"Enough!" the leading man let out a cold snort. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths before barely suppressing the surging anger within him.
A sense of desolation rose in his heart, and he could not help once again questioning the records in those old clan documents.
Did werewolves truly have a glorious past? What secret was hidden in the city of Viheral, which they had guarded for generations? Was any of this really worth it...?
The werewolf tribe had long since ceased to be what it once was. Fewer and fewer werewolves were born through bloodline reproduction. Most werewolves now were humans infected by the curse, with little sense of identity.
If not for the fact that this portion of werewolves found it difficult to restrain their urge to transform and their bloodthirsty desires, they would never have stayed here.
And now, even Malar, the god of the hunt, had abandoned them. The werewolf tribe had already reached a point where, if it did not change, it would die.
"The werewolf tribe has guarded this place for many, many years, so long that everyone has forgotten the original purpose," the man said flatly. "It has been long enough. Now we must live for ourselves."
"Tieflings and dragonborn can live openly under the sun, so why can't werewolves?"
"The people of Amn cannot be trusted, but we need to use them to keep the humans in check. This is an excellent opportunity."
"Take Durlag's Tower and rename it Wolf City. This will be the land of the werewolves' revival."
"Revival, revival..." one werewolf shouted loudly, and the others all echoed him. Their eyes flickered, and their expressions varied.
"Very good." The man pressed both hands downward, then spoke only after everyone had quieted down. "After this meal, everyone will act according to the plan. Split into ten groups, infiltrate Durlag's Tower, and lie low in secret."
"Remember, keep your subordinates under control. Do not go out into the streets lightly. Act on orders. Success or failure will be decided in this one move."
"Yes, Clan Leader..." The response was not especially uniform, but it was still firm and resounding enough.
The man nodded in satisfaction, finally feeling somewhat reassured.
This was a huge gamble, but he had no way out. Under the law of the jungle, it was either you died or they did; there was no such thing as stopping at the point of restraint.
...
As the sky gradually darkened, the dining hall of Fort Jacqueline was brightly lit.
Today's meal was very lavish, with all kinds of meat dishes making up the majority. Judging by their appearance, the cooks had indeed put a great deal of care into them.
"Knowing you have a big appetite, all of this was prepared for you." Iris's grandmother wore a smile all over her face as she looked at Anser with loving affection.
"Thank you, Grandma." Anser forced out a faint smile, sitting there uneasily, already somewhat regretting coming to Fort Jacqueline for dinner.
Grandma's enthusiasm was a little hard for him to handle. The meaning behind it was far too obvious; even a fool could see it.
At the side, Iris ignored him and simply ate and drank by herself. Before long, she had already drunk three glasses of wine.
Anser was helpless, so he could only dig in and eat. Marrying into the family was out of the question, but food still had to be eaten.
Perhaps sensing that the atmosphere was somewhat stifling, Grandma began talking about some things from Iris's childhood, which even made Iris lose her composure. Several times she interrupted Grandma, but she could not interrupt Grandma's enthusiasm for pouring her heart out.
This dinner with its strange atmosphere soon came to an end. Anser and Iris exchanged a glance, then rose and left in unspoken accord.
After going upstairs, he had still wanted to stop Iris and speak plainly with her, but unexpectedly, she went straight back to her room, leaving him with a look whose meaning was hard to read.
'What is that supposed to mean?' He could not quite make sense of it.
After returning to his room, he immediately teleported to Holrewen and silently appeared on the top floor of the black tower.
Walking to the wall, he waved a hand. The black stone wall turned transparent, and the island below came into view.
That village had already begun to take shape. Dozens of tents were scattered along the riverbank, and not far away there was also a small patch of reclaimed farmland, though it was unclear whether it had been sown yet.
The stone-paved plaza beneath the black tower had also been repaired with a road laid through it. The other areas were heavily damaged; they had only been cleared and leveled a bit so that walking would not be affected.
'It changes every day.' Anser sighed.
Holrewen had only a little over a hundred people, but there were more than three hundred Kobolds. Every day they worked under the treant's direction, and the efficiency was quite good. They only needed to be fed, were not picky about food, and were practically perfect slaves.
According to Bratt's plan, he wanted to reclaim two hundred acres of land before the end of August. These were Faerûn acres, which converted to about 0.8 square kilometers.
The difficulty was quite high, after all there were no large machines. Fortunately, there were treants and classed individuals to help, so at least moving large stones or trees would not be too strenuous.
The temperature here remained between twenty and thirty degrees all year round. The soil was fertile, and there were no natural disasters, so sowing could be done at any time. If the reclamation and planting could be completed smoothly, those two hundred acres could conservatively produce more than a hundred tons of grain.
This process only required three or four months, and there were roughly three harvests a year. Just by reselling grain, he could grow rich.
If there were hybrid seeds and chemical fertilizers to increase the yield, it would be almost unimaginable.
'If only I could recruit a group of druids to farm for me…'
However, druids seemed to prefer planting trees.
'Such astonishing wealth can be produced from a small island like this. No wonder the people of Amn seize territory everywhere.'
After sighing once, he picked up a bottle of clean water and began producing blessed holy water.
After making several bottles in succession, he found it rather tedious, so he teleported back to his room in Fort Jacqueline.
As soon as he entered, he smelled a faint fragrance. It seemed like the scent of some kind of flower, yet also like body fragrance, lingering in his nose and refusing to disperse.
Turning around, he saw a figure leaning against the sofa with her side facing him. A thin layer of black gauze covered her body. The warm light of the wall lamp poured down, revealing a striking curve.
That high, proud arc made his body heat up involuntarily.
"Even if this is your castle, could you at least knock before coming in?" he said, pretending to sound normal.
"I did knock." Iris's voice was low as she turned and walked toward Anser, moving slowly, her steps soft, like a cat.
With each step, the fullness before her chest quivered slightly, bouncing gently. The black gauze drifted, and her fair body appeared and disappeared beneath it, making one's heart itch with the impulse to lift it and take a look.
It was as if she was wearing something, yet also as if she was not.
Anser's breathing grew heavier as he simply watched her approach and press herself against him.
A soft, elastic sensation came from his chest. The enchanting fragrance drilled into his nose, and waves of warm, moist breath brushed against his neck, making his blood surge.
"Heh, I thought there was nothing in your head but spells." Her magnetic voice was filled with provocation.
Anser felt a trace of irritation. He reached out, wrapped an arm around her waist, locking her in place, and pressed his body against hers. "Do you know what you're doing?"
She had already pushed things this far. If he still gave no response, it would be an insult to the boiling biological instinct in his draconic bloodline.
"Of course I—"
Before she could finish speaking, Anser lifted her horizontally in his arms and threw her onto the sofa. Then he tore off his clothes and pounced.
The scorching softness made his whole body tremble, and his hands could not help but climb over it.
Iris let out a soft hum and instinctively tried to push him away, but her strength was barely there.
With a ripping sound, the final layer of obstruction was torn apart.
Tonight's fire burned even fiercer than Fireball, until it completely swallowed the two of them…
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