The commotion here was considerable, drawing the attention of many people. In the distant streets, large crowds gathered to watch, timid and hesitant, yet unwilling to miss even a single glance.
Anser also saw the presence of Silver Scale Bay guards, but they neither intervened nor asked questions—perhaps they were waiting for orders from their superiors.
Recalling the bearded man's earlier act of impersonating a guard, he felt a faint sense of unease.
After a moment of thought, he took out his holy symbol, hung it outside his cloak, and casually empowered it with a Divine Smite.
'I didn't impersonate anyone. Whatever you imagine on your own has nothing to do with me.'
The sound of hooves was like the beat of a death drum. Knowing they could not outrun horses, the slave traders chose to scatter and flee, deliberately darting into the densest crowds.
However, they guessed wrong again. Crowds might not avoid people, but they would certainly avoid horses—especially a mount like Nornoth, one glance at which made it obvious it could kill someone on impact.
Anser once more cast Jump and Feather Fall on Nornoth, leaping over congested areas whenever they were encountered.
Thus, for the first time, the people of Silver Scale Bay witnessed a wingless flying horse capable of vaulting more than ten meters through the air!
Among the six fleeing crew members, two were 1st-level professionals, but faced with the pursuit of one man, one horse, and one eagle, how could they possibly escape?
Four ordinary crew members died in succession beneath Nornoth's ramming horn and whipping tail. One professional attempted to blend into the crowd, only to have his soul precisely locked and struck down by Anser's Magic Missile.
The last professional ran quickly, but he was still electrocuted to death at the edge of the pier by a single Chromatic Orb.
The consecutive experience point notifications filled Anser's lips with a smile.
In truth, these crew members had long since been abandoned. After Conch received the news, it immediately cast off its mooring lines, raised sail, and departed the berth.
By the time Anser reached the edge of the pier, the sailing ship had already slowly pulled away from shore. However, because departing a berth was such a cumbersome process, it was still only thirty to forty meters from the dock.
There were no passengers on the deck; they had likely all been driven down into the cargo hold.
Nornoth was itching to move. With just a single "fey step," he could teleport onto the deck.
But Anser did not want to take the risk. There were still more than a dozen muskets on the ship, as well as a captain or a behind-the-scenes boss who had yet to show himself. Jumping aboard truly carried the risk of never returning.
Staring at the gradually drifting sailing ship, thoughts raced chaotically through his mind—Gust of Wind, Dragon's Breath… one spell after another floated through his thoughts.
"Get closer. Spread your neck frill."
Nornoth probed forward cautiously, his steps steady.
Anser lightly stroked the Ring of Spell Storing, as streak after streak of spell-light flashed in succession.
One Magic Missile and two fire-element Chromatic Orbs fell in sequence onto the ropes and the main sail. The ropes snapped, the sails burst into flame, and the fire rapidly spread outward.
"Put out the fire—"
"Stop him—"
"Shoot—"
"…"
The sailing ship was still pulling away, but with the sails damaged, its departure speed dropped sharply.
Anser bent forward slightly, hiding himself behind the neck frill, and focused his mind on casting.
"બર્નિંગરે"
Scorching Ray!
Resonant, forceful Draconic syllables shredded the sea breeze. Three rays of fire struck the sails, ropes, and winch in an instant. Burning ropes and sails drifted in all directions, igniting more flammable materials as flames erupted everywhere.
Anser's eyes lit up. Ignoring the sporadic bullets, he switched to the faster and more accurate Sorcery Burst, not pursuing power, only seeking multiple points of ignition.
Six or seven consecutive fire-element Sorcery Bursts struck various sail lines in turn, filling Conch with smoke and flame.
At this point, no crew members were still shooting at him, because it was utterly meaningless.
The wooden sailing ship was full of flammable materials, and its power relied entirely on sails and rigging. If they did not put out the fire now, the entire ship would be finished.
The sailing ship drifted farther away with the current and inertia, already beyond maximum range, but Anser's objective had been achieved.
"Let's see how you run now!"
Within the shadow beneath the hood, the corners of his mouth lifted. His heart was incomparably exhilarated, the pent-up frustration of being driven everywhere by disasters and underground creatures over the past several days completely swept away.
This wave yielded more than five hundred experience points. Even Nornoth gained experience—though what new changes that might bring remained to be seen.
There were many people on the sailing ship, and it also had quite a few firefighting measures. The flames were gradually extinguished, but the losses were severe, and the loss of power was already a foregone conclusion.
At this moment, the pier was unusually quiet. Anser turned his head to look. Within a hundred meters around him there was not a single person, while farther away stood dense ranks of onlookers.
Several guards stood at the edge of the crowd. Seeing the glowing holy symbol on Anser's chest, they exchanged looks with one another and did not dare step forward.
At this moment, people began squeezing out of the crowd one after another. Judging by their attire, they appeared to be professionals.
"Hey, friend, what happened?" a burly man carrying an axe on his back shouted loudly toward Anser.
A holy symbol could make some people wary, but it could also dispel most people's fear. After all, how could a follower of Tyr possibly be a bad person?
"This ship is a slave ship!" Anser raised his staff and pointed at Conch, his voice breaking through the sea wind and carrying far. "They lured people aboard for five gold coins, then sold them elsewhere as slaves. Didn't any of you notice…?"
He looked extremely indignant—mostly an act.
The crowd erupted in an uproar, voices overlapping in discussion.
"Is that true…?"
"I noticed something was off earlier. They didn't check tickets, and they didn't even count the money…"
"Good thing we didn't get on. And you were still complaining at me…"
"I was the smart one…"
"You just have short legs and run slow…"
"…"
Faerûn had laws, but it praised heroic deeds even more. Many times, there was no need for concrete physical or testimonial evidence, because magic was simply too convenient—Detect Evil and Good, Detect Thoughts, Zone of Truth… each more useful than the last.
The premise was that you had not harmed the interests of the upper nobility. Otherwise, they could arrest you just as easily without any particular reason.
"They're trying to get away…" someone shouted, pointing at the sailing ship.
Anser turned his head to look. On the sailing ship still drifting farther away, crew members were hauling out rolls of hemp rope and canvas from the cabins, hurriedly replacing them.
"So much spare material?" He did not understand sailing ships, but just looking at the complex rigging, he felt that they would not be able to fix it anytime soon.
The crowd gradually closed in. At this point, they were no longer afraid of Anser. Quite a few people stared at Nornoth, clicking their tongues in amazement.
Many professionals watched the sailing ship with flickering eyes, eager to try their hand. Striking at crime was a good pretext, and those ill-gotten gains were the reward of "justice." Presumably, a follower of Tyr would not concern himself with such trivial details.
"Everyone, quiet!" A rough voice instantly drowned out the clamor. "All of you, leave this place. The Silver Scale Bay Guard will take over from here."
Following the voice, Anser looked over to see a woman even taller and more powerfully built than most men pushing through the crowd, dozens of guards following behind her.
[Guard Captain, Human, Level 5 Barbarian (Zealot)]
Barbarians on the Zealot path receive the favor of a certain god or pantheon. The core of the path is "the supreme ecstatic frenzy of union with a god."
After observing for a moment, Anser indeed found the emblem of an "upright flaming sword" on the massive axe on her back. It was the holy symbol of Tempus, the god of war, a neutral deity.
However, worshiping a neutral god did not necessarily make one neutral.
This female captain was likely quite well-known. When the professionals and civilians saw her, they reacted like mice seeing a cat, scarcely daring to breathe. Before long, most of them had dispersed.
She came to a stop in front of Anser. Her gaze swept over Nornoth and the holy symbol, then settled on his face. "My name is Ragna. I am the magistrate of Silver Scale Bay and the captain of the guard. How should I address you?"
"Anser." Anser remained calm.
The bigger the matter became, the more it benefited him.
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