Iron Dragon's Advancement Journey

Page 160

　"Everyone's here." Casalos surveyed the crowd and spoke in a deep voice, "First, I need to report on the latest battle situation."

　With a wave of his hand, a three-dimensional magical projection appeared on the table, displaying the real-time status of the entire defensive line.

　"Over the past seven days, we've repelled 174 waves of demonic attacks," Casalos said, pointing to the dense array of markings on the projection. "The demonic losses are conservatively estimated at over 100,000, but that number is meaningless—they keep pouring out of the abyss, and even with heavy losses, they can be quickly replenished."

　"What about our side?" Helm the Dwarf asked in a deep voice, his rough fingers unconsciously stroking the handle of his warhammer. Even seated, the dwarf lord remained as steady as a mountain.

　"A total of 2,173 casualties have been recorded, including 892 killed in action." Casalos's voice was filled with suppressed anger. "107 constructs were destroyed, and 34 golems were rendered unusable. More than 60% of the Silvermoon City Mage Order are mana depleted, and the Knights of Mystron have suffered nearly half their losses."

　"The dwarven shieldbearers have lost thirty percent of their brothers," Helm added, "but we can hold on."

　"Most importantly—" Casalos's finger moved to the location of Hellgate Fortress, "according to the results of the prophetic magic detection, the portal's reaction is continuously increasing, and the fluctuations are stabilizing. At this rate of development, it will reach its most stable state in two weeks at most. By then…"

　"By then, any being at the level of an Abyss Lord will be able to easily pass through that portal," Elasdra continued, his expression grave.

　The conference room fell into a brief silence.

　"The balance of nature is being broken," Tulang began slowly, his voice like the wind rustling through the treetops. "The animals in the forest are migrating south; they have sensed the evil coming from the north."

　"Therefore, we need a new strategy," Casalos broke the silence. "Continuing with this passive defense will only lead to our slow, bleed-to-death demise. The purpose of this meeting is to find a way to completely eliminate the portals and the demon army."

　"What suggestions do you have?" The Lord of the Mist's voice came from beneath the cloak.

　"Take the initiative." Casalos didn't hesitate. "Assemble our strongest forces and storm Hellgate Fortress directly for a decapitation strike. Without command, the demon army is just a disorganized mess."

　"Too risky." The Lord of the Mist's voice came from beneath his cloak, carrying an ethereal quality. "There are at least three Abyss Lords within Hellgate Fortress. Even if we gather all our forces, we may not succeed."

　"Then do you have a better idea?" Casalos looked at the mysterious spellcaster.

　The Lord of the Mist slowly rose to his feet and took out a peculiar object from his cloak. It was a triangular star-shaped crystal with an agate encircled by an unknown metal set in its center. The entire object exuded an ancient and dangerous aura.

　"The Watcher's Crystal." A hint of smugness lingered in the Mist Lord's voice. "This is an artifact I've collected for many years. Anyone willing to bring it into the core of Hellgate Fortress can utterly destroy everything there—including the portals."

　"What's the price?" Elasdra keenly sensed the key point.

　"The bearer will perish along with Hellgate Fortress," the Mist Lord readily admitted. "This is a mission of no return."

　Silence fell over the meeting room again. Mei, what about me? Lin, you're free, Lin is here, what's wrong...?

14. Debate

　Sacrifice is always a heavy topic, whether it is someone else or oneself who is sacrificed.

　Casalos's gaze slowly swept over every face in the command center.

　It did not deny that many among those present were willing to step forward in times of crisis and bear the inevitable sacrifice—even if it scorned some, such as Storm Silverhand, whom it privately called "the madwoman." This silver-haired bard always imposed her beliefs on others with a magnanimous and impassioned demeanor, as if the safety of all Faerûn rested on her shoulders alone.

　But the purpose of convening this meeting was never to discuss who should be sent to their deaths.

　"I have even worse news to share." Casalos took a deep breath, stood up, and its eyes revealed an insight and wisdom beyond its years. Its voice was deep and firm, and its expression was more solemn than ever before.

　The air in the conference room seemed to freeze. Elasdra Silverhand's long silver hair trembled slightly as her gaze shifted from the magically projected map of the defenses to Casalos with a hint of inquiry. Forel Blackhammer's rough fingers hovered over the handle of his warhammer, the dwarf lord Helm Dwarf's beard quivered slightly, and the treant Turon's wooden body emitted a low creak. Only Elminster remained engrossed in his ever-read spellbook, his white beard obscuring his expression, seemingly detached from everything.

　“At most one month,” Casalos said, his voice heavy as iron, each word seemingly forged in a furnace, “a far greater and more devastating catastrophe will befall the continent of Faerûn.”

　"What?" Helm Dwarf sat up abruptly, his rough hands slamming on the table with a dull thud, his beard trembling slightly with shock.

　Forel Blackhammer stood up abruptly, his hand already unconsciously reaching for the handle of his warhammer: "A disaster worse than the demonic invasion?"

　Casalos nodded, his voice heavy as a mountain: "The severity of this calamity may even surpass the catastrophe caused by the fall of the gods during the Year of the Shadow!"

　"How is this possible?" Elasdra Silverhand slowly shook his head, his wise eyes revealing disbelief for the first time. "Forgive my bluntness, but I cannot imagine anything more severe than the calamity caused by the loss of the gods' positions. That would be a complete reshuffling of the entire pantheon, the collapse and reconstruction of the magic network itself..."

　Storm Silverhand's silver eyes suddenly lit up, and she abruptly stood up, her tone full of provocation, "A calamity worse than the Year of the Shadow of the Loss of the Gods? You're exaggerating, Iron Dragon?"

　Casalos's lips curled into a cold smile. It didn't rush to answer, but instead lingered its gaze on Storm's face for a moment, as if scrutinizing a leaping spark. It deliberately slowed its speech, its tone mocking: "The intensity of this calamity will far surpass the disasters caused by the gods' loss of their positions during the Year of Turmoil. To be precise, this calamity is itself a lingering aftershock of the Year of Turmoil—the Year of Turmoil was merely the beginning of one calamity after another on the continent of Faerûn."

　Elasdra frowned, and she gracefully raised her hand, signaling everyone to calm down: "Lord Casaloz, I cannot imagine any calamity more severe than the loss of the gods. In the turbulent years, the magic network collapsed, the gods descended to earth, and the continent of Faerûn was almost torn apart... What exactly is this calamity you speak of?"

　Casalos turned his gaze to Elasdra. At least this High Lady of Silvermoon City knew how to ask questions, unlike some who only used emotional outbursts to cover up their ignorance. He spoke slowly, his tone already tinged with weariness: "In fact, even the opening of the Hellgate's Abyss Passage this time is just the aftermath of turmoil."

　"Why?" Elminster finally raised his head, put down the spellbook he could never finish reading, and his long white beard looked particularly old under the magic light.

　Casalos abruptly turned his head, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "You dare ask me why? You've lived for over a thousand years as a chosen one of the Goddess of Magic, do you really not understand the reason behind this? Or are you just playing dumb with me?" He deliberately emphasized "playing dumb," his smile deepening. These words were enough to keep Elminster silent—the Goddess of Magic's silence was not due to ignorance, but rather to apprehension.

　His smile grew even more dangerous: "Not just you, but who among us here didn't have some suspicions or prepare for this?"

　The conference room fell into a deathly silence.

　The atmosphere in the meeting room became tense. A moment of silence fell over everyone, their gazes shifting between Casalos and Elminster. They were not fools; the game of the gods was a taboo subject on the continent of Faerûn, especially given that many of those present were chosen by the gods—it was a topic that couldn't be mentioned at all. However, Casalos's bluntness sent a shiver down everyone's spine—they had all felt that invisible pressure, that sense of destiny of being manipulated by the gods.

　Those high and mighty gods redistribute the world for their own benefit, and it is always the mortal beings who bear the cost.

　The Lord of the Mist steered the conversation back to the present, slowly raising the Watcher's Crystal to his face, obscured by his cloak. He stared intently at this otherworldly artifact, his voice ethereal and deep beneath the cloak: "Therefore, if we cannot completely resolve the Hellgate Fortress problem within a month..."

　He didn't finish his sentence, but everyone understood what he meant. Two crises combined—that would be the true end of the world.

　"I have two members of the Harpists' Alliance willing to carry out the Lord of the Mist's plan," Storm Silverhand suddenly spoke, his tone calm yet carrying a hint of...

　A chilling coldness ran through her. "Krisanna Flame Gorge and Cursed Serpent, they are both experienced adventurers, more than capable of handling this task."

　Casalos slammed his hands on the table, the violent movement sending his chair sliding back half a meter: "So you mean, send two living people to their deaths?"

　These words ignited the storm's fury. Her silver eyes narrowed slightly, and she too stood up, placing her hands on the table. Her tone was so cold it seemed to freeze the air: "This is a necessary sacrifice. For the safety of all of Faerûn, they are willing to bear this responsibility."

　"Bullshit!" Casalos interrupted her rudely, his voice like a hammer blow on a chopping board, causing the air in the conference room to tremble slightly.

　"What necessary sacrifice? It's nothing but the trick you so-called heroes excel at—sending others to die while you sing their praises! You brainless madwoman!"

　"What did you say?" Storm's voice suddenly rose, his silver hair fluttering in the invisible waves of magic, his hand already on the hilt of his sword. "You self-righteous reptile!"

　"I'm telling you, you're a hypocrite who only knows how to send your men to their deaths!" Casalos sneered, unyielding. "You're always spouting moral platitudes, but when it comes to the crucial moment, it's always others who get sacrificed! Who do you think you are? A savior? Or do you think other people's lives are so worthless?"

　"A teenage iron dragon, does it really think it's invincible?" Storm retorted, his voice laced with obvious sarcasm. "Do you know what an Abyss Lord means? It's a being close to a god! With your laughable army of constructs? Don't think you're invincible just because you've won a few small skirmishes!"

　"Ridiculous?" Casaroz's voice suddenly turned low. "Storm Silverhand, you madwoman spouting platitudes about morality, when did you learn to use your brain? Whose construct army held off 174 waves of demonic assaults? Whose steel defenses protected the fragile lives of your undisciplined, soulless Mystron Knights? If it weren't for the defenses of Deepwater, your knightly order would have been torn to shreds by the demons long ago!"

　Storm's expression changed drastically, and the anger in his silver eyes almost burst forth: "You arrogant iron dragon, you only know how to solve problems with brute force! Do you think your construct can solve everything? The Abyss Lord is not a toy you made of iron sheets that you can deal with! In the end, your goal is nothing more than to take this opportunity to expand your Abyssal Territory and swallow up our power!"

　Casalos's laughter grew even more grating, almost pressing down on Storm, his face revealing undisguised contempt: "Expansion? Annexation? Storm, what else can fill your paranoid brain besides conspiracy theories? Do you think everyone is like you, only focused on themselves, obsessed with how to be a savior? Let me tell you, real wars aren't solved by you running around with a few adventurers! Your petty cleverness is nothing but a fart in front of the Abyss Lord!"

　"You!" Storm slammed his fist on the table, the magical energy creating an invisible gust of wind. The magical projection on the table flickered slightly. "Don't think you can turn the world upside down just because you have some industrialized toys! The arrogance of a dragon will always be your greatest weakness!"

　“Arrogance?” Casalos’s eyes flashed with cold light. “Storm, you shrew, when did you learn to look in the mirror? Your arrogance is Faerûn’s disaster! Back in Shadow Valley, you arbitrarily accused my apprentice Isis of being the murderer, causing her to be wanted and hunted down! Now you want to use the same stupid method to send two adventurers to their deaths? Do you think this is a bard’s story, where a few heroes can turn the tide?”

　In the original timeline, Krisanna Flame Canyon and the Cursed Serpent did indeed successfully destroy the portal to Hellgate Keep. However, back then, Hellgate Keep was only guarded by a few hundred demons, far from the thousands pouring out every hour it now, and it lacked the presence of a Pit Lord. Casalos knew this, but it also knew that Storm's plan was nothing but a pipe dream in the current situation. The Pit Lords' perception was sufficient to cover the entire fortress; no invisible or disguised adventurer could break through their blockade, let alone face the endless stream of demons.

　Its voice grew increasingly impassioned: "You've never seen real war! You're just a bunch of old fogies living in the glory of the past!"

　Storm Silverhand's face instantly flushed red: "You dare—"

　"What do I dare? Tell the truth?" Casalos scoffed. "You doubt my motives? You question my purpose? Fine, I'll tell you my purpose—survival! So that my people can survive the impending catastrophe, so that Faerûn won't become a hellscape! And you? What can you do besides sending others to their deaths?"

　"Enough!" Elasdra tried to mediate, but the tension between the two had already been completely ignited.

　Storm Silverhand trembled with rage: "You arrogant lizard! You think you understand war? You're nothing but a cowardly coward who commands from the rear!"

　"Cowards? Then tell me, how could your chosen ones—a former priestess of the goddess of magic and a bard—possibly break through the demon army's blockade, evade the senses of the three abyss lords, and complete this so-called heroic sacrifice?"

　This question left Storm speechless for a moment.

　Casalos pressed on: "Hellgate Fortress is now teeming with over a hundred thousand demons! New demons are pouring out of the portal every hour! What do you think this is? An epic adventure from a bard's tale? Your two poor minions can't even break through the defenses, let alone get close to the portal's core!"

　"You—" Storm wanted to retort, but found himself speechless.

　Turning to the window, Casalos could see the flashing magical lights on the distant defensive line, evidence that the battle was still ongoing: "If Deepwater Territory had a hundred thousand troops, I could block the portal to Hellgate Fortress, slaughter whatever comes my way, and pile the heads of the Abyss Lords into a mound!"

　His voice grew increasingly impassioned: "Give me a million soldiers, and I can lead them into the Abyss, establish a forward base there, and allow Faerûn to colonize the Abyss and expand its territory!"

　"But the reality is—" He turned abruptly, a hint of helplessness flashing in his eyes, "Deepwater Territory only has so many people and so many resources, enough to support such a limited army."

　His gaze swept over the representatives present: "And you, those numerous but backward, corrupt, and long-overdue mage and knight orders, can only hide behind the steel defenses I've built and throw stones!"

　These words plunged the conference room into a deathly silence. Storm Silverhand's face turned pale, and the others wore complex expressions.

　"Storm, that's enough." Elasdra finally stood up, suppressing Storm's anger as the elder sister. "This is not the time to argue. Sit down!" She turned to Casalos, her voice gentle yet imbued with the unquestionable authority of the High Lady. "Lord Casalos, please control your words. We are allies now, not enemies."

　The old golden dragon, Eros Krujipala, spoke slowly, his eyes, tinged green by the natural power of Merika, filled with earnestness: "Lord Casaloz, your anger is understandable, but now is not the time for infighting. The threat of Hellgate concerns the entire Faerûn; we need unity."

　The treant Tulang's wooden body emitted a low creaking sound, his voice like the wind rustling through the treetops: "Young Iron Dragon, anger will cloud your judgment. Let us calm down and find a solution together."

　Lyra Silverhand sighed softly, stood up, and bowed slightly to Casalos on behalf of the Storm:

　"Lord Casaloz, I apologize for Storm's words. Regarding the Shadow Valley incident… we were indeed wrong. But now, our enemy is the demons of the abyss, not each other."

　But Elminster, who should have spoken at this crucial moment, remained silent.

　The legendary mage had ample reason to remain silent: firstly, he had already been thoroughly ridiculed by Casalorus and had no desire to draw Casalorus's attention to himself at this crucial moment; secondly, he knew the source of Casalorus's conflict with Storm Silverhand—back in Shadow Valley, Storm Silverhand had arbitrarily accused Casalorus's apprentice, Isis, of murdering him when he disappeared, and issued an arrest warrant for her to the Harpists' Alliance. From this perspective, Storm was in the wrong.

　More importantly, even given Elminster's habitually protective nature, he would have sided with Storm, but the subsequent developments were simply too unexpected. Casaroz's apprentice, Isis, became one of the new Twin Goddesses of Magic during this turbulent year. Elminster, Kelben Black Staff, and the Seven Sisters of the North—the original chosen ones of the Goddess of Magic, including Elasdra and Storm—completely lost their stance and support against Casaroz—who was the current Goddess of Magic's mentor! Although she lacked Silverflame, Casaroz still possessed the status of a chosen one of the Goddesses of Magic.

　Most importantly, Casalos was now on the side of all the beings of Faerûn, and in a correct one. The Dawn Harpists, led by Elminster and the Seven Sisters, had no reason to oppose Casalos.

　Casalos's gaze lingered on Lyra's face for a moment before he finally snorted coldly and returned to his seat. He didn't truly want to break ties with Storm; this conflict was simply a way for him to vent his frustration over the losses in Deepwater Territory. Seeing Storm so enraged did indeed make him feel much better.

　"You are all right, arguing will not solve the problem." The humanoid iron dragon's tone became calm and cold again: "Now let's get back to the point. The plans of the Mist Lord and Storm Silver Hand may have worked in the past, but now, there are three Abyss Lords guarding Hellgate Fortress, and their perception is enough to cover the entire fortress. Krisanna and the Cursed Serpent may be excellent adventurers, but they are just priests and bards. Faced with the pressure of the Abyss Lords, they cannot even stand still, let alone destroy the portal."

　In fact, as long as the three Abyss Lords remain, any attempt to destroy or control the portal is futile. Those beings are no ordinary demons; they possess power approaching that of gods and intelligence no less than any of us present.

　It paused, its gaze sweeping over everyone present: "The only way is to gather our strongest forces, personally lead a suicide squad, storm Hellgate Fortress, and carry out a decapitation strike. Kill the three Abyss Lords. Only in this way can we possibly deal with the demon army and the portal. Those present here—the highest fighting force of the allied forces…"

　Forel Blackhammer was the first to speak, gripping his warhammer "Skullcrusher" tightly. The artifact seemed to respond to its master's fighting spirit, emitting a deep hum. The lord of the Three Pigs Lands' rugged face lit up with excitement: "I support you! Rather than slowly dying here, let's fight to the death! Warriors should die on the charge!"

　Helm the Dwarf nodded vigorously, his braid swaying slightly in his beard: "Dwarves never fear battle. If necessary, the warriors of Sandaba are willing to participate. The sons of the mountain will not back down!"

　"I reserve my opinion." Elasdra paused for a moment, his long fingers lightly tracing the tip of his staff. "But if the final decision is to launch a surprise attack, I am willing to go with you all. Silvermoon City will not stand idly by in times of crisis."

　Elminster, an old man who was always on the front lines of these kinds of events, naturally wouldn't back down and also expressed his willingness to go. Storm Silverhand snorted coldly, looking at Casalos provocatively, as if to say: See, I dare to go myself.

　“I’m willing to participate.” Kelben Blackstalker coughed lightly, turning calmly to Lyra. “But dear, someone has to stay behind to command the defenses. If we all die, at least you will continue the fight.”

　Leila was slightly taken aback, then nodded without refuting.

　The Lord of the Mist's voice came from beneath his cloak, tinged with obvious skepticism: "Lord Casaloz, as far as I know, there are many powerful figures in your Deepwater Territory who have yet to show themselves. For example, the Fang Dragon Archmage 'Shaving Tooth,' the Bronze Dragon 'Thinker' Ohmora Sedar, the Ancient Chrome Dragon Vicaritural, and so on. Why don't you summon them to participate in this operation? Don't you trust your allies?"

15. What are you doing?

　"Isn't my presence here enough to demonstrate 'trust'?"

　The crystal chandelier in the conference room cast a soft yet cold light, illuminating Casalos's face. His voice was as calm as a deep pool, sharp and icy like a tempered steel blade slicing through rock.

　It wasn't angered by the Mist Lord's questioning, but the atmosphere of the meeting made it somewhat impatient. In Casalos's eyes, everyone present—High Lady Elasdra of Silvermoon City, Storm Silverhand who spouted benevolence but was filled with heroism, the silent Elminster who seemed to be playing dead, and the mysterious Mist Lord—was all "cute little ones." Their strategic vision was limited to the traditional magic and swordplay of Faerûn; despite their chosen status, they were no different from the ignorant masses.

　Casalos's gaze lingered on the Lord of the Mist for a moment longer. This mysterious fellow, with Mist Fortress right next to Hellgate, his territory would be the first to be trampled by the demonic army, yet he remained inactive, attempting to preserve his strength, even sowing discord. To the pseudo-Laplace's demonic perception, this scheming was like a naked dwarf dancing in the sunlight—comical and conspicuous. It silently sentenced the Lord of the Mist to death in its heart, but outwardly, it suppressed its arrogance and calmed itself—ultimately, it was still not strong enough; the three Abyss Lords protected by the heavy demonic army were still not something it could easily deal with.

　That's not entirely accurate. Even with the likes of Shaving Tooth, Casalos wasn't completely helpless against these three Abyss Lords.

　only……

　“Vikaritura is the ancient dragon overlord of the Chromium Dragon Clan,” Casaloz explained slowly, concealing his disdain. “It is not a member of the Deepwater Territory, nor is it currently there.” He paused, then continued, “However, rest assured, apart from Vikaritura, the other ‘strongmen’ of the Deepwater Territory mentioned by the Lord of the Mist will participate in the upcoming operation.”

　"Where are they now?" Storm Silverhand abruptly raised her head, her face still full of provocation, clearly not yet recovered from the previous argument. She crossed her arms, her tone laced with undisguised suspicion, "Don't tell me you're up to some trick again, hiding things and not explaining clearly. Do you really think we're your dragon servants?"

　Casalos shifted his body, his boots clicking against the footstool with a crisp "thud," as if mocking her impatience. He didn't answer immediately, but slowly rose, his dark gold robe shimmering under the light, an invisible pressure sweeping through the conference room like molten lava.

　"The Shaving Teeth, the Thinkers, and the Tide Singers are carrying out a special operation. The success or failure of this operation is directly related to whether we can fundamentally solve the threat posed by Hellgate—and even the Abyss—to Faerûn."

　“What?” Elasdra frowned slightly, keenly sensing the deeper meaning in Casaloz’s words. Her tone was inquisitive. “Lord Casaloz, are you saying there’s a way to completely eliminate the threat of the Abyss—do you know what the Abyss means?”

　“You will soon see the results.” Casalos smiled back at the High Lady, but did not answer her question directly.

　Weeks ago, after Charleson's intelligence network detected unusual fluctuations in the Hellgate Abyss Passage, it immediately ordered Deepwater Territory to enter a state of war mobilization. After informing the Silvermoon Federation of relevant intelligence and forging a temporary alliance with the Mist Fortress of the High Forest, the Treants, and the Druids through the Silvermoon Federation's diplomatic network, the roar of the railway transport lines echoed through the night. An army composed of steel constructs and dragon-vein kobolds, covered by magic ships and dragon wings, surged towards the Silvermoon Federation like a tide, building this fifteen-kilometer-long steel defensive line on the edge of the High Forest.

　This defensive line not only bought time for allies, but also gave Casalos the initiative in the strategic deployment.

　The demonic army of Hellgate Castle primarily threatens the High Forest and the Silvermoon Federation, and Deepwater Territory has already done more than enough by sending troops. Expecting it to solve all the problems for these "little darlings" for free? Ha, wishful thinking. What Casalos needs, of course, is to use this crisis to propel Deepwater Territory's development to new heights—it wants not only victory, but also strategic dominance over the continent of Faerûn.

　Let's start from the North!

　Just then, the air in the conference room suddenly tightened. A powerful magical wave emanated from the north, striking the hearts of every spellcaster like an invisible hammer. Elminster's spellbook trembled slightly, Elasdra's previously amiable gaze sharpened abruptly, Storm Silverhand gripped his longsword tighter, the golden dragon frowned, the treant rubbed its bark, and even the aura beneath the Mist Lord's cloak fluctuated slightly.

　Everyone immediately stood up, quickly left the conference room, and climbed to the top of the watchtower to look north. A towering blue beam of light flickered on the horizon. Even from tens of kilometers away, the powerful magical fluctuations still made the spellcasters present feel a chill. Ilminster narrowed his eyes, trying to analyze the nature of the light: "That's... a large-scale teleportation spell? No, this scale... it's teleporting something enormous!"

　Before the words were even finished, the beam of light suddenly expanded, forming a massive magic circle with a diameter exceeding one kilometer. The center of the magic circle began to distort, as if some colossal entity was squeezing the boundaries of reality, attempting to break into this world.

　Casalos stood atop the tower, his dark gold robes fluttering in the cold wind, his heart undisturbed.

　The next moment, an inverted mountain slowly emerged from the magic circle. No, it wasn't just a mountain, but a city built atop the inverted peak. Black walls were as sharp as blades, and pointed towers pierced the ground. The entire city exuded a chilling pressure. Countless silver chains, inscribed with runes and shimmering with oppressive light, entwined the city's surface. Shadow bats hovered at the city's base, their shrill cries like mournful wails, like ghosts rising from the underworld.

　"By the Mysterious Lady..." Elasdra murmured to himself, his voice filled with unprecedented shock, "That is... a floating city?"

　Storm Silverhand frowned, his tone full of suspicion, "'Soft Wings'? Casalos, you've made contact with Vera Marandes?"

　“Storm, as a master harpist, haven’t you been invited to 'Soft Wings' by Vira Marandes yet?” Casaroz glanced at her sideways. “This dark, floating city doesn’t resemble Soft Wings at all. This is Netheril’s floating city!”