"The alchemist living in the Wood of Sharp Teeth?" Anser's expression shifted slightly as he asked.
"Yes. This time he came on his own initiative and is waiting for you at the Union," Iris said, lifting her chin, somewhat surprised.
"How capable is he? Does he have any good stuff?" Anser stroked his chin, considering what he might trade for.
That section of green dragon tail had come from an adult green dragon. It was extremely rare and could not be measured purely by the value of its materials.
If it were simply sold for money, it would actually be quite a loss.
"I don't know about his ability, but he's definitely wealthy. He arrived more than ten years ago and has been pushing deeper and deeper into the forest. He's most likely here because of the city of Viheral." Iris crossed her arms over her chest, her tone certain.
"The city of Viheral?"
"That place is just a legend…"
The two talked as they walked.
The city of Viheral was a possible ruin of an ancient civilization. Some said it had been built by a clan of werewolves; others claimed it had once been a dwarven city; still others believed it was connected to a lich named Viheral…
Rumor held that the city of Viheral contained endless treasures. No one had ever seen them, but there were always adventurers unwilling to give up who ventured in search of it. Yet no one had ever heard of anyone finding anything valuable. Instead, quite a few had been buried forever in the Wood of Sharp Teeth.
The Wood of Sharp Teeth was vast—nearly three hundred kilometers from north to south, and even at its narrowest point it stretched more than a hundred kilometers from east to west. The place where the black dragon had fallen last time had been only a few kilometers from the forest's edge.
The deeper one went into the forest, the more dangerous it became—werewolves, Goblins, gargoyles, shadow creatures, undead, dragons…
"Perhaps it's real." Anser was not a local, but he had read relevant records. This was not a legend, but history long buried.
"Hm?" Iris raised a finger and pointed at him in warning. "You're not allowed to go. There are several werewolf tribes in the Wood of Sharp Teeth. They call themselves the guardians of the ruins and specialize in hunting humans."
"They cooperate with the Iron Throne, exchanging deadly poison and hallucinogenic mushrooms for human supplies. They aren't just beasts—they're very troublesome."
The Iron Crown had sold this kind of poison and toxic weapons before, which was why she had inferred that Graham had some connection with the Iron Throne.
"Why would I go there?" Anser shook his head slightly. Only a legendary—or even mythic—Artifact would be worth that risk.
While they spoke, the two arrived at the Union's headquarters. Five people wearing gray robes despite the sweltering heat were standing at the entrance waiting for them.
Iris walked straight into the hall without even greeting them, clearly not very fond of them.
"Please, come in." Anser dismounted and extended a hand in invitation, the smile on his face warm and approachable.
"Mm." The frail man at the front removed his hood, revealing a bald head. His skin was so pale it looked like a corpse's.
Anser's movement paused for a moment, and a flash of platinum light passed through his eyes. Detect Evil and Good activated, and several dim shadows entered his perception.
Not undead.
"Hmph." The bald man let out a cold snort and lifted his foot to walk, but a trace of struggle appeared in his eyes. Then he forcibly changed where his step fell and strode into the hall in a few quick steps.
The gray-robed people behind him seemed to have expected this already. They followed him inside at once, removing their hoods as well and revealing comparatively normal appearances.
"My apologies." Anser had not expected the bald man to be so perceptive, and quickly expressed his apology. "Durlag's Tower hasn't been very peaceful lately, so it's better to be cautious."
He invited the group to sit down and signaled for the staff to prepare tea. This was the official reception hall, so it had at least that much in the way of amenities.
"You may call me Sosk." The bald man's expression remained blank, and his voice was dry and hoarse, as though his vocal cords had long since rusted.
"My name is Anser. May I ask where Mr. Sosk comes from?" Anser probed.
Sosk's gray-blue eyes turned toward Anser. After a brief silence, he said, "Thay, a very distant place."
"I've heard of it—the famous empire of magic, east of the Sea of Fallen Stars." Anser looked Sosk up and down. "Mr. Sosk doesn't seem quite like the Red Wizards I've heard about."
Thay had a rigid hierarchy. Its ruling class was the Red Wizards, also called the Red Wizard order, and Wizards held the highest status of all. Their signature traits were bald heads, tattoos, and red robes.
Below the Wizards were certain Mulan bureaucrats, priests, and the like, while a vast number of slaves occupied the very bottom.
A Thayan Wizard traveling from the eastern reaches of that desperate land, three or four thousand kilometers away, all the way to the Sword Coast, definitely had some purpose in mind.
"You know quite a lot." Sosk paid no mind to Anser's scrutiny. "I'm merely a wandering Wizard who never fit in with Thay. I've drifted abroad for decades and have long since forgotten what Thay used to look like."
Anser focused his mind on him. The die turned slightly and produced the target's information:
[Sosk, Human, Level 12 Wizard (School of Transmutation)]
'No idea how much spellcasting ability he still has left.'
Spellcasting ability should also affect one's alchemical skill, after all, since high-end alchemy could not do without magic.
"What do you need this time?" Anser was in no hurry either. Since the other party had come of his own accord, he must be asking for something.
"I heard the city has been plagued by aberrations. Those creatures are all extremely dangerous. How did you deal with them? Best not leave behind any hidden trouble."
"Deal with them?" Anser's eyes shifted. "Killed them, then burned them."
"What?" Sosk immediately felt a stab of heartache. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "All burned clean?"
"Quite clean indeed. However…" Anser suddenly paused.
"However what?" Sosk pressed.
Anser opened the Avaricious Dragonhide Pouch and took out a black box that emitted a chill. He forced it open, revealing four tentacles and most of a purple brain frozen inside ice.
Creatures like Intellect Devourers had indeed been burned. But Mind Flayers were not ordinary—materials from their bodies were certainly valuable. How could everything be burned? That would be far too wasteful.
"You just froze it like this?" Sosk's tone finally showed a trace of fluctuation. He reached out his hand, intending to take it, but stopped midway and pointed at the table instead. "Put it down. I'll take a look for you."
Anser placed the box down and stood up to leave. In his office, he teleported to Holrewen, put most of the green dragon materials into the Avaricious Dragonhide Pouch, and then returned to the reception hall.
He did not understand alchemy or potions. Any materials left in his hands would simply be wasted. It was more practical to exchange them for magic items that enhanced combat power.
"It still has some use. How much do you want to sell it for?" Seeing him return, Sosk asked.
"Take a look at this as well." Anser took out dragon meat, dragon sinew, and dragon hide, piling them on the floor. Cold mist spread through the air, and the temperature of the entire room dropped several degrees at once.
Sosk abruptly stood up. "You killed an adult green dragon? No, that's not right. Wasn't the rumor about a black dragon?"
"A section of a green dragon's tail," Anser said without concealing it. "There's quite a lot of meat. The rest is stored in the ice cellar."
Sosk crouched down and inspected them one by one. His tone carried displeasure. "Your handling methods are far too crude. This is the first time I've seen someone smoke dragon meat—truly outrageous. And this dragon hide—who told you to cut it like this? The skin and scales are a single structure…
"Freezing is actually good, but it has to be done immediately. You should quick-freeze it with magic. Throwing it into an ice cellar is far too lazy…"
His words came rapidly, completely different from before. His dry voice had neither rise nor rhythm, making it sound somewhat awkward.
Anser listened carefully. It might prove useful the next time he slaughtered a dragon.
"Where's the dragon blood?" Sosk asked, puzzled.
"Not much. I kept it for myself."
Sosk's eyes shifted, and he did not pursue the question further. "What do you want?"
Materials of this level were unlikely to be exchanged for money. One would either commission equipment or potions, or trade them for magic items of equivalent value.
"What do you have?" Anser truly did not know the value of these materials. At the very least, they could sell for tens of thousands of gold coins.
Materials from an adult dragon could not produce legendary-tier items, but the baseline should be Rare quality, and if the craftsmanship were high enough, Very Rare quality might also be possible.
Of course, alchemy alone could not accomplish that; it required cooperation with other crafts.
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