"Hold on," Ethemon said, walking alongside Astarion and interrupting him as he gave him a once-over. "You don't look like you're hurt at all. Does Gale know how to heal?"
"Who said anything about me being hurt?" Astarion asked, looking exceedingly proud. There might have been one or two tiny mishaps along the way, but they had ultimately finished the fight without a scratch.
"Huh? Didn't you just say you almost died back there?"
"Can you believe it?" Astarion said, his face a picture of disgust and accusation. "That wretch Gale actually had Lae'zel and me help him pluck harpy feathers! He said harpy bones can be used in medicine!" Even now, Astarion felt like vomiting just recalling that heavy stench.
"Ugh—I can't. Just thinking about it makes me feel like I'm dying." He clutched his chest as if about to faint.
"I'm not surprised in the least," Shadowheart rolled her eyes. "So where is the Tiefling child?"
"Sent back. Not long after our battle ended, the little Tiefling's companion came looking for him." As if remembering something amusing, Astarion pulled a long-faded brass ring from his pocket. "See this?"
The tiny ring danced across those slender fingers. The eye followed the ring from his left hand to his right, and in the blink of an hour, both hands traced a circle in the air, and the ring vanished.
"Uh-huh, a magic trick?" Ethemon asked, uncomprehending.
"It's called the Hama flower pass," Astarion said with dissatisfaction, before flashing a proud, radiant smile. "You have no idea—when that little group of Tieflings reunited with their companion, they didn't even leave. One of them, named Mirkon, said he wanted to perform a trick to thank us, and he used this exact routine. Yet his little friend actually tried to swipe our bags while I was distracted!"
Oh, wow. Those little Tieflings really were... something else. Though it wasn't hard to understand. Life was hard enough for the Tieflings just trying to survive; where would adults find the time to properly raise children? It was no surprise a bunch of youngsters went astray.
"So, as a master of parlor tricks, you naturally used your refined methods to prank the child right back?" Shadowheart said. Hearing Astarion's confirmation, she sneered, "Astarion, you really are petty enough to compete with a child." With that, she walked straight ahead—she could already see the tents.
"What's wrong with that? I even praised the little thief, she actually has quite a talent~" Seeing Shadowheart ignore him, Astarion muttered discontented complaints under his breath.
"You lot certainly lead eventful lives," Ethemon chuckled. "Did you get everything ready?"
"Uh-huh. And we happened to run into a Tiefling blacksmith who has quite a few decently crafted weapons. Gale sent over some of the gear that got broken earlier to be repaired, and bought some new ones, too. Lae'zel put up the tents—though I helped, of course. Besides that, Gale has already sorted out everything we all need according to count. He's honestly super sweet, though way too soft-hearted. I just told that crying little Tiefling brat that harpies love to eat delicious Tiefling children, and he actually glared at me..."
"Er, Astarion, what I want to ask is: is dinner ready? I'm genuinely starving."
Glancing at the setting sun, Astarion finally snapped back to reality. "Oh, of course. Gale's been fussing over it for ages. You're in for a treat."
When Ethemon and Astarion returned to the camp, the entire atmosphere was rather tense. Everyone was holding weapons, staring with stern expressions at the figure standing opposite them—a mummy.
By the Father Above! Why did this creature from the crypt have to follow them here?!
Ethemon's face darkened as he strode to the front of the group, a faint surge of murderous intent rising in his heart.
"As prophesied, we meet again."
Prophecy my foot. You're just talking to yourself.
"I shall dwell within your camp, and offer you my aid."
No, wait, are you actually trying to freeload off us now?!
A vein throbbing at his temple, Ethemon gritted his teeth and asked, "No offense, but what on earth are you?"
"There are many answers to that question, but none of them matter."
"Can you stop following us?"
"I am afraid not."
Damn it. Fine.
He drew his dagger backhanded, and amid the gasps of the others, he and Lae'zel lunged together and slashed right at the creature's neck. Robbed of its support, the withered head hung in the air as if it had been snapped off by sheer force.
Yet the mummy simply stood there, stiff and straight.
The others froze as if someone had hit the pause button, all watching to see how the mummy would react. The next second, like a spring being released, *snap*—the head popped right back into place.
"What the absolute f—!"
Ethemon wanted to take another stab at it, but Gale hurried over to stop him. "Don't, don't, there's something a bit off about this thing. Let's eat first, dinner's getting cold, we can talk after we've eaten!"
Fuming, the party leader took the bowl Gale handed him and took a large bite out of a thoroughly stewed rib. *Mmm, tastes better than roasted dwarf.* Wait, why on earth did he just think of roasted dwarf?
Ethemon frowned in confusion. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the mummy leafing through a book it had produced from nowhere, and a fresh wave of stifled rage washed over him. He lowered his head, choosing out of sight, out of mind.
"Who pissed him off? Why does he look so furious the moment he gets back?" Astarion asked Shadowheart quietly. Their leader had been strong-willed and cool-headed (except during fights) ever since they met; that look of wanting to bludgeon a mummy to death was truly a rare sight.
"Probably because he just got shut down by too many people and is in a bad mood," Shadowheart sighed helplessly, recounting what had happened back with Kahga.
"Ah, I get it. Tantrum because he got interrupted," Astarion summarized.
Gale offered a helpless smile, though he latched onto the crucial point in Shadowheart's words. "So, the mind flayer tadpole has mutated? We're still going to turn in a few days?"
"That's probably something only the druid named Halsin would know," Ethemon shook his head.
"Oh gods, don't tell me we actually have to go to the Goblin Camp. Just thinking about those stinking, nauseating things makes me want to gag—help me, that's practically more terrifying than harpies."
"Astarion, some very bad news," Shadowheart offered a fake smile. "According to Nettie, if we want to get back to Baldur's Gate, we have to pass right through that goblin-occupied temple. Now telling me harpies aren't so terrifying after all, are you?"
"Tell me this isn't real." Astarion turned his head to look at Ethemon in utter despair.
"Er, I'll go ask Zevlor for a map when I see him later, see if there are any other routes we can take. Though naturally, they'd have picked the most suitable path for their migration..."
"Oh, no!" Astarion let out a theatrical, melodramatic wail and retreated to his tent, completely heartbroken. "Don't call me for any activities later. I'm going to meditate and soothe my tortured soul."
"Fine—then, good night?" Though half-elves and elves only needed four hours of meditation to recover a full day's energy, he had no idea why Astarion was turning in so early. Still, it was understandable; their experiences today had certainly been nothing if not dramatic.
"Well then, is anyone coming out with me, or is everyone turning in?" Ethemon retrieved his small money pouch. After trading spoils and buying and selling so many things, he surprisingly had quite a bit left over; he wanted to go see what else was on offer.
"I'm going to sort and distribute the potions Nettie gave us, so I'll pass. You," Shadowheart pointed vaguely at Ethemon with a warning, "don't come back covered in injuries again."
"I need to find Zevlor. Even if the mind flayer tadpole isn't going to transform us immediately, I cannot tolerate having a worm in my brain. That missing druid may indeed be exceptionally gifted and deeply knowledgeable about mind flayer tadpoles, but only a Githyanki 'Zai'khek' (Githy) can truly purge a mind flayer tadpole." Lae'zel wiped her weapon clean and slung it back over her shoulder.
Gale fished out the small notebook and quill he had bought from the Tieflings. "I'm staying put, too. I have some new ideas regarding our guest, and I'm going to go have a chat with him. Oh, right, the two of you remember to wash the dishes when you get back; you ate the most today."
The two of them, having polished off three bowls each: ......
Exchanging a glance, the pair turned and walked back toward the Tiefling settlement. As for washing the dishes? They'd deal with that when they got back. When they got back.
＊
Ethemon had to rely on Lae'zel to find the cave where Zevlor was stationed, given that the Tieflings in the Grove were far too numerous, with various stalls and tents crammed together in utter chaos.
Zevlor and his lieutenants received Ethemon and Lae'zel. Upon learning that Kahga still refused to budge, they could only sigh with helpless resignation.
Hearing that Ethemon needed a map, Zevlor pulled one out from his belongings and handed it to it him.
Baldur's Gate, being a landmark city, was specially marked. To the direct east of the city, Zevlor had marked a triangle—their current location. Counting rest stops, even without a single unexpected delay, that long road would take half a month of travel.
And that was assuming they walked in a straight line without a single detour. Bypassing no detours meant passing directly through the Goblin Camp.
It seemed that Archdruid had to be found after all; otherwise, they would either have to track down Lae'zel's people before the transformation took hold, or mutate right out on the road.
Bidding farewell to Zevlor, Ethemon let himself be guided to the rest area used by Aladdin and his crew. To his surprise, Aladdin and his squad had already packed their bags, preparing to slip away by nightfall. The area around them was dead quiet, making them look completely ostracized.
The moment Aladdin spotted Ethemon, his expression turned sharp and his tone carried a mocking edge. "Well, look who it is. The fearless goblin slayer. What brings you to my neck of the woods? Being seen hanging out with me isn't going to win you any favors right now."
"Are you planning to run away?" Lae'zel asked with a hint of disdain.
"Ha, what, you expect me to stay and flee alongside this lot of Tieflings? I'll consider myself lucky if they don't stab us in the back," Aladdin retorted without a shred of fear. "So, what do you want? Don't even have the freedom to leave this place now?"
"Don't misunderstand." Ethemon patted Lae'zel's shoulder to signal her to stay calm, then smiled. "I actually just wanted to know a bit more about Master Halsin."
"I've got nothing to say. We went looking for the Sacred Idol, Halsin's eyes lit up the second he heard about it, and he joined us. Who'd have thought he'd get captured by goblins on the way back? Right now, he's probably either cleaning out latrines or ending up in a stewpot. Anything else? If not, move aside."
Aladdin gave Ethemon a harsh shove... but failed to budge him an inch. Instead, Ethemon grabbed him tightly by the wrist. "What the hell do you think you're doing?! Let go!"
Had he been acting too easygoing lately? Why did everyone feel bold enough to give him attitude?
With a gentle smile, Ethemon applied more and more pressure. Aladdin's two companions tried to step in and help, but Lae'zel's greatsword stopped right at Aladdin's neck, freezing them in their tracks.
"Pardon me," Ethemon sneered, looking at Aladdin, who was breaking out in cold sweat from the pain and struggling helplessly against his grip. "I'm afraid you won't be leaving just yet."