Ethemon pulled a cucumber from his pack and began to crunch on it, having sent his Raven out ahead to scout the path.
The rest of the companions sat directly on the ground to take a short break. Gale, whose stamina was barely depleted, resumed his study of *The Book of Vile Darkness* that they had brought out from the crypt, his expression deeply serious.
Ethemon leaned over to take a peek, asking in confusion, "Can you still make out anything when the handwriting is blurred to this kind of state?"
"Of course," Gale pointed to a small sentence on the page, "it's just that the reader needs to be well-versed in that period of history, and combine it with previous records to guess and deduce what is recorded above." To put it bluntly, he had read enough books to understand it.
Feeling thoroughly shown up, Ethemon raised an eyebrow. "So what is it actually about? The Raven isn't back yet, so you might as well tell a story to pass the time."
"Mmm-hmm, I love a good story~" Astarion ambled over, and the rest of the companions also slowed their movements, turning their attention to this side.
Seeing that everyone was interested, Gale didn't keep them in suspense. "The book says that because the Dead Three—Bhaal, Bane, and Myrkul—conspired to steal the Tablets of Fate from Ao, the Overgod, it caused the gods to be cast down into the material plane. That is the famous Time of Troubles... Well, you just need to know that during that period, the gods were driven to the mortal realm to search for the Tablets of Fate."
"Understood."
"Some time after that, when the gods returned to their rightful places, their powers were greatly diminished, and news of them gradually faded away—with the Dead Three being specifically singled out. In truth, not much information remains, considering how many years have already passed."
"Then tell us about the Dead Three."
"It seems your brain really was scrambled," Gale said with some resignation, yet he complied with Ethemon's request anyway. "Bane, the Lord of Strife, responsible for sowing hatred and conflict; Myrkul, the Lord of Bones, who governs all things after death; and Bhaal, the Lord of Murder, who rules over the process of dying."
At this, Gale seemed to recall something, and he turned to look at Shadowheart and Astarion. "Speaking of which, you're both from Baldur's Gate. When I was previously in Waterdeep, I heard merchants talking about how Baldur's Gate hasn't been very peaceful lately, and that a lot of cultists worshipping them have appeared?"
Shadowheart frowned slightly, but answered nonetheless, "I've spent all these years secluded in the cloister, though I occasionally heard that the number of murders in the city has increased quite a bit."
Astarion merely waved a hand. "I never pay attention to such things."
Ethemon drifted off into his own thoughts. *Bhaal, the Lord of Murder...* The sound of flapping wings interrupted his musings as the Raven landed on his arm, relaying the sights it had seen from high above.
"Good news. That grove isn't too far from us. If we pick up the pace, we can make it before dark, and we won't have to camp out in the wild."
Hearing the news, everyone couldn't help breathing a sigh of relief.
They simply hadn't expected to witness a pitched battle right outside the grove.
Upon arrival, they had only heard frantic shouting in the distance. Having already built a certain tacit cooperation through previous encounters, the group quickly concealed themselves behind some boulders, and Ethemon poked his head out to look.
"Open this bloody door!" a man with chestnut-colored short hair yelled toward the lookout platform above the gate, his face a mask of anxiety.
"Zevlor gives the order: no one enters!" a Tiefling leaned out from above.
"Those goblins are going to be here any second!" The man saw more Tieflings gathering above, evidently spotting someone he recognized. "Zevlor! Open the gate! The goblins are right behind us!"
"You led the goblins here?! You piece of nine-hells-bound filth!" Zevlor's expression on the lookout platform shifted drastically. While ordering someone to hurry and open the gate, he looked around frantically as if searching for something. "Where is the Archdruid?"
"There's no time, open the gate!"
The heavy gates required multiple people turning the mechanisms together to open. Although several Tieflings were already straining with all their might, it was still too late.
An arrow whistled through the air, piercing straight into the heart of a guard. With one person lost from the mechanism, the heavy gate immediately began to descend, and despite the three men below heaving with all their might, they could not prevent it from closing.
"Damn it, form up and fight!" the leader shouted aloud, his face dead serious as he watched the enemies surrounding them.
Goblins and Bugbears roared and shouted angrily, while the continuous howling of Wargs echoed through the entire forest.
"Charge! Take the high ground!" The ugly creatures brandished their cleavers and screamed frantically, letting out sinister laughs at the prey they had cornered.
Ethemon grabbed Lae'zel just as she was about to charge out the next second. "What's got you in such a rush?"
"Why wait to slaughter these disgusting, stinking wretches?" Lae'zel asked, her face utterly perplexed.
"You really do have boundless energy, don't you ever get tired?" Astarion muttered, sweating slightly.
"This little bit of exertion isn't even enough to warm me up!" she said proudly.
"Brute." "You—!"
"Stop, don't start."
As he routinely held back his two mutually incompatible teammates, Ethemon watched the goblins multiply in number. Suddenly, a young man leaping into the battlefield drew everyone's attention.
The chocolate-skinned man wielding a longsword unleashed an Eldritch Blast that sent a cackling female goblin flying, then followed up by thrusting his sword straight through another goblin's chest. Splattered blood landed on his face as he insolently flourished his blade at the goblins. "Wretched cockroaches, dare to provoke the Edge, and reap the bitter fruit!"
...
Ethemon twitched the corner of his mouth. While feeling a second-hand cringe from someone dropping a chuunibyou one-liner right in the middle of a chaotic battlefield, he also had to admit it looked rather cool. It was mildly amusing.
He turned to look at his companions, who were all awaiting his orders, and blinked. "Well, given that everyone is pretty exhausted, Lae'zel and I will go help out. You guys just hide in the shadows and pick off targets with ranged attacks." He merely wanted an opening to establish a connection with the grove's leaders; he had no intention of dragging all his teammates into the thick of it.
Shortly after, Shadowheart watched as the two loose cannons in her team rushed in at a dead sprint. In an instant, blood was flying and screams filled the air.
"Hah, looks like he truly can't learn to follow doctor's orders." Casting armor spells on the three of them left behind, Shadowheart spoke in a chilly tone.
Astarion, holding a bow and occasionally picking off shots of opportunity, chuckled at this. "You know, Shadowheart, you really do sound like a mother at her wit's end with her children~"
A glare flashed her way. "Want to bet I'll kick you right into the fray?"
Astarion made a face and fell silent.
The previously deadlocked battle swung toward victory thanks to the intervention of Ethemon and the others. As the massive gates slowly opened, more Tieflings and Elves joined the fray, not only securing total victory but also capturing a few screeching goblins alive.
It should have been a time for celebration, but Ethemon noticed the atmosphere among the Tieflings and Elves was rather strained. Neither side looked pleased, and they deliberately parted ways without even glancing at each other.
There was clearly something wrong within this camp.
Because they had helped kill the goblins, Ethemon and his group were naturally invited inside. Looking around, Ethemon spotted quite a few symbols belonging to the Circle of Druids, one of whose three core tenets was to extend a helping hand to the weary and wounded.
No wonder there were so many Tieflings here; they must have all come seeking sanctuary.
"There are children here, you idiot!" The Tiefling named Zevlor and the chestnut-haired man erupted into a fierce argument. "You actually led those goblins straight back to the camp! And let them kidnap the Archdruid, unbelievable!"
"We were running for our lives!" the short-haired man retorted with indignation.
Ethemon rolled his eyes and waded straight into the argument. "I've actually seen battles far bloodier than this. It's a miracle not a single one of you died."
"And who the hell are you?!" The abrasive voice made Ethemon frown and tilt his head. *Tch, I think I just saw spit flying through the air.*
"Show some respect! This man just saved your pathetic little life!"
"I sure as hell didn't beg anyone to help me."
*Oh ho, how about I stab you to death right now, then?* Ethemon rolled his eyes.
"Please, you were begging me to open the door just a moment ago. People will do anything to stay alive, you coward!"
The merciless provocation stung the man. The corners of his eyes twitched and his hands clenched into fists, clearly reaching his breaking point.
"You two! Now is hardly the time for quarreling. Both sides have wounded that need tending to, don't they? And your companions seem to be waiting for you?" Ethemon pointed toward the people standing behind the chestnut-haired man. Although no one had died in this skirmish, injuries had been unavoidable.
"Enough," Zevlor called a halt first. "There is no need for us to argue here. The current priority is still those goblins."
"Hoh, I'm just glad we can reach a consensus." With that, the man glanced sideways at Ethemon, then turned and left with his teammates.
"Apologies for letting you witness that." The Tiefling had a pair of golden pupils that, paired with the striking pitch-black sclera, made him look more like a devil from the Nine Hells; yet, the elderly Tiefling's attitude was exceptionally amiable, and even in heavy armor, he stood ramrod straight. "Aladdin is simply like that. I apologize for his rudeness, and thank you for your help. I am Zevlor."
"A pleasure, I am Ethemon. Do you happen to know where I might find the First Druid of the grove?"
Zevlor's expression dimmed slightly, and he gave a wry smile. "If you are seeking help, I'm afraid you are already too late. This grove no longer welcomes any visitors; these druids intend to drive everyone out. Originally we had time, but this attack will only make their resolve all the firmer."
"That doesn't sound like the way of the druids. Doesn't that violate their tenets?" Gale frowned.
"I tried to reason with their First Druid, but Kahga—their newly appointed First Druid—wasn't even willing to see me." That furrowed face was full of bitterness. "They are preparing to initiate a ritual to seal the grove off from the outside world, and have ordered us to leave immediately, or else be killed. We..." Zevlor's voice dropped lower, "We were headed for Baldur's Gate, but the road is crawling with Gnolls and goblins. Who knows how many of us can make it there alive."
Without needing Gale to brief him, Ethemon remembered the details concerning the Tieflings. They should have originally been living in Elturel.
Rumor had it that these Tieflings were once ordinary humans, but the archdevil Asmodeus tampered with their bloodline, filling their veins with the essence of devils. Ever since, these Tieflings hadn't been particularly welcome, mostly residing in Elturel; yet not long ago, a grand devilish conspiracy had instantly dragged their final sanctuary down into the Nine Hells.
They were pitiful, that much was true, and from their current interactions, these Tieflings hadn't turned malicious because of their fiendish bloodline—in fact, they were quite easy to get along with. It was just... Ethemon found it a bit strange: was this Tiefling leader confiding in him a bit too readily? Why was he spilling everything the moment they met? He clearly wanted something from them.
Sure enough, seeing that Ethemon was still listening, Zevlor persevered and finished his piece despite looking somewhat ashamed. "I know this is none of your business, but you pulled a lot of weight in that fight just now. Those druids back there are bound to inform Kahga, and she might actually be willing to see you. Perhaps—and I mean perhaps—you could persuade her to halt the ritual? Even if you can't, please at least buy us a little time to pack our bags?"
"Sure, I'll try talking to her," Ethemon replied so casually that even Zevlor's eyes widened.
"Are you serious? We haven't even sorted out our own mess and now we're going to play errand boy for others?"
Astarion, you could have said that a little louder.
It looked like Zevlor truly had poured his heart and soul into this, as he didn't mind even when Astarion muttered those words right to his face. He said with immense gratitude, "Ethemon, I honestly don't know how to thank you. We owe you a huge favor. Please, try your best to persuade Kahga. If we get chased out of the grove just like this, surely more people will meet a violent end."
Zevlor gripped Ethemon's hand and shook it, the Tiefling's body temperature, higher than that of an ordinary person, transferring through his skin into Ethemon's hand. He seemed to want to say more, but a desperate cry from the lookout platform above interrupted him. "No! Gann! Wake up, please wake up!"
Zevlor gave an apologetic nod, directed Ethemon and the others on their way, and then hurried up the ladder to see what had happened.