The scene fell into silence. After quite a while, the surrounding adventurers finally reacted, shouting hoarsely for their companions to fall back.
If that happened again, their ears would probably ring for several days.
"Step forward when you speak. Why are you hiding in the back?"
Anser's voice was calm, yet no one dared ignore him anymore.
The bearded man no longer dared to speak. His eyes repeatedly glanced toward the rear, but he did not see his own master. The horses had been shaken to the ground, foaming at the mouth, and several nobles had just struggled to their feet, their clothes disheveled and their faces covered in dust.
That tiefling warrior leaned on his longsword and remained silent the entire time. Behind the helmet, a faint hint of amusement still lingered in his eyes.
This was completely different from the plan.
Durlag was beset by internal and external troubles, its strength declining. The one they were "bullying" was also a councillor who was about to be removed from office. Originally, they had thought that with a little pressure, he would bring his "assets" and join their side, replacing Graham as the new councillor.
After that, they would unite and gradually sideline the new president…
But this young man was not acting according to common sense at all.
They had wagered that the Union would not dare to fight. Their numbers were one factor, and their high-level combat power was certainly not weak either. But if it truly came to a fight, they themselves would not dare go all out—they simply did not have that kind of resolve.
"Which one of you is Mr. Sarberg?"
Anser's expression remained unchanged, though he felt somewhat regretful inside. It seemed that today he would not be gaining any experience points.
In fact, he could have pretended to back down, retreating step by step until he appeared cornered and unable to endure the oppression any longer, before launching a fierce counterattack. That was how it was usually written in novels.
But he had not done so.
He was a person of refinement and composure. Perhaps.
More importantly, he intended to expand the Union's scale and the number of councillor seats. Taking this opportunity to recruit some talent would be beneficial. He could be strong, but he could not be overly domineering.
A man wearing a black-and-gold hooded robe and a short beard pushed through the crowd and stepped forward.
"I am Tyron Sarberg. Greetings, Lord Holrewen. I believe there must be some misunderstanding here."
"What are you doing gathering so many soldiers? You even injured my guards. When you were chased everywhere by kobolds you ran like frightened dogs, yet once you reached this place you suddenly became bold again. Do you think Durlag is easy to bully, so you want to build yourselves a new home here, hmm?"
Anser spoke lightly, as if he were simply stating a fact.
Tyron's expression stiffened, and he hurriedly explained, "Nothing like that. I do have a small business dispute with Mr. Graham. When we were discussing it, my temper got the better of me, which caused a minor conflict. But it's already been resolved."
Anser looked at him. The dice rotated slightly and information popped up:
[Tyron, Human, Level 7 Fighter (Eldritch Knight)]
'Eldritch Knight really is a noble's profession.'
He turned his head to look at Graham, whose eyes were bloodshot and who looked somewhat haggard. "Councillor Graham, is that so?"
"We have no dispute. Mr. Sarberg must be remembering incorrectly." Graham bowed slightly, a faint ripple stirring in his heart.
He had once thought that he would become a discarded pawn. He had not expected the new president to be so frighteningly tough—just now, he had clearly been heading straight for a fight.
"Councillor Quentin, what crime would gathering a crowd to cause trouble, disturbing public order, and assaulting guards amount to?" Anser asked with a light laugh.
Quentin's heart skipped a beat. He glanced at Anser, forced himself to answer, and feigned calmness. "Flogging, imprisonment, and fines."
He was putting it lightly. Gathering a crowd to cause trouble and assaulting guards amounted to resisting rule and authority; even hanging would not have been an unreasonable sentence.
"Who gave the order, and who laid hands on them?" Anser looked at Tyron.
"Lord Holrewen, it was only a misunderstanding. I am willing to pay for their redemption—one thousand gold coins." A trace of humiliation and anger flashed through Tyron's eyes, but he forcibly restrained himself from erupting.
"This is not Amn," Anser emphasized.
Amn was an oligarchic regime, where everything was measured by "money." Its laws favored the rich, and fines could replace corporal punishment or imprisonment.
Tyron took several deep breaths, closed his eyes, waved his hand, and threw down a money pouch.
The bearded man's hand, which had been gripping the axe handle, loosened weakly. He had the courage to risk his life, but reality always left people helpless.
Very soon, a squad of ten men was shoved forward. The others left dejectedly, not even daring to pick up the weapons and equipment on the ground.
Quentin let out a sigh of relief and ordered the guards to take the men into custody and clean up the scene.
"Not fighting was the right choice. If a real fight had broken out, the entire West City might have been destroyed." He came to Anser's side and spoke in a low voice. "But they will definitely hold a grudge."
"Send people to watch them. Inform me immediately if there is any abnormal movement." Anser let out a cold laugh.
A little later, he planned to call Finn out and have him and Grey Eagle keep watch on them specifically. In any case, Finn had nothing to do at Holrewen.
"And also, investigate the two professionals at the very front—one barbarian and one tiefling fighter. Buy some intelligence from the Thieves' Guild. As soon as possible."
"Alright."
Anser felt that those two professionals were quite good. Following a noble like Sarberg, who was both underhanded and foolish, offered no future at all.
Elite professionals generally would not sign slave contracts, so the chance of recruiting them was quite high. Right now, he had people, money, and territory—his capital was abundant.
The onlookers gradually dispersed, animated and still full of excitement.
Although no fight had broken out, the spectacle had not been lacking in the slightest. Ever since the new president arrived at Durlag, there was almost something lively to watch every day.
Anser swung himself down from his horse and entered the Iron Crown shop. The three injured guards were lying on the ground. Their injuries were not too serious—just fractures and external wounds.
When the three saw him, they struggled to get up, but he raised a hand to stop them.
He crouched down and touched the guard who had been stabbed in the chest. The blessing-filled Lay on Hands flowed in, and the wound healed at a speed visible to the naked eye.
"Did you lose your nerve?" Anser asked with a smile.
The guard was taken aback. A trace of embarrassment appeared on his youthful face. "N-no."
"Haha, being afraid is normal. True courage is not having no fear at all, but facing things firmly even when you are afraid." Anser patted him and continued treating the next person.
The guard stood there blankly. No one had ever said something like that to him before.
The Lay on Hands pool of a level-three Paladin only had fifteen points of energy, but it was more than enough to treat three ordinary guards.
After finishing all this, Anser stood up and entered the courtyard, with Graham silently following behind him.
"Did you know about the Mind Flayer beforehand?"
"I did not."
"What is the relationship between the Iron Crown and the Iron Throne?"
"No relationship. Devin previously contacted and cooperated with the Iron Throne behind my back. There was also a strange organization called the Order of Blue Fire. I stopped all of it…"
"You're still in your prime. Have you considered starting another family?"
"We've never been able to conceive."
"Uh—" Anser paused for a moment, then comforted him. "Keep trying. Effort will bring results eventually."
"Hm? …Hm."
"You should put more effort into administrative matters. Remember to come to the Union tomorrow at eight for a meeting—we'll discuss future development plans." Anser waved his hand, decisively ending the awkward conversation and turned to leave.
Graham stared at his departing figure, his gaze hollow, remaining silent for a long time.
After leaving, Anser called Quentin over. "Lift the seal on the Iron Crown. Release all the personnel. Councillor Graham's duties remain unchanged. Also, tomorrow at eight we will hold an organizational meeting—everyone in the middle and upper levels must attend."
"Understood." Quentin's face showed delight, and his heart surged with excitement. Everything was developing in a good direction.
Anser mounted Nornoth and returned along the long street.
After sealing the Iron Crown yesterday, they had not discovered any other problems. The personnel were also fine, and combined with Graham's good reputation and abilities, he decided not to pursue the matter any further.
Moreover, Graham himself was a level-six elite Fighter, one of the backbone forces of the Union, and he was skilled in administrative affairs—indispensable.
He raised his head and looked toward the sky. There was no sign of the wyverns; they had probably withdrawn for the time being. It was just unclear whether those wyverns had recognized him.
The wind whistled as Iris swooshed over to his side.
She had watched everything from the edge the entire time, not worrying in the slightest.
"That alchemist has arrived…"
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