flew relatively high; otherwise, it was easy to draw the attention of creatures like Stirges.
"The city district and the bridge deck are full of underground creatures—several thousand, maybe tens of thousands. No siege equipment; the fighting isn't intense…" Finn described intermittently, his voice carrying a hint of shock.
"They came up this fast?" Anser's heart skipped a beat. The Underdark is connected to the human world, but moving up on such a large scale is not an easy matter.
"Didn't you say the Underdark is resource-poor? How can it support so many creatures?" Bratt asked in confusion.
"The upper layers of the Underdark are fine—there are dark rivers, fungi, mosses, and various animals." Anser's expression shifted. "But this number really is a bit too large, unless… they were prepared in advance."
"The breach at the River Chionthar has been sealed off, with underground creatures guarding it," Finn added.
"As expected."
The River Chionthar leads straight to the sea. Even if the Underdark is a multi-layered three-dimensional structure, it wouldn't be able to withstand it; if the flooding continued, the Duergar cities might suffer large-scale collapses.
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