Friendly Arm

The journey to the Friendly Arm was uneventful, aside from running into a few wandering hobgoblins and dire apes. Calling it an attack would be a stretch; the poor monsters were more like a diversion for the bored soldiers along the way, like some old pervert's dirty jokes.

Zhang Yuan also took the chance to kick a goblin while it was down and kill it. When the poor thing, fleeing the other soldiers, ran headlong into him, he raised his sword and cut it down in one stroke.

Yet the man who'd just claimed a head felt no joy. No stroke of luck—his status panel remained unchanged.

With his last glimmer of hope crushed, Zhang Yuan finally gave up. He cleaned his sword, gathered the spoils, and continued on his way.

By evening, just before the sun's final rays dipped below the horizon, they finally reached the Friendly Arm.

Perhaps because it occupied a strategically important location, or perhaps because the nearby Sharp Teeth Forest was so unruly, the Friendly Arm looked nothing like an ordinary inn. Its tall, boxy buildings were built from sturdy blocks of granite, and a stone wall nearly three meters high enclosed the entire courtyard, stables, servants' quarters, and even a Temple of Wisdom.

That's right, there was a temple too. The high priestess of the Temple of Wisdom was the innkeeper Banterley Mirrorimage's wife, Galana Mirrorimage. No wonder the Friendly Arm was so famous; it met nearly every need of merchants and adventurers.

By the time Lady Night Shar made her leisurely appearance, everyone had already entered the Friendly Arm's inn.

They pushed open the front door and swept aside the hanging curtains. A scene brimming with romance—of travel, adventure, rest, and joy—unfolded before their eyes.

Red lanterns hung from the high ceiling of the main hall, encircled by colorful ribbons. Round tables were laden with enticing food and fragrant wine. Serving girls flitted between guests and tables like flower butterflies, occasionally letting out a coy, delighted squeal when they encountered a wandering hand.

A bright fire burned in the fireplace on the left. The charcoal crackled, and sparks leaped mischievously above the grill. Golden roasted chickens filled the hall with an appetizing aroma, mingling with the warmth of the hearth.

On the right stood a small wooden stage. A beautiful woman in a vivid dancing dress performed an exuberant jig while a bard nearby accompanied her on his lute.

The crowd cheered; diners toasted one another; adventurers joked and cursed at each other, while merchants traded polite smiles and compliments.

This was what one traveler from another world saw and heard on his first visit to the Friendly Arm. Compared with the inns of Baldur's Gate, this fortress-like establishment was on an entirely different level.

Even though he'd been to the Elven Song, the most luxurious inn in Baldur's Gate, he'd never seen so many boisterous guests, such a grand and imposing layout, or such graceful beauties.

And the serving girls weaving through the crowd weren't the only ones there. There were also scores of alluring women dressed to the nines. Some flirted loudly with their chosen targets; others swept the room with their eyes, searching for potential clients. And then there was...

"You old geezer, you're trying to save even this little bit of money? Go home and live with a cow!" A disheveled woman grabbed hold of a man whose hair had started to gray.

"No, listen, other women only charge three or four silver coins a time. How can you ask for a gold piece for just one afternoon?" the poor man protested.

"What's that got to do with me? If you were any good, I wouldn't mind how many times you came back. But you're a one-and-done weakling, so pay up!" This lady of the night had a fiery temper and wasn't about to take a loss.

As everyone's attention gradually turned toward the woman's shrill shouting, people began pointing and whispering. The old man couldn't bear the embarrassment, so he quickly paid and slunk away.

"Men with no 'assets' shouldn't come looking for me. But if there's a confident man out there, well..." The woman gave a long, teasing hum that made the listeners itch with anticipation. "I'm all yours." She even leaned forward on purpose, her loose collar doing nothing to hide the two soft, lively orbs beneath.

What a disgrace! Absolutely disgraceful! Zhang Yuan watched the scene without blinking, sternly condemning the woman's wanton behavior in his heart.

As an upright man with a proper moral compass and a higher education, he could hardly wait to give her a lecture. He had to criticize and correct her behavior, and do it thoroughly.

But he stopped in his tracks. He had no money.

Money, that root of all evil, had once again obstructed the spread of progressive thought and culture. Once again, it had sent the already low moral standards of Faerûn sliding deeper into the abyss.

The otherworldly head of the Morals and Manners Inspection Committee, forced to leave in bitter disappointment, could only go back to his companions and keep waiting for their captain to finish talking with the innkeeper.

Zhang Yuan had thought he wouldn't be involved in anything, so he'd been looking around with his companions and commenting on the beauties. But then Skar came straight over. "Kid, had your fill of looking at beauties? There's something even more interesting waiting for you." He patted his rookie on the back of the head.

With nothing better to do, Zhang Yuan followed Skar to their destination, only to find himself at the counter. Standing behind it was the owner himself: Banterley Mirrorimage.

His bargain-basement captain stepped forward and exchanged a few words with Banterley, then beckoned Zhang Yuan over.

As he obediently went over, the man grumbled to himself: I left the beauties behind to come look at an old male dwarf? What kind of 'interesting' is that?

"This is the master of the Friendly Arm, Lord Banterley Mirrorimage. He's also an eleventh-level Archmage," Skar introduced solemnly.

"Come on, don't go praising old Banterley like that. What kind of Archmage am I? I've only just reached the threshold of a higher-level mage," the innkeeper said modestly. "So this is the young mage you told me about, the one who went off to become a mercenary. Charnem, was it?"

By now, Zhang Yuan had more or less figured out why Skar had brought him over. He nodded to Skar, then politely answered Banterley. "I'm Charnem. It's an honor to meet you, sir."

As soon as he finished speaking, Zhang Yuan felt a faint sense of anticipation. This was his first chance to interact with a high-level spellcaster. What if the man saw his outstanding talent and entrusted his legacy to him? Should he accept it, accept it, or accept it?

But nothing in life came that easily.

Banterley said, "I also sell some magical items here. You're a novice mage, so you might want to buy a few scrolls to protect yourself. I can give you a discount; you won't get that deal anywhere else."

It was an unexpected boon. Zhang Yuan had considered buying spell scrolls, but their prices were beyond his means. Even the cheapest first-level scroll cost five gold pieces. His entire fortune would only buy him three scrolls, let alone a robe and other magical items.

Banterley didn't say much. He tossed over a scroll, and when Zhang Yuan caught it and took a look, he realized that this enchanted scroll had something in common with the electronic menus of his previous life.

On a small piece of parchment, the touch of a sliding finger brought up a changing array of items. Each came with a detailed description, and the contents could even be browsed by category.

The wide selection on the scroll left Zhang Yuan wanting to buy everything. But one glance at the prices quickly sobered him up.

He'd better stick to the scrolls. Zhang Yuan, whose poverty kept him grounded, decisively skipped the other items and opened the spell scroll section.