Intimidation

As Anse looked at everything before him, his gaze turned distant. Though they had escaped immediate danger, he felt neither particularly excited nor happy.

I pitied them. I stood by and did nothing. I empathized with them. I was powerless to help...

He suddenly felt that the whole idea of alignments was rather peculiar.

If he had arrived in this world as a teenager, he would probably have been Lawful Good and made the same choice as the Old Cleric.

But after being shaped by society, suffering countless setbacks and learning countless hard lessons, he had realized that many people's misfortunes were caused by their own personalities and choices. A moment of help couldn't change their fate.

Besides, not everyone was worth helping.

His own life was already a tangled mess. Getting caught up in too many troubles would only waste time, energy, and money. His family needed him more.

"We should get going!"

Rivington gave him a bad feeling. Throughout their journey, he had sensed unfriendly gazes, and with tens of thousands of refugees crowded together, their negative emotions kept building. It felt like an explosion was only a matter of time.

And staying at the church meant facing all kinds of moral dilemmas. If something really happened, they would be caught between two impossible choices. Better not to see it at all.

A little while later, Land and Zahir hurried back.

The unfriendly gazes lurking in the shadows gradually disappeared. They dared to bully Lothander's clerics, but that didn't mean they dared to mess with followers of Tyr.

Anse gave Brat and Finn a look, and the group gathered together.

"Leaving?" Brat seemed to have guessed.

"Yeah." Anse nodded. "We'll say goodbye, find somewhere to stay, and buy some supplies. Then we'll leave in the morning."

"Where to?" Brat asked, his expression complicated.

Last year, he had abruptly ended his not-so-pleasant adventuring career and chosen Baldur's Gate as his new home. Just as things had started to fall into place, it had all come to an unexpected end.

"The Gray Dwarves are all to the north. To the south, there's wilderness and forest, and farther south is Candlekeep..." Anse considered it. "Let's head east and follow the Chongsa River. We can figure out what comes next later."

He wanted to go to Waterdeep, but heading north directly was out of the question.

"I don't have any family. I can go wherever," Finn said indifferently.

"I have no objections. For lodging and supplies, I suggest the Adventurers Guild. In times like these, it's probably the safest place," Brat suggested.

"You're the veteran Adventurer. I'll take your advice." Anse picked up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.

They didn't bother Land. The three of them went to find the Old Cleric, Berg, said their goodbyes, and left the church.

The Old Cleric tried several times to ask them to stay, but in the end, he said nothing and watched them leave.

As soon as they left the church grounds, Anse sensed one ambiguous gaze after another sweeping over them, lingering on their backpacks and bundles.

Professionals were indeed powerful, but low-level ones couldn't withstand being surrounded. More than a few Professionals had died beneath pitchforks.

Anse wasn't too worried. High-level Professionals wouldn't care about the little they had, and any Professional or ordinary person of their level who tried something would be asking for death. He wasn't an ordinary spellcaster.

The air reeked of an indescribable stench. Refugees crowded both sides of the street, many lying out in the open on threadbare blankets. Without the faint rise and fall of their chests, they could have been mistaken for corpses.

The farther they went into the city, the worse it got. This was no longer the Rivington in the original owner's memories.

Brat led the way. A skinny boy stumbled over and quietly slipped his hand into the bundle on Brat's back.

A flicker of delight appeared on the boy's face, but a large hand reached out and clamped around his frail wrist.

"Trying to rob me?" Brat turned around, looking amused. But when he saw how gaunt and sickly the boy was, his grip loosened a little.

The boy took the chance to break free and crouched on the ground, looking utterly terrified. He scrambled backward on his hands and feet.

"Help! Someone's trafficking people—!"

Brat's expression immediately turned cold, but he didn't loudly try to defend himself. That wasn't his style.

The people around them scattered as if fleeing a plague. Even the refugees lying on the ground rolled farther away, wrapped in their blankets.

At the same time, a dozen or so burly young men converged from all directions. Their leader was a muscular, clean-shaven bald man wearing Scale Mail beneath a tabard.

Seeing the man at their head, Anse understood what was going on. He narrowed his eyes and quickly gathered his magic.

The bald man sneered. His gaze swept over the staff in Anse's hand before settling on Brat. "Outsider, you know—"

"Sorcerous Burst!"

A short phrase in Draconic rang out, and a flash of light struck the bald man square in the face. Thunder roared.

Anse didn't pause. Within two seconds, he hurled three more Sorcerous Bursts into the densest part of the crowd.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

When the dust cleared, people were sprawled all around them. Few were actually injured; most had just been frightened.

The bald man had just managed to get back up. His ears were ringing, his face was covered in blood, and his right arm was mangled. If he hadn't blocked the attack with his arm, he would have lost his face.

Brat stood in front of him in an attack stance. Finn had already leaped onto a nearby rooftop, arrow drawn and ready.

Anse gestured to them, signaling them not to attack.

"Bald Bill, has the Anchor Brotherhood changed its business?"

He knew the man. The Anchor Brotherhood was a local gang that had long operated around the docks in Brampton. They preyed on the weak and feared the strong.

That was why he had struck first, aiming to intimidate them. He didn't believe for a second that trash who made their living exploiting the poor would fight to the death when they knew they were outmatched.

"Huh?" Bald Bill stiffened. The longsword he'd just raised drooped back down. He grabbed the edge of his tabard and wiped the blood from his eyes, then looked Anse up and down, utterly bewildered. "Who are you?"

"Does it matter who I am?" Anse deliberately put on a cold expression to scare him. "If you don't give me an explanation today, I'll sell all of you to Thay."

In Baldur's Gate, if you accidentally crossed the wrong person, you either fought to the death or paid to make the problem go away.

Just then, Dice displayed the man's information: [Bald Bill, human, level 1 Warrior]

"Misunderstanding, misunderstanding, Mr. Mage..." Bald Bill waved his hand and took two steps back. "The lads didn't explain things properly. I only came over to ask..."

"Keep making things up!" Anse folded his arms, looking like he had him right where he wanted him.

"Uh..." Bald Bill forced a smile. "Sir, we came out in such a hurry that we brought nothing with us—not even food. That's why we took the risk and did this. You know, our brotherhood never robs people..."

Anse raised a hand to cut off his excuses, then pointed at the Scale Mail he was wearing. "Nice armor. And you've got a money pouch and gems. Hand them over willingly, and I'll give you a chance. Don't think I'm an easy mark."

Bald Bill was a Professional, and the others were armed too. They could probably win a fight, but it would cost them what little magic and stamina they had left.

Things were too chaotic here. If they were in poor condition, someone else could take advantage of them. If Intimidation would do the job, there was no need to fight.

Intimidation wasn't just about having a silver tongue. Backed by the skill and Charisma, it had a powerful psychological effect, especially when reinforced by a show of force.

"Th-this..." Bald Bill's expression kept shifting. He gritted his teeth and started taking off his clothes.

Anse hadn't asked for their weapons or food, just enough to stop short of Bald Bill's limit.

What a rotten day. Weren't Mages supposed to be unable to cast spells anymore? How come the first thing this guy did was smack him in the face with magic? He'd seen plenty of Cantrips, but he'd never run into anyone who could cast that fast.

Seeing even their boss back down, the others had no choice but to hand over all the money on them. Before long, a small pile had formed.

Anse didn't bother checking whether they had hidden anything. He quietly gave Brat a look.

Brat gathered everything up in the Scale Mail Tabard and bundled it together, then picked it up. Inwardly, he gave Anse a thumbs-up.