Upon entering Letherman, Penny realized that the cold air from the north in his previous life was merely a jest. The fierce winds, averaging around force five, incessantly blew snowflakes, and perhaps due to the particularly harsh weather upon arrival, exposed skin felt as though it had been sliced by a knife, causing almost blood-like pain.

Fortunately, the considerate innkeeper had prepared thick woolen coats in advance, thus sparing him from enduring the elemental assault. After all, it was a first-level spell, and every spell saved counted.

A certain mage textbook once stated that a mage who relied solely on magic to solve everything was foolish and incompetent. Penny wholeheartedly agreed and held it as a guiding principle. Thus, he refrained from using spells whenever possible, as sometimes, the mouth and mind proved far more effective than spells.

It was akin to the spell "Comprehend Languages," which enabled Underdark gremlins to understand Common. However, it would never teach Saelians the dialect of Common Komeer. Despite over a week of training, Penny still encountered rigorous scrutiny at the gates of Musangtiel.

Merely possessing the identity of a mage was enough to arouse considerable suspicion. Witnessing the severity of the scrutiny, Penny couldn't help but wonder if he would be cleaved in half by an axe if he shaved his head.

Moreover, both inside and outside the city seemed shrouded in a thick, ominous atmosphere, unsettling Penny. After navigating the checkpoint with considerable effort and entering the city, they inquired with a guard, who appeared highly vigilant.

"Why are you asking these questions?" the guard demanded.

"We are merchants from Komeer, hoping to find some business opportunities here," Penny replied.

"By the Three, you merchants are all lunatics," the berserker cursed, displaying disdain for the profession of merchants. "The traitors from the north are about to attack! They are assembling their armies in the Ashenwood, and this place will soon be under siege! Damn opportunities, you're all heading for a dead end!"

"Traitors?"

"Those misled compatriots by that lunatic, I do not wish to oppose them, but it is imperative to protect the Witch Council," the berserker asserted with conviction. "They have safeguarded Musangtiel for four centuries, serving as Letherman's guides... Nevertheless, you insignificant merchants would not comprehend such sentiments. Focus solely on amassing wealth, and may fortune favor you."

"It appears the situation is dire, Vika, you should return," Penny pondered for a moment. From the words of the berserker, it could be inferred that Letherman was indeed in the midst of severe turmoil, perhaps even escalating to armed conflict.

"Are you sure you want me to leave?" the innkeeper furrowed her brow.

"This place is too perilous; I cannot concern myself with your well-being," Penny frowned.

"You underestimate me, dear brother. I am far more capable than you imagine," Vika's lips curled into a faint smile. "Have you planned your next steps?"

"I should endeavor to align myself with either side of the conflict to facilitate the search for answers," Penny deliberated.

"But how do you intend to align with one side?" Vika's eyes shimmered with curiosity as she continued to inquire.

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"Well..." Penny scratched his head, still undecided. After all, he lacked deeper understanding and was thus unable to proceed with further action.

"I know someone, um... let's call him a friend," Vika's expression became slightly peculiar. "He resides in this city and might be able to assist you."

"A friend?"

"Yes, someone rather unsavory but somewhat useful. You might find him agreeable," Vika remarked after glancing at Penny.

"Unsavory yet useful?" Intrigued by Vika's assessment of this individual, Penny eagerly desired to meet him.

After traversing several alleys, they arrived at a courtyard adorned with runes. The interior of the courtyard's gate was shrouded in dimness, evidently concealed by some form of magic.

Vika furrowed her brow, about to shout, but was gently silenced by Penny. After he took a few turns, the illusion created by the runes immediately dissipated, and from the courtyard came the sound of someone shouting in frustration: "Damn it! Who has ruined my arrangement?"

Penny's eyebrow twitched; he couldn't help but think the voice sounded much like a nervous male duck.

Vika shrugged, gesturing towards the distant gate to indicate they should enter. However, the owner of the disgruntled voice had already burst out, his eyes glowing with a fiery red hue upon seeing Vika. He leaped up three feet in excitement. "Vika? You've finally come! Have you finally come to appreciate my art? Oh, great Van de Vinfosp, I praise you! You've finally allowed me to gain favor with the most precious art in the world."

This fellow had slightly pointed ears, but the robust and broad lines of his facial features indicated to Penny that his elven lineage was not pure. Despite his appearance suggesting youth similar to Vika's, he was likely older due to his elven bloodline. Apart from his rabbit-like ears, what drew attention more were his flamboyant hair and eccentric attire, reminiscent of the nonconformist style Penny had encountered in a previous life.

When Penny saw this guy clutching Vika's hand with his claws, his eyelids twitched several times. He felt Vika's earlier statement was completely incorrect; there was no way he could possibly fancy such an individual.

"Apologies, Anael, I did not come to appreciate your art," Vika withdrew her hands, shaking her head regretfully. "I..."

Upon hearing this, Anael's expression immediately changed, shifting from warmth and enthusiasm to sternness. "You did not come for my art? Then why? Oh, dear Lady Vika! You've disrupted my illusion; you need to compensate me."

"Fine," Vika sighed helplessly. "Anael, tell me, what do you want?"

"I want your cooperation with my art," Anael declared with a tilt of his head.

"You know that's impossible," Vika's face betrayed a look of dilemma.

"Then don't expect me to relent," Anael retorted sternly.

"You must desist, sir, who resembles a rabbit," Penny interjected with a cough.

"You're the one who looks like a rabbit! Your whole family looks like rabbits!" Anael erupted in anger, glaring fiercely at the interjecting Penny.

"But none of my kin have ears as long as yours, sir," Penny remarked solemnly, eliciting a chuckle from Vika.

"Young man, your words just insulted all elves and half-elves of Fehren. Lord Corellon will use divine punishment to discipline you," Anael turned to Penny, exasperated.

"Though the Lord of the Elves may wield great divine power, unfortunately, I do not fall under his jurisdiction. You should know, sir, it's not the time to hold me accountable for my inappropriate remarks; you'll have bigger troubles at your doorstep very soon," Penny reasoned calmly, gesturing dismissively to Anael.

"Troubles for me?" Anael looked incredulous, while Vika also gazed at the youth curiously, unsure of his intentions.

"I just dismantled your illusion enchantment..."

"Ah! So it was you who did the deed!" Anael suddenly realized, rolling up his sleeves with clenched teeth, as if he were ready to pounce on someone at any moment.

"Sir, from what I gather, those who use such enchantments to seal off entrances are usually wizards..." Penny glanced at Anael's attire and hairstyle. "Of course, there are also bards and the like, but typically, such individuals employ illusion enchantments either to conceal illicit activities or to ward off unwanted visitors."

As Penny observed Anael's increasingly stiffening expression and heard footsteps approaching from outside the courtyard, he smiled. "My intuition tells me, Mr. Anael, that the latter possibility seems more likely."

"Found him!" "Found him!" "Over here!" The footsteps drew nearer, and a gruff voice echoed outside. Anael's eyes darted wildly, his complexion worsening.

"Barge in!" a loud command sounded from outside, shaking the entire courtyard. The outer gate crashed down, and a group of burly men wielding axes menacingly appeared at the entrance. "Anael, you scoundrel!"