'Something's not right!'
Anser's mind raced, and he quickly spotted numerous inconsistencies.
First of all, the timeline didn't add up.
The two of them had only met yesterday afternoon. Even if the drow matron had tried to resurrect the drider yesterday, she would have only learned his little secret then. There was no way she could have had the time—or the spell slots—to resurrect his parents.
A cleric's primary attribute was Wisdom, and their spellcasting relied heavily on their deity. Divinity formed a stable bridge between a Chosen and their god, which was why Chosen could cast spells despite the turmoil in the Weave.
This method was essentially the same as spell-slot casting. He had already confirmed that with Jiandar and Valera.
In other words, an 18th-level drow matron could most likely cast only one 8th-level spell and one 9th-level spell per day.
And most clerics wouldn't prepare True Resurrection in the first place. There was usually no need. Anyone who had died within the last two hundred years could be brought back, even if their body no longer existed.
The drow matron yesterday most likely hadn't prepared True Resurrection. She may have only learned in the early hours of this morning that the drider could not be revived.
'Then she definitely didn't have the spell slot to resurrect the original owner's parents!'
Reviving them in advance made even less sense.
True Resurrection was a 9th-level spell that required an extremely expensive diamond worth tens of thousands of gold pieces as a material component. It took an hour to cast and came at an enormous cost.
No one would waste it on two ordinary elderly people unless they were certain they would get something in return.
Anser had a bit of a reputation. It wasn't strange that the information networks of the drow had discovered him. But judging from his achievements, at most he appeared to be a powerful Sorcerer—not nearly important enough for a drow matron to value so highly.
Besides, Chosen had only appeared three or four days ago.
Others might not know the exact timing, but Anser did, because he had also obtained a fragment of divinity.
After becoming a Chosen, the drow matron had quickly sensed Eilistraee's Chosen. The two sides had immediately begun hunting each other, and the fighting over the past few days had been fierce, with heavy casualties.
Even the bladesinger Delira had nearly died.
They were sworn enemies. At such a critical moment, how could the drow matron possibly have the time or inclination to resurrect two ordinary people, much less waste her only 9th-level spell on them?
As for all that information about Anser, obtaining it wasn't difficult.
A 3rd-level Speak with Dead spell could reveal plenty of private information.
Besides his parents, the neighbors, childhood friends, and classmates who had died or been enslaved all knew quite a bit about the original owner.
Even more people knew him in Rivington and Silver Scale Bay. No intelligence organization worth its salt could possibly know nothing about him.
Of course, this was still only speculation. It needed further verification.
But even if the original owner's parents really had been resurrected, he would never accept coercion.
That would be idiotic.
With that thought, Anser had already decided on his next move.
He let out a soft chuckle.
"What exactly are you rambling about? Trying to threaten a Paladin into converting to Lolth? Don't you think that's ridiculous?"
Moranthis's expression remained unchanged. She brushed a hand through her slightly disheveled hair and curved her lips into a faint smile.
"You misunderstand me. I have never intended to shake your faith, nor do I believe anyone can coerce you."
"We are natural allies. You simply haven't realized it yet."
Anser was slightly surprised.
Then he realized this was actually the most troublesome possibility.
If he truly were the hidden Chosen of some evil god, then threats and coercion would never achieve anything.
"I don't think I need an alliance with anyone," he said calmly, his gaze fixed on Moranthis.
"Not necessarily. I know you need territory. Whatever the Jacqueline Family can offer you, I can give you ten times over. If you're willing, Baldur's Gate could bear the Holrewen name by tomorrow."
Her eyes were as tranquil as water, but the words she spoke struck like thunder.
Anser opened his mouth, intending to mock her, but the words never came out.
He didn't know the situation in Baldur's Gate. Perhaps Moranthis truly possessed that kind of influence and power.
"You think that highly of me?"
"Your potential exceeds your imagination."
"Thank you for the vote of confidence, but I think... now isn't the right time."
His answer was deliberately ambiguous.
"The future is on our side. Take some time to examine your own heart. You can contact me whenever you wish."
With those final words, her projection shattered like foam and vanished without a trace.
Anser immediately began searching. He even entered the Ethereal Plane to investigate, but he found no sign of the drow matron.
'She's... afraid of me?'
'Otherwise, there's no reason for her to be this cautious—sneaking around without ever showing her face.'
'Could she have... mistaken me for someone else? Could she think I'm connected to Bhaal?' He rubbed his chin, deep in thought.
As far as he knew, Bhaal was only half-restored. Most of his divine portfolio had been stolen by Cyric.
Even after Cyric descended into madness, Bhaal had remained inactive.
Of the original Dead Three, only Bane had made a strong return. Myrkul was still gathering strength, while Bhaal had fared the worst. But perhaps he was simply waiting for an opportunity.
'If that's the case, Moranthis would spare no expense.'
For example, she might pay an enormous price to resurrect the original owner's parents and turn her earlier words into reality.
'But not today!'
If Anser's guess was correct, the drow matron had already wasted her 9th-level spell slot today.
He spent a while pretending to search through the forest before casting Fly, slipping into the Ethereal Plane, and speeding toward Baldur's Gate.
Although movement in the Ethereal Plane was slower, his speed wasn't much worse than ordinary flight.
The mist-shrouded surroundings and limited visibility struggled to keep up with his flying speed, and more than once he worried he might crash into something strange.
Flying close to the ground, he followed the banks of the River Chionthar westward, so there was little chance of losing his way.
The scenery before his eyes shifted constantly, while countless thoughts churned through his mind.
'What if this is a trap? What if she predicted that I would predict her move?'
'If I find the original owner's parents' remains, how should I resurrect them? And after bringing them back, how am I supposed to face them...?'
'Are the people I killed really beyond resurrection? Wish should be able to do it, right?'
He had suspected for some time that experience points couldn't simply appear out of thin air. They were probably some form of rules-based feedback combined with resource acquisition.
'But it's definitely not evil!'
After all, he had previously encountered an Adventure Trait called Evil Corruption: Wicked Power. That one truly involved slaughter and soul-harvesting.
The dice wouldn't generate two mutually contradictory traits.
Therefore, battle experience absolutely could withstand scrutiny.
'The worst-case scenario is that they mistake me for Bhaal's Chosen. That's not too big of a problem.'
Two hours passed, and he had covered nearly half the journey.
Anser drank a potion of invisibility, returned to the Material Plane, and continued toward Baldur's Gate from an altitude of several thousand meters.
At that height, there were virtually no monsters or birds, and he didn't need to worry about anyone noticing the air currents created by his flight.
By the time he drank his second invisibility potion, he had already arrived above Baldur's Gate.
It was noon.
The blazing sun hung high overhead.
Looking down from above, the once prosperous and bustling trade city lay in ruins. Debris littered the streets, while all manner of strange Underdark creatures huddled in windows and shadows.
It resembled...
A silent demonic lair.
Most Underdark creatures disliked sunlight and were usually active at night, which made Baldur's Gate unusually quiet during the day.
It wasn't hard to imagine that nighttime was when the city truly became a carnival of monsters.
His gaze swept across the city until it settled on a two-story wooden building in the Sow's Foot district.
The front door was broken, and a weathered wooden sign hung crookedly above it.
He couldn't make out the words from this distance, but he already knew what was written there:
Sow's Foot Bakery.
He had written those words himself when he was in his teens. The handwriting was still somewhat immature, yet neat and elegant.
The original owner's father had been immensely proud of it.
He would praise his son to anyone who would listen, despite the fact that Anser had never earned a single coin for the family.
'Sigh...'
Cutting off the memory, he pulled out a telescope and observed the backyard.
The yard was a mess.
In one corner stood a shallow grave that had been hastily covered. Two damaged skeletons protruded from the earth, little more than bones now. The remains still bore clear marks where unknown creatures had gnawed on them.
He let out a sigh.
After comparing the scattered scraps of clothing and the bones, he was almost certain:
These were the original owner's parents.
His father's right middle finger had once been broken and had never healed properly. The evidence was unmistakable.
'So she really was bluffing me.'
Given the nature of the drow, a strategic spell like True Resurrection would undoubtedly be reserved for negotiations or used to revive powerful subordinates killed during the invasion.
He carefully inspected the surrounding area but found no signs of an ambush.
He then used Augury.
The result was neither good nor bad.
Quietly descending into the familiar yet unfamiliar yard, he carefully gathered the remains and packed them into his dragonhide pouch.
But he knew that True Resurrection could recreate a body from nothing.
As long as the target's soul remained intact and was willing to return, the remains weren't necessary.
He was doing this simply to send a message.
Do not disturb the dead.
He could come to Baldur's Gate whenever he wished, and any unwise actions would invite retaliation.
Historically, Bhaal's offspring had been even crazier than most people imagined.
If Moranthis truly recognized his potential, she would probably stop playing games.
Otherwise, the manner of your death would exceed your imagination as well.
After finishing, he didn't leave.
Instead, he entered the Ethereal Plane and followed the same route he had once used to escape, heading into the main city district.