"Damn it, what the hell do you want?!" Aladdin's expression was unusually ugly, not only because a sharp weapon was now being held against his throat, but even more so because he couldn't even call for help. Leaving aside the fact that they were already living far away due to conflicts with the Tieflings, even if anyone nearby saw them, they wouldn't come to their aid—they had long since been ostracized.
"Seriously, ever since I woke up, I feel like my temper has been good enough, but you lot shouldn't take advantage of someone's good nature to be so disrespectful. I'm getting a little mad," Ethemon said with a straight face. "Lae'zel, how do you think we should handle this?"
"Kill." In coordination with the words, the greatsword pressed even closer to the skin, and a searing heat accompanied by pain appeared on Aladdin's neck, causing him to instantly frown deeply, while the two companions behind him were filled with extreme tension.
...Ethemon, who had almost failed to keep up with the conversation, fell speechless for a brief moment. "Peace, we want peace, don't cause trouble for the Tiefling leader." Ethemon tilted his head; in truth, he hadn't figured out how to deal with this fellow either. Killing them after they left the Grove wasn't out of the question, but it was such a hassle—he really didn't want to get into another fight today.
"Well, Aladdin the adventurer, what do you suggest I do? How about leaving all your gear behind? Then I'll let you go."
"Are you dreaming? Without our gear, how are we supposed to make it to Baldur's Gate on this road!"
Tch, this argument is giving me a headache. Should I just finish them off?
"Treasure!" Seeing the murderous intent in Ethemon's eyes growing stronger, Aladdin's companion hurriedly spoke up. "We'll trade information about a treasure!"
Hmm? Now that's a bit interesting.
"What treasure?"
"The Nightsong. It's a holy relic, and an archmage in Baldur's Gate is willing to pay a huge sum for it. We got word that the thing is hidden beneath the very temple where the goblins ambushed us!"
"Unfortunately, though, the map is in the hands of my other companion, Brian. He was captured by the goblins and is probably dead by now." Aladdin wore a look of disdain, only for Ethemon to punch him squarely in the face the next moment, knocking him out cold on the spot.
"I honestly wanted to punch you right at the front gate," Ethemon flicked his hand away with an expression of disgust. "When your teammate is desperately trying to save you, could you please stay quiet?"
Ethemon grabbed Aladdin—who had entered an infant-like sleep—by the collar and tossed him to his companion, asking with a smile, "So, regarding this Nightsong, is there any other information?"
The woman hesitated for a moment, but still shook her head. "We only have a map leading to the destination."
"A map that isn't even in your hands, of unknown authenticity, and you expect to trade it for the life of this rude human? What a fine bargain," Lae'zel sneered.
The woman knew well that the bargaining chip she offered was insufficient, but their gear was their ultimate reliance for getting home; she truly could not afford to part with it.
Ethemon considered the matter, ultimately deciding against making a big scene. "Fine, let's treat this punch as a lesson learned by Aladdin. The quest contract issued by that mage should at least be on you, right?"
"It is, it is." The woman quickly retrieved a piece of parchment from her bag and handed it to Ethemon.
"Then that settles it. Don't rush off either; traveling through the dark of night isn't something you want to do unless you're eager to run into Gnolls. Take your leader and go get some rest." Feeling a bit bored, Ethemon waved a hand and turned to walk away.
"You should have killed him," Lae'zel said with some displeasure. "These wretches are like deceitful, slithering insects, so utterly foul. Everything here is."
"Don't be so harsh, Lae'zel," Ethemon chuckled. "If you think all of this is foul, then where is the holy land in your heart?"
Lae'zel fell silent for a moment, raising her head to gaze up at the starry sky, her smile soft and devout. "The tear behind the moon—that is the place every Githyanki yearns for."
"A tear?" Is this some kind of bizarre Githy description? It should be in Common, right?
"The tear is right behind the moon, countless massive rocks tumbling through the sea of stars. One of them is our creche: the Astral Plane."
Ah, he understood this; Tutor Gale's little common-knowledge lectures had covered it. The entire world was divided into three great material planes: the Material Plane, the Inner Planes, and the Outer Planes. The Material Plane was the universe where they currently resided, while the archdevils and deities dwelt in other planes.
And the plane sandwiched right between the Material Plane and the Outer Planes was the Astral Plane, where time did not flow. In a sense, any creature dwelling within it achieved immortality.
However, it seemed that you Githyanki were notorious pirates within the Astral Plane; there really was no need to be quite so proud of that.
"It was there that I beheld centurion Kith'rak, riding a red dragon, cutting the throats of brothers and sisters at the creche officer's command."
Pardon me, I almost forgot that you Githyanki practice survival of the fittest, adhering to an educational system of pitting venomous insects against one another. You and we are not the same.
"In any case, I firmly believe that going to the creche to find the commander is the only way to remove the Mind Flayer Tadpole..." The female warrior, harboring a blind adoration and trust toward her own race, prattled on endlessly about her domestic affairs.
Ethemon nodded along as he listened, acting as a sounding board, and failed to notice the Tiefling on his right until, by the time he realized, the two of them had already collided. Fortunately, there was not a shred of murderous intent, failing to trigger Ethemon's conditioned reflexes.
"Oh, sorry, sorry, are you alright?" It was a very young Tiefling lad whose red tail, out of nervousness, had quietly coiled around his calf as he looked at Ethemon with concern.
"I'm fine," Ethemon waved a hand, watching as the youth gripped his longsword in an entirely incorrect manner, leaving only a few superficial scratches at non-fatal points on the straw dummy before him. "Are you... practicing combat skills?"
"Yes," he said, looking somewhat shy. "The wilderness is full of cold-blooded goblins everywhere, and we're going to be driven out soon enough, so we have to prepare for a fight. But clearly, I'm really not good with a sword."
"You're holding the sword completely wrong. And spread your feet wider apart, otherwise you'll lose your balance and fall."
Following Ethemon's guidance, the youth successfully hacked several deep gouges into the straw dummy, and he looked delighted. "Thank you for the guidance! That was a huge help."
"Speaking of which," Ethemon picked up a sword left to the side and spun it through an impressive series of forms, drawing a look of worship from the youth, "is there someone named Zevlor among you people? I have some things I'd like to ask him."
Lae'zel's eyebrows arched, and most of her initial impatient expression vanished.
"You're looking for Zevlor?" Completely oblivious, the youth instantly sold out his clansman. "He should be over by the prison..." His expression grew somewhat dejected. "He and Gann were good friends. Right now, he's probably off settling scores with those goblins."
"What happened to Gann?" Ethemon asked with a concerned expression.
"In today's battle, Gann was shot through the heart and passed away." The youth sighed. "His sister must be heartbroken."
Ethemon nodded. He had actually thought that this battle had resulted in no casualties; it seemed that the shouting he'd heard earlier, which had interrupted him and Zevlor, must have belonged to Gann's sister.
Having obtained useful information and thanking the young man, Ethemon departed.
Lae'zel appeared quite excited; she had thought they would need to search for a while longer, but this had been obtained without any effort at all.
＊
When the two arrived outside the prison, the shouting and cursing from within were already quite loud. Exchanging a glance, they signaled for Lae'zel to pull her hood down a bit further and to ensure absolute silence thereafter.
Only after receiving confirmation did the two step inside.
"You don't dare shoot me at all, your hands are still shaking, you poor little thing!" Drifting over alongside the mocking tone was the stench of goblins who hadn't bathed in months, making one's vision practically go dark.
"Put down your weapon, Alka, she can't even fight back anymore." The male Tiefling was desperately pulling on the arm of the girl in the middle, trying to persuade her.
"Let go! Menthos, I'm going to kill her and get my revenge!"
"But you know in your heart that she isn't the one who killed your brother. Don't do this, Alka; you're not that cruel of a person."
Alka's hands were indeed trembling. Before the flight, she had been nothing more than an ordinary vendor, running a small shop alongside her younger brother for mutual support. Though life had been hard-pressed, it had been happy. But now, because of these goblins, everything was ruined!
Yet she had never killed anyone before. Impelled purely by rage, grabbing a weapon, storming into the prison, and standing before this goblin had already exhausted her courage. And now...
"Ha, pitiful Tiefling, are you going to avenge your brother? What a pity that you're a cowardly, spineless wretch—you don't dare do it at all! The Absolute protects her devout believers. For the glory of the Absolute, my tribe will soon storm this pretty little place and raze it to the ground, and you—you will be gutted by my own hands and sent off to meet your pathetic, short-lived brother! Hahahahaha!"
Alka was completely enraged; Ethemon could practically feel the boiling blood surging beneath her skin. She forcefully wrenched herself free from her companion's restraint, raised her crossbow, and aimed it straight at the foul-mouthed goblin!
Ethemon had originally intended simply to watch the spectacle from the back alongside Lae'zel, but the moment those words—"the Absolute"—reached his ears, his brain felt as though it were about to shatter instantly, and an image flashed into his mind.
It looked like a luxurious noble's chamber, with soft carpets spread across the floor and countless lit candles illuminating the spacious room. The intricate and elaborate wallpaper was dizzying, and the golden ornaments were garish in their abundance. He himself seemed to be gazing out at the scenery beyond the terrace when someone approached from behind—a person whose face he could not clearly see—and handed him a goblet of red wine. That person's thin lips parted and closed with a smile.
"Care for a drink, my friend, to our impending victory?"
He probably smiled back, taking the goblet.
"I prefer the term accomplice, ***."
Ethemon pulled himself back from the memory; that name remained as blurry as if veiled by gauze. But right now, there was no time to dwell on it. Alka's arrow was about to be loosed. With a single bound, Ethemon rushed forward and shoved the girl aside, sending her arrow straying from its original trajectory to bury itself straight into the dirt!
The Absolute—this was definitely something tied to his memories; he could not let this goblin die here just like that!