"On the wyvern side, make sure precautions are in place. First deal with the people causing trouble. Do you know who's leading them? Did Councillor Graham really default on their goods?" Anser asked.
"The strongest faction is called Sarberg. The lord of the small city Sarberg in the Claw City-States—a stray dog who fled with quite a few guards. He's very strong."
"Councillor Graham is confronting him on site. The debt issue is probably just an excuse. They did have cooperation before, mainly involving weapons, but Sarberg didn't pay for the first batch of goods, so the cooperation ended…" Quentin knew some of the inside details.
The reputation of the Claw City-States was generally poor. Smuggling ran rampant, and taking goods without paying was extremely common.
"Councillor Graham must be protected." Seeing Anser still thinking, Quentin grew somewhat anxious. "Whether he committed a crime or not, he should be tried internally by the Union. Letting a group of outsiders bully him is trampling on the Union's dignity."
"Don't rush. Leave the city-defense guards where they are. Gather the other guards and come with me to take a look." Anser smiled faintly and stepped out.
He was merely considering these people's intentions and the degree of force that should be applied once a conflict broke out.
"They're all waiting downstairs." Quentin quickly followed.
When Anser went downstairs, he saw more than a hundred guards lined up in formation. Each carried a musket on his back and ammunition at his waist, but he knew it was mostly for show—equipment issued temporarily just to intimidate people.
The muskets had only just been distributed; the guards probably hadn't even learned how to load them yet.
Anser summoned Nornoth and mounted it. With a wave of his hand, he said, "Move out."
Quentin and Kaleno also had riding mounts provided by the Union, and they quickly mounted up and followed behind him.
Iris rode on a flying carpet, following from more than a hundred meters in the air. This was a good habit for a spellcaster—to maintain a safe distance under any circumstances.
It was still West City Avenue, already packed with people.
At least two or three hundred warriors in different armor surrounded the Iron Crown. More than a dozen guards from Durlag's Tower blocked the entrance and faced them off. Drag marks of blood were visible on the ground, and the atmosphere was extremely tense.
The surrounding area was filled with onlookers. Many adventurers even climbed onto rooftops and chimneys, their eyes shining with excitement.
As soon as Anser turned onto the street and saw this scene, he could not help sighing inwardly. In the field of watching a spectacle, the adventurers of Faerûn were truly unmatched.
"The President is here—!"
Somebody shouted, and everyone turned to look in Anser's direction. The opposing soldiers, in particular, all turned at once, raised their shields, and took up a posture of keeping the enemy out, blocking the street completely.
'Quite a lot of them. No wonder they're so brazen!'
Anser's gaze turned cold. On his own turf, they were putting on this kind of display—who were they trying to disgust?
He rode at the very front, steadily closing in. Those soldiers stirred slightly, but under the barked rebuke of a big-bearded man, they quickly calmed down and remained blocking the way ahead without yielding a single step.
They were obviously trying to give him a show of force.
Anser lifted a brow. Surging magic power churned without end. He pointed his scepter, fury burning in his eyes.
"Get lost!"
Innate Spellcasting + Metamagic: Subtle Spell + Fear!
Without any warning, an invisible cone-shaped wave swept forward with his furious shout, covering ten meters of the street.
Dozens of soldiers suddenly widened their eyes, their faces filled with terror, as if they had seen some horrifying scene. Almost at the same moment, they threw down their weapons and fled desperately in the direction away from Anser, letting out incoherent wails.
The scene instantly descended into chaos. Even when they crashed into each other hard enough to split their heads open and rolled all over the ground, they still scrambled up with both hands and feet and kept running, throwing the formation into complete disarray.
Quite a few other soldiers, not knowing what was going on, also ran in panic. These soldiers belonged to several different groups and were not under unified command.
Nornoth did not stop walking. It snorted disdainfully and continued forward. The ground underfoot was a complete mess—besides weapons, shields, and shoes lost in flight, there was also yellowish filth giving off a fishy stench.
In a state of extreme terror, people simply could not control their bowels and bladder.
"They pissed themselves…"
"A bunch of weaklings—good-looking, useless trash…"
"The Claw City-States are all a bunch of cowards. Coward City-States—good for nothing but running…"
"No, that's wrong. It should be the No-Balls City-States!"
"That's all they've got?"
"Haha…"
The surrounding crowd broke into waves of gloating mockery and ridicule. Most people did not understand the power of the Fear spell; they only saw that the new president's single angry shout had scared the other side so badly they pissed themselves.
The other side finally managed to steady their formation, but their morale was gone.
Quentin and Sheriff Pardo led the guards at a run past their own president, then formed ranks and applied pressure.
Giant Tail stood at the very front, slamming shield against hammer. Each time he struck, he let out a roar and stepped forward once.
"Roar! Roar! Roar!…"
The guards matched the rhythm, stomping and shouting in perfect unison. Their momentum rose higher and higher, forcing the other side into a clumsy retreat step by step, until they had backed off far enough to give way before the Iron Crown's main gate.
Giant Tail was, after all, the king of the Lizardfolk. He was not very sharp-witted, but leading troops in battle came to him like instinct.
Anser nodded in satisfaction. The general is the courage of the army—Quentin and Pardo acted too softly, and the guards also lacked confidence. Giant Tail was the kind of commander he ideally wanted.
The guards halted and split into two lines, opening a path.
Anser rode forward on horseback, activated Truesight, and swept his gaze across the crowd. He did not discover anything unusual.
He then fixed his eyes on the two people standing at the very front: a big-bearded man without armor and a tall professional covered head to toe in scale armor.
The dice turned slightly, and soon detected the information of the two:
[Claw City-States Elite, Human, Level 10 Barbarian (Path of the Beast)]
[Mercenary Corps Elite, Tiefling, Level 10 Fighter (Battle Master)]
'A Tiefling… that's rather rare.'
Tieflings maintained a fairly good relationship with humans, but because of their appearance and bloodline differences, their degree of integration into human society was far less than that of elves and halflings.
The other side's strength was decent, but still not enough to threaten him.
If they truly had high-level professionals, why resort to such methods? As long as they applied normally to join the Union, he would not refuse powerful reinforcements.
Anser's gaze passed over the two and looked toward the rear.
Several people wearing luxurious armor were riding tall horses and surrounded by soldiers, watching him coldly.
The big-bearded man turned his head and exchanged glances with the people behind him for a few seconds, then looked toward Anser and feigned anger.
"Is this how your Durlag Union treats guests? Debts must be repaid—wherever you go, that is only fair…"
Anser frowned, anger rising in his heart. These people simply refused to change their ways.
The swirling elemental orb suddenly trembled. Rainbow light flared brilliantly, and a flash shot out from his fingertip, heading straight toward the sky above the crowd.
Metamagic: Quickened, Subtle, Transmuted + Fireball — Thunder!
"Watch out—" the big-bearded man hurriedly warned, but he had been talking continuously, and the others did not hear clearly.
BOOM—
A deafening thunderclap exploded out of nowhere, only twenty meters above the crowd, like a bolt from a clear sky. The shock knocked them off their feet and threw the formation into chaos. Some people had blood flowing from their ears, went deaf, and collapsed to the ground trembling.
Not only them—even the guards and onlookers farther away felt their ears ringing, and for a moment no one could hear anything.
It was also Anser's first time casting a thunder-aspected Fireball. The effect was quite good.
He had only intended to intimidate them, not to injure anyone. The airburst distance was relatively far, so it would not cause fatal injuries. After a short time, most would recover.
Of course, a few unlucky ones with ruptured eardrums might suffer aftereffects—reduced hearing, tinnitus, dizziness, and the like.
The other side had gathered so many troops; it was clearly pressure and coercion directed at him. Their demands were unclear, but they undoubtedly revolved around profit.
Since they had already pushed their luck this far, he had no reason to hold back.
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