"What's that?" Iris asked, lightly nudging Anser with her shoulder.
"Eye of Vecna and Hand of Vecna..."
Snapping out of his thoughts, Anser explained the two Artifacts' abilities to her before recounting everything that had happened inside the dungeon.
Iris's eyes widened in shock.
"So... you walked away with two Artifacts and two Legendary items in one go?"
"How can you call it stealing?" Anser spread his hands innocently. "I was rescuing people. I just happened to confiscate a few obviously evil items so they couldn't harm anyone else."
"All right." Iris folded her arms, the concern in her starlike eyes growing more apparent. "So what are you planning to do with them?"
"I'll sound things out at the Magic Research Society first. If the opportunity comes up, I'll trade them for something I can actually use and maybe recruit a few allies while I'm at it. Then, in a few days, I'll head over to Traveler's Rest. There'll be no shortage of buyers for items like these."
Wizards tended to be practical above all else and generally cared little about good or evil. These items suited them perfectly.
"Trading them away is for the best. Just don't use them yourself," Iris said, still visibly uneasy.
"My path ahead is smooth enough already. There's no reason to take unnecessary risks." Anser wrapped an arm around her waist as he idly played with a lock of her hair.
"Mhm. I'm worried that the Thayan lich won't just let this go." Iris frowned slightly.
She had heard plenty about Thay's reputation. They caused trouble even when nothing was happening, so if someone actually provoked them, they would never let it slide.
"He wouldn't dare come alone," Anser replied calmly.
Durlag was no longer what it had once been.
There was its current President, Anser; former President Stoll; Iris of Fort Jacqueline; the Chosen Brunhilde; and a large number of elite adventurers.
Now that he had mastered Teleport, he could bring Delira and Valera, the drow sisters; Tyr's paladins Rand and Zahir; the halfling Osborn; the Chosen Evan; and many other allies to Durlag within minutes.
And that wasn't even counting the adventurers or the members of the Magic Research Society.
If the lich dared to come, they'd beat him into dust and send him into another lengthy resurrection cycle.
If the Chosen happened to possess some hidden trump card, the lich might even be killed for good.
Besides, Thay was extremely far from the Sword Coast. Numerous powers lay between them, making any large-scale invasion impossible.
Meanwhile, Durlag's defense force had continued expanding and now numbered over a thousand soldiers, many of them professional adventurers. Even a small-scale war was well within their capabilities.
Anser was no longer a lone wolf. As long as the enemy did even a little homework, there was no way they would underestimate him.
Just then, he suddenly sensed a faint ripple of magic coming from Durlag's Tower.
Moments later, it disappeared.
[The Thayan lich casts Scrying on you. You are protected against divination magic. The Scrying spell fails.]
Talk about perfect timing.
He wasn't worried in the slightest.
Scrying was powerful, but it was useless against him.
Even outside the tower, a single Dispel Magic would deal with it effortlessly.
That was one of the perks of having such a wide spell repertoire.
"As long as you know what you're doing. And don't tell Aunt about the Artifacts," Iris said, rubbing her temples. Lately, it felt as though one headache followed another.
"Why not? She'll definitely ask."
"Because she's the type who overthinks everything. She looks carefree on the surface, but there are plenty of things she just can't let go."
"I noticed."
Brunhilde was highly intelligent, but she lacked wisdom.
To put it bluntly... she was still a little foolish.
It wasn't a flattering way to put it, but it was true.
Most people couldn't tell the difference between foolish, dense, silly, obsessive, dim-witted, and obtuse.
They simply judged whether someone was smart or stupid in the broadest, most superficial sense.
Being foolish meant acting blindly—charging ahead recklessly without thinking.
It was the kind of mistake born from a flawed way of thinking.
Being dense described someone whose mind was like a blank sheet of paper—overly innocent, inexperienced in the ways of the world, lacking any real life experience, and slow at everything they did.
Being silly referred to an innate intellectual deficiency—someone incapable of thinking things through.
Being obsessive meant becoming so fixated on something that one lost all awareness, such as being hopelessly lovestruck.
Being dim-witted described someone who was dull in both action and reaction, sluggish to respond.
Being obtuse meant being stubborn to a fault—pigheaded, inflexible, and incapable of seeing reason.
Of them all, foolishness was the most dangerous.
Many foolish people weren't lacking in intelligence at all, yet somehow everything they did gave everyone else a headache.
Brunhilde probably didn't qualify as truly foolish, and she certainly wasn't a bad person. When things had turned dangerous, she'd even urged him to run for his life.
But she simply wasn't the easiest person to like.
Compared to her, Iris was far better.
She knew where to draw the line, worked in perfect sync with him, and was both intelligent and gracious.
After chatting for a few more minutes, Iris went off to arrange the guard rotations while activating the castle's detection array.
Anser headed alone to the island's cemetery.
Calling it a cemetery was generous.
It was nothing more than a recently leveled hillside enclosed by a wooden fence, with only his predecessor's parents buried there.
Bratt had been thoughtful enough to assign workers to build a wooden cabin, and the foundation had already been laid.
Perhaps, in time, this place would grow into a real cemetery.
He strolled inside, took out the coffin, tossed it onto the ground, and infused it with magic.
The soil softened.
The coffin slowly sank beneath the earth.
The ground trembled for quite some time before a blank black tombstone slowly rose from the soil, thick and imposing.
'Definitely has that creepy aesthetic.'
Anser patted the tombstone.
Seeing that his own name wasn't carved on it, he let out a quiet sigh of relief.
He drew his shield and sword before walking straight into the tombstone.
Ripples spread across its surface like water, and the next instant he found himself inside a circular burial chamber.
It wasn't particularly large—just over a hundred square meters.
To his disappointment, however, aside from the dried skeleton, the room contained nothing of value.
Only the magic circle engraved into the floor stood out.
'Was this place already cleaned out?'
In one corner was a staircase leading downward.
He descended the stone steps, his boots echoing with rhythmic taps.
As his gaze lowered, rows upon rows of bookshelves came into view.
His eyebrows rose.
Taking several quick strides onto the second underground level, he confirmed there were no enemies before putting away his sword to avoid accidentally damaging the shelves.
This was clearly a library.
Bookshelves four or five meters tall stretched all the way to the ceiling.
Dozens of shelves were packed together, separated only by narrow aisles, giving the place a cramped, oppressive atmosphere.
After walking several meters farther, he reached a small open space containing a writing desk.
Draft papers were scattered haphazardly across its surface.
Anser glanced over them.
They appeared to be drafts for some kind of necromancy spell model.
'A total shut-in, huh? Wake up, read books, get tired, sleep, and with a lifespan that long... just thinking about it sounds... boring.'
He couldn't understand that kind of lifestyle.
Even so, he was delighted.
The collection here was enormous, and every volume had been perfectly preserved.
It was nothing less than a treasure trove.
'If I traded the knowledge here with the Magic Research Society, that would be an incredible deal.'
Smiling to himself, he decided to have someone properly catalog everything when he found the time.
But that would have to wait until after attunement.
He still hadn't attuned to the Silent Mausoleum.
Although he could enter it freely, he couldn't yet use any of its magical properties, leaving loopholes others might exploit.
'I wonder if its age-stopping effect works on other people too.'
There was probably only one way to find out.
Continuing down the stairs, he reached the third underground level.
This floor was fully furnished and appeared to be living quarters.
Yet there were remarkably few signs that anyone had actually lived there.
Everything looked practically brand new.
Returning to the stairwell, he found the passage leading farther down sealed by a translucent magical barrier.
It could only be opened after attunement.
He crouched down and tilted his head, peering through the barrier.
Below, he could vaguely make out countless silent figures standing in the darkness, one shadow overlapping another.
'Hiss... Don't tell me they're undead?'
Anser narrowed his eyes, his gaze turning deep and intent.
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