Book 11: Chapter 41: Arrival of the Epic

“Did Zhentarim members really enter the Death Lands?” Qin Lun was somewhat surprised. He immediately thought of a possibility and turned to look at Mastashia.

Seeing Qin Lun’s gaze, the Highland Elf spread her hands helplessly. “I’ve told you everything I know. But if the clue Iristin got is correct, then that information must have leaked.”

“What are you being so mysterious about? What information?” Iristin asked, her face completely blank.

“After you disappeared last time, Mastashia followed Sif’s expedition into the Death Lands. She found a relic of the Legendary Pirate Balduran inside.” Qin Lun frowned. “Balduran crossed the Death Lands just before his final voyage. Looking back now, it might have been to leave behind something important, like an inheritance or the pirates’ treasure.”

“Huh?” Iristin was stunned. Having spent considerable time in Baldur’s Gate, she naturally knew who Balduran was.

The Zhentarim was a dark organization that wouldn’t lift a finger without profit. While the Death Lands produced gemstones and Magic Crystals, its dangers were numerous. Apart from low-ranking adventurers hoping to get lucky, it was hard to imagine any interest from the Zhentarim. If they were sending people in, whatever was attracting them had to be worth far more than a few gemstones and Magic Crystals – it must be Balduran’s inheritance or treasure.

Qin Lun frowned in deep thought. The Zhentarim had gotten the news before Mastashia. If the Highland Elf wasn’t lying about the timeline, it meant the Zhentarim had another source of information.

This raised another problem. Balduran lived centuries ago. While the Death Lands were remote, adventurers had ventured there over the centuries. Could no one have found any trace Balduran left behind for all those years?

If no one had, that would be one thing. But now, oddly, two major organizations – the Harpers and the Zhentarim – got clues at almost the same time.

“Could someone be deliberately using some of Balduran’s relics to lure others into the Death Lands?” Most Harpers had qualities of spies and agents. What Qin Lun thought of, Mastashia soon considered too.

“Or maybe someone discovered evidence of Balduran earlier but lacked the strength, wanting to use other big organizations to scout the way?” Rand suggested through the Team Channel.

“That possibility is smaller. The Zhentarim aren’t people you mess with easily. Trying to manipulate them is like playing with fire,” Hill said with a light smile. “Whether there’s a conspiracy or not, our group isn’t strong enough to get involved deeply. Shame about missing out on that Plot Mission.”

“Iristin, after entering the Death Lands, did you see any of those Zhentarim again?” Qin Lun tossed the fish bones he’d been gnawing on and asked, turning to her.

“Not at first,” Iristin replied with a wry smile. “But after the Trolls came, we ran into them during the retreat. There were three of them, stronger than us. One might have been a Legendary Powerhouse, but they were all severely injured by then.”

“Humph! If it wasn’t for those unlucky Zhentarim drawing more Trolls, Iristin and I could have escaped,” Idria snorted from the side, cutting in.

After detailed questioning, Qin Lun and the others finally understood how Iristin, an Elven Druid who could transform into a giant eagle, ended up captured here.

Originally, Sif’s expedition had stuck to the outskirts of the Death Lands. The hired mercenaries weren’t paid enough to accompany them deep into the swamp. Iristin couldn’t force them to suicide. Later, they encountered scattered Trolls, and the fighting intensified. Although there weren’t many Trolls, Iristin and Idria could handle repelling them. Unexpectedly, the Zhentarim members who had gone deeper earlier were retreating too, bringing a huge pack of Trolls with them. The whole adventuring group got scattered.

Facing overwhelming numbers and weak mercenaries plus the two employers, Sif and Mason, the kind-hearted Iristin had to stay behind holding them off. She fought until exhausted and was captured. The three retreating Zhentarim fared little better. Even with the mercenaries and Iristin acting as shields, only one survived: the most agile Rogue was captured by the Trolls. The other two, including the Legendary Powerhouse, died.

“But when we rescued everyone, we only found Iristin and those three. The other cages held only gravely injured swamp monsters!” Mastashia asked, confused.

“Those Trolls weren’t from just one tribe,” Qin Lun pondered. “Maybe it was a shared festival or sacred day. Multiple tribes sent out hunters.”

“A pity. If we could find that surviving Zhentarim, we’d know what they were scheming!” Rand sighed regretfully.

Iristin and Idria suddenly exchanged a look. The Elven Druid smiled. “We don’t need that Zhentarim member. We got the clue ourselves. But you might be disappointed. It’s… tricky to figure out!”

It turned out during the chaotic battle, the fighters were too busy to look around, and those without combat ability scattered and ran. One person, however, both lacked combat skill and lacked the strength to run. All they could do was check on the dead and wounded, hoping to help somehow. That person was Mason, the old butler of the Hulan family.

Mason was too old to run. Knowing escape was unlikely, he stayed near Iristin and Idria. While others fought, his intention was just to see if the two downed Zhentarim members could be saved. Instead, he found a sealed letter on one of them. The old butler didn’t read it then – he considered it their personal effect to be returned someday. Later, when captured by Trolls, the letter wasn’t taken; it was just a small scrap of paper to them. Before collapsing from exhaustion, Mason opened the letter out of boredom. The coded language used by the Zhentarim was, of course, gibberish to him. Yet, as an experienced noble family butler, he quickly realized it was a secret message.

Knowing his chances of survival were almost zero, the old man slipped the letter secretly to Iristin for safekeeping. The escape last night was too frantic for Iristin to remember it. Only when Qin Lun mentioned it now did she recall.

Qin Lun took the crumpled piece of parchment Iristin handed him. It smelled unpleasant, but the writing was still visible. It was obvious, though, that an Apostle couldn’t decipher this message either.

There were limits to the Quest World language translation granted to Apostles through their Apostle Soul Mark by Shattered Starry Sky. While common tongues were usually translated, local dialects could be tricky. A coded letter, set up like a riddle? Utterly beyond its capabilities.

“Let me see!” Mastashia took the letter from Qin Lun. She frowned at the cryptic symbols like celestial script. “Can you read any of it?” Qin Lun asked hopefully. The Harpers were the Zhentarim’s sworn enemies, and Harper agents were experts in espionage. They might stand a chance.

“Without the cipher key, understanding it is impossible,” Mastashia said thoughtfully. “But after centuries of conflict with the Zhentarim, we’ve acquired several of their ciphers. Give me some time to recall. With luck, I might decipher it.”

The Highland Elf made no promises. Cipher keys could be many things: a specific book, a particular chart, etc. Only by matching the cipher to that specific key using the implied rules could the message be unlocked. Without the key, it was futile.

Mastashia gently traced some symbols on the thick parchment with the silver fishbone, translating the ones she recognized into Common Tongue. She didn’t risk tearing it.

“Done,” she said wearily a little later. “I got less than half. The main gist? It’s not clear. I understand it relates to the Silver Marches, but seems to have little to do with Balduran’s treasure!”

“Less than half?” Qin Lun was puzzled. If she knew the cipher key, why only half?

“This cipher used the timeline of Soro continent. I… just can’t remember all the details.” Mastashia flushed with embarrassment at their expressions, then snapped defensively. “I’m not a Harper who came up through playing songs! It’s not strange I can’t memorize every historical record!”

“Hmm, let me look,” Qin Lun said, his eyes gleaming slightly. He took the parchment, looked over the sparse Common Tongue words she’d scratched onto it with the fishbone, and slowly smiled.

At the same moment, a spark of pleasant surprise flashed in the eyes of Rand beside him and Hill on the other raft. At this moment, in the most unexpected way, they finally triggered the Epic Plot they’d long-cherished.

Mastashia, struggling with her recall, only deciphered a small part of the letter. Worse, she couldn’t connect the fragments into meaningful sentences beyond recognizing a few words related to the Silver Marches. Qin Lun, crafty as a fox, was powerless when it came to deciphering codes without their original context.

One thing was clear, though: cipher keys had to be common books or charts, otherwise, they were useless for delivering messages. Imagine using an ultra-rare unique book as a key. Impossible to crack? Sure. But how would the receivers decipher the message? Therefore, keys had to be famous, commonly available works. These books were widespread, sure… but the world held endless volumes. Without the exact title, finding the key was near impossible, just like cracking a unique key.

However, just because Mastashia and the others couldn’t decipher the entire letter, didn’t mean Shattered Starry Sky actually needed to.

Once the parchment’s content was scanned by an Apostle… by Qin Lun… Shattered Starry Sky instantly processed it through Faerûn’s entire digital library of common books. It precisely identified the single matching cipher key Soro Timeline. By aligning it with Mastashia’s initial translation pattern, the entire sealed content was unlocked instantly.

Whether Shattered Starry Sky fed the complete solution back into Qin Lun’s mind was impossible to know. It wasn’t necessary for its sole purpose: to pass the hidden check. The coded letter’s content, once recognized through Mastashia’s partial effort, served only one function at this point – one single ding echoed dramatically within the deepest layer of their awareness: the key condition was satisfied. Without any announcement, fanfare, or text scroll, the epic plot appeared.