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Dorn pushed open the heavy oak door of the tavern, and the familiar clamor rushed out. The smell of tobacco mixed with the sourness of cheap ale and the fishy odor wafting from the kitchen created the unique atmosphere of this port tavern.
His companions occupied a round table in the corner. Pavel Simov was polishing his mace, a symbol of Losanda, his sun-kissed blond hair still gleaming in the dim candlelight. The priest always wore a gentle smile, but those who knew him knew that when faced with evil, he could be more ruthless than anyone else.
"You look terrible." Pavel looked up, a hint of worry flashing in his blue eyes. "Had another nightmare?"
"Worse than a nightmare." Dorn sat down opposite him and casually took the glass of wine that Renn offered.
Raine Snowthief, a taciturn polar dwarf. His beard was braided into an intricate plait, adorned with several small silver ornaments—a tradition from his homeland. A harpoon rested beside his chair, and his battle axe was always at his side. As a ranger, his understanding of nature surpassed even that of many druids.
"Let me guess," Will Whirlstone's voice came from under the table—this halfling always liked to sit on a specially made high stool to make himself appear as tall as everyone else—"Did some blind dragon offend you again?"
Will is a typical halfling: optimistic, witty, and a bit of a chatterbox. His sling hangs plainly from his waist, but Dorn knows it's covered in powerful runes. In battle, this little guy can accomplish incredible feats with stones.
"More or less." Dorn briefly recounted what had just happened, deliberately omitting the details of being beaten without any chance to fight back.
"Tungsten Dragons?" Pavel frowned. "I read about them in the picture books distributed by those bards. They're a branch of the Atheros, supposedly belonging to the Lawful Good faction."
"Kindness?" Will scoffed, glancing at the unnatural movements of the Dorne Iron Golem. "What kind of kind dragon would break into someone's room in the middle of the night and beat them half to death?"
"Perhaps she has her reasons," Pavel said thoughtfully. "If, as she says, she's dealing with an evil dragon..."
"Whatever the reason?" Dorn downed his ale in one gulp. "A dragon is a dragon. As long as I can kill it, I don't care who I'm killing it for."
Raine finally spoke, his voice low and rippling like the grinding of rocks: "Loreba, those bronze dragons won't welcome us."
"We won't welcome him," Dorn nodded, "but we won't refuse him either."
"Yeah, they're much friendlier," Will added, "but the dragon riders riding on their necks won't give us a friendly look."
"So what?" Dorn looked around at his companions. "Are you scared?"
The three of them looked at each other and then burst into laughter.
"Scared?" Pavel shook his head. "How many dragons have I killed with you? Isn't it a bit too late to say I'm scared now?"
"I'm just calculating how much supplies we need to prepare," Renn said casually. "You said we're going to kill a lot of dragons this time, not just in one or two battles."
"We still have money!" Will added. "We've almost used up our last haul. Long trips aren't cheap."
Dorn pulled a heavy money pouch from his pocket and tossed it onto the table: "This is the deposit for that tungsten dragon. Enough for us to prepare."
The clinking sound of the gems, so distinct from metal, drew the attention of adventurers at the surrounding tables, but they quickly looked away. In Illavorn, meddling in other people's business was hardly a good habit.
"Looks like she's serious." Pavel took out a ruby from the bag and examined it closely. "Perfect cut, pure, clear, refracting a dragon's head pattern. This kind of gemstone has gone crazy in price lately. This bag should be enough for our retirement."
"Whether she's serious or not, it doesn't matter." Dorn stood up. "Three days is enough time to prepare. Ryan, you're in charge of supplies. Will, find out about the ship to Loreba. Pavel..."
"I know," the priest replied with a smile. "The holy water and blessed weapons we're preparing to deal with the undead, I think the dragon lich will also consume them."
"Very good." Dorn turned and walked upstairs. "Get some rest. This job might be more dangerous than before."
"Dorn," Pavel suddenly called out to him, "Do you really believe in that tungsten dragon?"
Dorn stopped in his tracks without turning back: "I don't trust anyone. But as long as I can slay a dragon, it doesn't matter who I cooperate with."
8. Winged Elf
Agatha Dorothyron folded her wings, her massive tungsten dragon body tracing a graceful arc above the military camp outside Loreba. The morning light pierced through the clouds, making her dark green scales appear like oiled steel. Several layers of sharp metallic thorns cascaded down her neck, the vibrant red and green rings at their bases, like those of venomous insects, particularly striking in the sunlight.
"Lady Agatha is back!" The half-dragon kobold on the camp's watchtower waved a signal flag excitedly.
She landed on the wide open space reserved for dragons, her claws carving several deep craters in the compacted ground. Several paladins in silver armor immediately came to her aid, led by a human woman with short blonde hair.
"Welcome back, Lady Agatha." The paladin bowed respectfully. "Lady Fiona has been waiting for you."
"Thank you for your hard work, Lillian." Agatha nodded, her body radiating a silvery-white light.
The magical aura of the shape-shifting spell rippled outwards like water, and the massive dragon's body rapidly contracted within the light. Moments later, a tall woman clad in full black armor appeared in the spot. She had long, dark green hair, intricately braided and cascading down her back, and deep indigo eyes that were haughty and cold—in reality, it was just that Agatha wasn't quite used to controlling her facial expressions. (The last sentence appears to be unrelated and possibly a fragment from another text.)
Agatha strode towards the central main tent, the half-dragon soldiers along the way saluting her. This temporary camp was quite large, housing at least three hundred elite warriors. The tents were neatly arranged, weapon racks were filled with gleaming standard equipment, and several subiron dragons were lazily sunbathing on specially constructed dragon perches.
Inside the main tent, Fiona Milon sat deep in thought before a massive map. Even in human form, the tungsten dragon maintained an elegant demeanor. She wore a deep blue robe, her metallic hair cascading down like a waterfall, and she toyed with a faintly glowing crystal in her hand.
"Have you found Dorne Greybrook?" Fiona didn't look up, but her tone carried a hint of anticipation.
"Found them. They'll be here in three days." Agatha sat down opposite her, pouring herself a cup of tea. "I tested Dorn Greybrook. He was too weak; aside from that mysterious dragon-slaying power, he was barely a Paragon-level warrior. The rest of his party wasn't much better; any half-dragon kobold could easily rout them..."
She paused, then frowned. "Fiona, are you really sure he and his team can play a role in the upcoming 'war'?"
Fiona finally raised her head, a deep light flashing in her golden, vertical pupils: "I'm not sure, but I trust its judgment."
"It?" Agatha raised an eyebrow. "You mean Casalos? What's that iron dragon cub up to these days? Why doesn't it come in person?"
"It has more important things to deal with." Fiona gently shook her head. "Besides, Agatha, power isn't everything—at least not our power. Moreover, for a long time to come, the power of us dragons will be increasingly restricted..."
"It's just Dragon Madness, it's not like we haven't been through it before." Agatha shrugged dismissively.
Fiona's expression suddenly turned serious: "A different kind of Dragon Frenzy, and... we no longer have the protection of the Old Supreme Dragon and the Mind Network!"
These words silenced Agatha. Of course, she remembered the last time the dragon went mad—that insane impulse surging from the depths of its soul, that desire to destroy everything. If it weren't for the suppression by the old Supreme Dragon through the mental network, the Atheros would probably have been wiped out long ago in their infighting.
"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing." Agatha took a deep breath, trying to lighten her tone. "So, what are we looking for next in Lolebar?"
Fiona picked up three scrolls from the table and unrolled them one by one: "The first one is about a human named Gerstag Haider, who is seeking to join the Harpists' League. Roselyn and I were both official members of the Harpists' League and could have contacted him directly, but the problem is he seems to have disappeared."
She unfurled the second scroll: "The second person's identity is quite coincidental; he's Tagan Nightwind, a swordsmanship teacher in Gerstagg, a winged elf swordsman who has longed for human life since childhood. He's easy to find; he started his own swordsmanship school in Lolebar a long time ago and is quite famous."
When she mentioned the third one, Fiona's expression turned serious: "The most troublesome one is actually the last one—a vampire-like creature whose lair is near Loleba, and which often disguises itself and sneaks into the city."
"A Smoke Dragon Beast transformed into an undead creature?" Agatha frowned. "Why would such an evil 'hound' come up to the surface instead of staying underground?"
"This secret will require us to find it and then slowly pry it out of its mouth." Fiona closed the scroll. "According to intelligence, this Smoke Dragon Beast is very likely related to the Dragon Worship Cult."
"It's the Dragon Worship Cult again," Agatha gritted her teeth. "Those lunatics have been making more and more moves lately."
"Eisen and Svent will handle the Smoke Dragon Beast matter," Fiona said, standing up. "You and I, as harpists, will formally visit Lower Tagan Nightwind to exchange sword techniques and inquire if he knows the whereabouts of his disciple. Then we'll give Dorn Greybrook a proper welcome."
She gave a knowing smile: "Didn't you say his team was weak? Just to be on the safe side, we should seize this opportunity to let them improve their skills!"
"Eisen and Svent are already in action?" Agatha mused. "It seems the situation behind the Smoke Dragon Beast is more complex than we imagined."
Fiona didn't answer directly. Instead, she walked to the tent entrance and looked in the direction of Lorna: "This vampire smoke dragon is second only to the three giants of the Dragon Cult in terms of danger... It was the earliest experimental subject of Samass's creation of the dragon lich. After breaking free from the control of the Dragon Cult, it has been fighting against this largest evil organization in Faerûn for decades and is still alive and well."
She turned around, her golden vertical pupils flashing with a cold light: "Our trip to Loleba is ostensibly for military exchanges with dragon knights, but in reality, we're preparing for the impending final dragon frenzy. Every step must be taken with caution… According to reliable sources, the bronze dragons of the Inbutu royal family have already sided with Samaster. We need to proceed with extreme care."
Agatha nodded and began organizing her equipment in human form: "So, when do we set off?"
"Now," Fiona waved her hand, dispelling the soundproofing barrier on the tent, "Losley has already gone into the city to gather information. We need to find out about the other targets before Dorn arrives."
The two stepped out of the main tent, where bright sunlight bathed the camp. Not far away, half-dragon kobolds were conducting combat training; their scales shimmered in the sunlight, and every movement was a rhythm woven from physical strength and arcane magic.
Fiona and Agatha set off for Loleba. Instead of flying, they remained in human form and walked like ordinary travelers. This short journey would allow them to observe this most important city in Imbutu.
The walls of Loleba came into view, their bronze metal gleaming in the sunlight. The city's fortifications were uniquely styled; the walls weren't particularly tall, but every brick was meticulously polished, the gaps filled with lead capable of conducting the lightning-like breath of bronze dragons. Above the city gate, a pair of bronze dragon reliefs were incredibly lifelike, their wings outstretched, gazing at each other as if they might come to life at any moment.
The city gate guards recognized them from afar and immediately saluted: "Lady Fiona, Lady Agatha, welcome back to the city."
This was a dragon knight clad in exquisite armor, the insignia on his chest indicating he was at least a company commander. Behind him, a young bronze dragon lay lazily on a specially designed sentry platform, its emerald green eyes watching the two familiar visitors with a friendly gaze.
Agatha gave it the same friendly look, which triggered the bronze dragon's inherent social anxiety, causing it to tuck its head under its wings.
"Thank you for your hard work, Captain." Fiona nodded slightly. "Has anything unusual happened in the city lately?"
The guard captain's expression turned grave: "Sir, something has definitely been wrong lately. Several people have gone missing, all of them going out at night and never returning. The city lord has increased patrols, but still..."
"I understand, we'll keep an eye on it." Fiona nodded and led Agatha through the city gate.
The moment they stepped into Lorebar, the familiar scene unfolded before their eyes once more. Unlike other human cities, the architecture here clearly considered the needs of dragons. The streets were exceptionally wide, large enough for adult dragons to walk on the ground. Many buildings had platforms on their roofs, some even topped with elaborate dragon nests, reminding the dragons of the rebuilt Waterdeep or Heliogabarus.
Bronze dragons occasionally swept across the sky, their riders seated majestically on specially made saddles. On the ground, dragonborn paladins clad in silver-white armor mingled among the crowd. Their faces bore the characteristics of metallic dragon bloodlines: fine, neat, and intensely reflective metallic scales; their dragon heads, adorned with tentacles or fibrous fins, were topped with crescent-shaped or slightly curved black conical horns; and a pair of dragon wings fluttered in the wind behind them.
The residents of Loleba seemed to have gotten used to these oddballs and mostly welcomed them.
"The dragonborn of Bahamut," Agatha murmured, her voice tinged with complexity. "In the years of turmoil, quite a few humans have answered the call of the Lord of Justice."
"Since Butu is the land of dragon riders and borders Damara, that's a good thing, isn't it?" Fiona replied calmly. "At least in the upcoming dragon frenzy, they're more likely to remain rational than those bronze dragons."
The two walked along the main street and soon came across Tagan Nightwind's swordsmanship school. It was a vast complex of buildings, completely devoid of any elven style from the outside, blending in seamlessly with the surrounding area. The school's gates were open, and dozens of students could be seen practicing basic swordsmanship in the training grounds inside.
"It seems we've arrived just in time," Fiona said with a smile as she walked towards the door. "Hopefully, this elven swordsmanship master who reveres human culture will be willing to receive us two unexpected guests."
Just as they were about to step through the door, a cool voice came from the side: "Ladies, is there anything I can help you with?"
A slender elf appeared at the doorway. Unlike the pointed ears commonly seen in Faerûn, his distinctive wings were elegantly folded behind him. His long, silver hair flowed like silk, and his pale golden eyes held the wisdom accumulated over the years. He wore a simple white sword robe, and a seemingly ordinary yet subtly sharp rapier hung at his waist.
"Master Tagan Nightwind?" Fiona gracefully gave an elven bow. "I am Fiona of the Harpists' Alliance, and this is my companion, Agatha. We hope to exchange some swordsmanship insights with you."
Tagan's expression flashed with understanding, then he smiled gently. "A harpist's friends are always welcome. Please come in; the morning's lessons have just ended."
He led the two through the training grounds, where apprentices packing up their equipment gazed curiously at the two beautiful visitors. Tagan's study was located at the deepest part of the complex, a quiet and elegant space where the walls were covered with all kinds of swords, from elven crescent blades to dwarven greatswords.
"Please sit." Tagan personally poured them elven flower tea. "I wonder what specific business you two have with me? I imagine members of the Harpists' Alliance wouldn't be here merely to exchange sword techniques."
Fiona and Agatha exchanged a glance, and Fiona spoke first: "Master Tagan is indeed wise. To be honest, we came here for two reasons: first, we genuinely want to experience your swordsmanship, and second, we also want to inquire about your disciple, Gerstag Haider."
Upon hearing the name, Tagan nodded even more firmly, a slight hint of nervousness in his voice: "Göstag? What happened to that child?"
"Don't worry, he's not in any trouble," Fiona reassured her. "We just heard he's interested in joining the Harpists' League and wanted to find out more about it."
Tagan breathed a sigh of relief, a smile of satisfaction spreading across his face. "I see. Gerstag is indeed an upright child, dreaming of becoming a hero and fighting for justice since childhood. I would be proud of him if he could join the Harpists' League."
"Do you know where he is now?" Agatha interrupted.
"Well..." Tagan frowned. "He left school last month, saying he was going to complete an important mission. I don't know exactly where he went. But..."
He stood up and took a small box from the bookshelf: "He left this behind before he left, saying that if any of his harpist friends came looking for him, he should give this to them."
Fiona took the box; inside was a badge engraved with special symbols and a note. She quickly glanced at the note's contents, and her expression changed drastically.
"What's wrong?" Agatha asked with concern.
"Gestag has already conducted a thorough investigation into the Dragon Cult." Fiona handed her the note, her voice tinged with nervousness.
The note was brief, but contained a wealth of information:
Teacher, if you see this note, it means a friend from the Harpists' Alliance has contacted me. A friend claiming to be a harpist has reached out to me, saying they need my assistance in investigating the cult activities of the Loreba. I have successfully infiltrated their organization and discovered it's a branch of the Dragon Cult. They seem to be planning something big. I will continue my investigation. If I am unable to return, please pass this message on to my friends in the Harpists' Alliance.
—Göstag
"He's been deceived," Agatha frowned. "The harpist would never drag innocent people into danger!"
Fiona's expression was somewhat strange, but now was not the time to correct Agatha's understanding. Recalling the various plans and contingency plans etched in her mind, she said, "Gestag has already infiltrated the Dragon Cult. It seems certain events have been brought forward considerably."
Without trying to hide it from the winged elves, she immediately took out a special crystal from her bosom, concentrated her mind, and activated the pre-set psionic energy within it. The crystal emitted a gentle light that stirred the soul, and after a moment, Casalos's voice came from it:
"Fiona? What happened?"
"Göstag has infiltrated the Byron Cult's branch in Lorba," Fiona reported succinctly. "The events you predicted have occurred ahead of schedule."
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the crystal before the voice continued: "Abandon all secondary objectives and do your best to protect Tagan's safety. I'll come over as soon as I've dealt with things here."
Communication was interrupted.
"My safety?" Tagan's expression was grim. "From what you're saying, my disciple has already been killed?"
"We can't be sure of anything yet, Master Tagan." Fiona shook her head. "If you trust us, please come with us to…"
“I don’t need your protection. I will wait here for Gerstag to return!” Tagan firmly rejected Fiona’s offer, then added, “You can stay if you wish.”
"Of course, Master." Fiona shook her head. "If your disciples encounter any trouble, they will surely come to you for help. We will stay here with you, but you must first evacuate the other students. Do you agree?"
9. Old man
"Wow, this is so much earlier than expected..."
Casalos set down the psionic crystal, its iron beak making a slight clicking sound.
The Entangling Mark Society failed to lure Hyrast from the Leyline Labyrinth, and Fuzor lost his powerful backer Cyric and had no chance to kill Manson. The Crimson Dragon, Chistarian, did not attack Waterdeep, and the Sawa merfolk of Sword Coast and the mysterious sharkman Jacques Houyas also failed to land and attack.
Under the influence of the hurricane stirred up by its tiny butterfly wings, the world line has undergone a turning point. The premature acceleration of the final Dragon Frenzy, driven by Samaster, is not unexpected—it itself is the biggest disruptive factor in advancing the event. The large-scale industrial mining of precious metals in Damara, and the abundant supply of synthesized and cultivated gems, greatly reduced the resource gathering time Samaster needed to complete the transfer of the Dragon Frenzy's source. Ritual materials that would have required over a decade of clandestine gathering were acquired by Samaster within months, thanks to the Dragon Territory and its affiliated industries. With this essential problem solved, the significantly accelerated Dragon Frenzy became inevitable.
After all, Samasser didn't need to research methods for transferring the Dragon's Fury Source. Some malicious individuals had directly implanted every detailed step into its already rotten brain. It also didn't need to consider the issues of supporters and action; several other malicious individuals had prepared a large number of powerful and highly motivated "subordinates" for it to sacrifice at will.
It didn't even need to worry too much about the resistance its plan might encounter. The two largest organizations that could potentially hinder it, the Harpists' Alliance and the Golden Dragon Court, were no longer capable of posing a substantial obstacle. The Harpists' Alliance was embroiled in internal strife due to Kelben Black Staff's withdrawal—something that should have been Bane's doing, but which had been brought forward by Casalos's influence on the timeline by several years. And the Golden Dragon Court…
This is a devastating disaster orchestrated by multiple deities, each with different motives, who "coincidentally" chose the same agent. The only limitation on Samaster's progress is resource gathering, but the development of Dragon Territory will inevitably solve this problem for it.
Therefore, before even noticing the unusual flow of precious metals and gems, Casalos had already laid out a comprehensive strategic plan.
"Then let's go!"
It spread its wings, its silvery-white metallic scales gleaming coldly in the morning sunlight. Long ago (dr1367), it entered adolescence, making its physique even more imposing. With a length of nearly twenty meters and scales that looked like they were forged from fine steel, it was a magnificent sight even in front of an adult dragon.
The morning mist on Mount Nafelpaertak had not yet dissipated, and an unnatural chill filled the air.