Nornoth's intelligence wasn't high, but that was only in comparison to humans.
Its intelligence was roughly equivalent to that of a ten-year-old child. On top of that, it was naturally alert and perceptive, so it didn't need Anser's commands at all.
Anser was happy to have some peace and quietly brought up Nornoth's character sheet.
This was what made Nornoth most special—it had its own independent character sheet on the dice!
"Experienced, with levels… then can it level up?" He stroked the stubble on his chin, deep in thought.
He tried allocating some experience points to Nornoth, but the character sheet didn't budge at all.
"There must be something different about it."
After several attempts, he was still completely at a loss and could only give up for the time being, focusing on pressing onward.
The weather was scorching, and the roads were hard to traverse. Afraid that Nornoth might get worn out, he stopped to rest several times.
He also used Ray of Frost to create some ice, wrapped it in waterproof cloth, and used it to help everyone cool down.
Nornoth was a fey that could draw energy from magic power or natural spirits. Its requirements for food weren't high, but it could still get tired and still needed proper rest and nourishment.
At midday, it developed a fondness for raw crab meat, polishing off more than ten pounds by itself and looking at Finn with noticeably greater warmth afterward.
After Anser fed it its first chunk of ice, it also fell in love with ice.
While traveling, Anser had no choice but to feed it a few pieces every so often.
With one man and one mount interacting like this, neither felt tired, and time passed quickly.
The wilderness was vast. At first, they could still see waves of refugees and scattered corpses, but the farther they went, the fewer people there were, until by afternoon there was almost no one to be seen.
After more than half a day, Bratt and the other man were physically exhausted and mentally drained. Only Anser and Nornoth remained energetic throughout.
Riding a horse naturally didn't tire him, and having escaped the threat of death, everything he saw felt interesting.
Unfamiliar plants and flowers, strange beasts and birds, unusual natural scenery…
He had only arrived in this world a few days ago, and the sense of novelty was overwhelming. He didn't feel bored in the slightest.
Bratt glanced at the sun, which was no longer glaring, and asked somewhat listlessly, "How much farther to the west coast?"
"More than halfway there. At most, there are about thirty-two kilometers left," Anser estimated.
Baldur's Gate was a natural harbor, roughly sixty to seventy kilometers from the river mouth. Even traveling by a medium-sized sailing ship took more than ten hours.
Bratt pointed at a stretch of greenery to the south and asked, "Did we go off course? Is that the Cloakwood Forest?"
"It might be an extension of the Cloakwood Forest," Anser said, pulling out the map, not entirely certain.
"If I'd known, we should've stayed in the village ahead," Bratt said with some regret. They had seen two villages from afar along the way but hadn't stopped.
"There's a village up ahead called… Giant Red Elk Village," Anser said, pointing at the map.
"Mhm." Finn nodded. Grayhawk had seen it as well.
"How far?" Bratt's spirits lifted.
"Just past that stretch of woodland."
"Let's go."
Following Grayhawk's guidance, the group headed southwest for more than ten minutes. After passing through a patch of sparse woodland, a village appeared ahead, with roughly several dozen households.
"Good terrain," Bratt commented.
The area was flat and dry, with no standing water. The ground had clearly been reinforced, making it indeed well suited for resting.
"Why isn't there a single person here?" Anser frowned slightly. It was far too quiet.
"Is this an abandoned village?" Bratt asked, carefully examining the dilapidated and collapsed buildings.
"Look," Anser shook his head and pointed at the scattered footprints and cart tracks around them. "It might be abandoned, but a lot of people have definitely been here."
Finn crouched down to observe for a moment, then said with certainty, "There are both old and new ones. Some are from today."
"Probably refugees," Bratt speculated. "After all, the village is marked on the map."
Anser turned to Finn beside him. "Any monsters or wild beasts nearby?"
"Nothing. No monsters, no large beasts," Finn said, shaking his head.
"Let's go in and take a look."
Anser and the others steeled themselves and entered the deserted village in a combat formation.
However, aside from the mess everywhere and the thick layer of dust covering everything, there were no corpses or signs of chaotic destruction.
Even so, for some reason, Anser felt deeply uneasy.
They had only just moved deeper into the village when, from the window of a wooden house in the distance, a dark head suddenly poked out—an elongated snout, curved horns, black scales…
The group was startled and immediately assumed battle stances.
"Looks like a dragonborn," Bratt warned.
There were quite a few dragonborn in Baldur's Gate, and everyone had seen them before. Still, their appearance differed far too much from humans', and having one suddenly show up like this was enough to give anyone a scare.
At that moment, the door of the wooden house opened, and several people walked out. Aside from the black dragonborn, the rest were all human.
Each of them was armed and wearing armor, mostly studded leather. The colors and styles were similar, but it didn't look like there were any spellcasters among them.
The holy symbol Anser kept hidden in his clothes suddenly grew scorching hot. His heart tightened, and he immediately gave the other two a look, signaling them to be cautious.
Perhaps afraid of being misunderstood, the black dragonborn walked over empty-handed, while the others stayed where they were.
"Greetings." The dragonborn's voice sounded like clashing metal, deep and powerful, with a rumbling echo like thunder at the end.
He looked Anser and Nornoth up and down, his eyes filled with surprise. "We're from Alaron, headed for Baldur's Gate. We stopped here to rest for a bit. Did you come from Baldur's Gate? We heard something happened there—what's the situation now?"
Alaron was the largest island of the Moonshae Isles, lying across the sea from Baldur's Gate.
Anser remained calm. "Last night, the riverbank at the estuary collapsed, and Rivington District was flooded. We left in a hurry, so we don't know what things are like now."
"I see." The black dragonborn's eyes shifted. It was hard to read any expression on his lizard-like face. "I heard that parts of Baldur's Gate collapsed and that large numbers of underground creatures appeared. Is that true?"
"I've heard that too, but I didn't see it myself, so I wouldn't dare say anything recklessly." Anser smiled faintly, still playing dumb.
During the brief exchange, he had already seen through the other party's information:
[Amn elite, dragonborn, level 3 Barbarian (Berserker)]
Clearly, the other party was lying.
The black dragonborn ran into one dead end after another with Anser. Even though he knew Anser was deliberately withholding information, there wasn't much he could do about it.
Feigning casualness, he swept his gaze around, then pointed to the house behind him and said, "We're staying in that wooden house. All the other houses are empty—you can choose for yourselves."
With that, he waved his hand, turned around, and left.
Anser narrowed his eyes. He had wanted to look up more people's information, but hadn't expected the other party to leave so quickly and so decisively.
"We're leaving too," Anser said with a wave of his hand. Nornoth stretched its long legs and turned onto another village road.
The group moved at a brisk pace and, after cutting straight across the village, did not stop.
"That dragonborn's accent is off. It sounded like an Amn accent," Bratt said thoughtfully.
"How can you tell?" Anser slowed his steps. He knew Bratt's hometown was on the Dragon Coast, not particularly close to Amn.
"I've been there. Amn is wealthy, but unfortunately, everything costs money," Bratt said with a regretful shake of his head.
"You're very perceptive," Anser praised. "Both the people and the place feel wrong. We're not camping here."
"That's what I was thinking too," Bratt replied.
"Mhm." Finn agreed as well.
After leaving the village, a medium-sized lake lay directly ahead, its surface shimmering with ripples. Dense vegetation surrounded it, and the scenery was pleasant.
Anser noticed clear signs of cultivation around the lakeshore. For some reason, the land had been abandoned.
The group skirted along the northern shore of the lake, crossed over a tall grassy slope, and a temporary camp suddenly came into view.
Twenty or thirty tents were arranged in an orderly fashion by the lakeside. Dozens of people were busy about their tasks—some clearing land, some fishing, while children and the elderly played nearby.
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