Upon the ghouls parting to clear the way, Lynn traversed the shadowy corridor, arriving in the western district of the castle. This area stood in stark contrast to the eastern wing; it was the residence of Uncle Robin's three daughters. Unlike the grim, slaughterhouse-like atmosphere of the necromantic research facilities in the east, this locale exuded an air of opulence, filled with tea rooms, gardens, and theaters—an embodiment of noble ladies' luxurious lifestyles.
The garden was meticulously tended by dedicated gardeners, and the flowing fountain was a masterful creation of the dwarven artisans. The very air was imbued with the fragrant essence of southern spices, perpetually wafting through the area, sustained by a constant gentle breeze from the *Darsun* spell.
Just a wall away, this space felt as if it belonged to an entirely different world.
Here resided the genuine daughters of the Reani family. Although the bastards were regarded as part of the Reani lineage and equally pursued, the disparity in their treatment compared to that of the true Reani ladies was immense. The genuine daughters of the Reani family would never engage in the filthy studies of necromancy; their living quarters perpetually maintained an aristocratic ambiance, wholly untouched by any baseness.
Robin had no sons, and his daughters were his true kin. His expectations for these three young ladies were markedly different: he hoped they could leverage their status as fallen nobility and the family's dwindling assets to secure suitable marriages within Santir Castle. Consequently, his daughters were seldom pressured to cultivate strength; rather, he was fervently dedicated to investing considerable sums in their behalf, enabling them to engage in social events and nurturing them into accomplished ladies of high society.
Of course, this aspiration was rather impractical: for the denizens of Santir Castle, the Reani family was merely a decrepit house. Despite their noble title, they were closely scrutinized by King Thain IV, and few dared to offend His Majesty. Thus, apart from a handful of con artists seeking to exploit them, very few would genuinely consider marrying into the Reani family.
Yet, those who were driven by greed did not align with Uncle Robin's standards.
That said, Fons Manor, being sufficiently affluent, frequently hosted grand banquets in an effort to integrate into the lavish noble life of Santir Castle. Robin's daughters often invited the prominent figures of Santir Castle to their estate, actively searching for suitable husbands. Although they had yet to achieve success in their endeavors, this had indeed afforded them a wealth of friendships.
From the moment Lynn arrived, he astutely recognized that those individuals might not be in pursuit of marriage, yet they possessed considerable influence that he could potentially leverage. Thus, from the outset, he contemplated how to forge connections with these individuals to secure promising opportunities.
And indeed, he found his chance.
Lynn walked briskly, though he couldn't help but feel a tinge of self-mockery at the thought of becoming a mere storyteller in Faerûn.
Furthermore, his storytelling endeavors were rather lackluster, as he was merely regaling the young ladies with tales.
However, this was his sole means of accessing the western district: while Uncle Robin had not imposed a strict ban on their entry, most of the time, the three ladies of the west treated the bastards with indifference. To gain their attention, one needed to pique their curiosity, and the three well-off ladies would only be intrigued by the promise of novel stories.
As for the content of those tales… what Lynn narrated to the three ladies were the stories from the *Dark Elf Trilogy*.
Telling tales to young ladies was no simple task; aside from Faerûnian stories, Lynn found it challenging to explain tales from other worlds. After all, for the people of Faerûn, magic was interwoven into their daily lives, making it difficult for them to comprehend narratives set in a magic-less society, and the varying rules of magic were equally perplexing.
Regarding Faerûn's own lore, Lynn's knowledge was limited as well. Apart from the story of *Creshinbaal*, he was only aware of the *Baldur's Gate* game. Yet, if he dared to mention the tale of *Baldur's Gate*, it was likely that tomorrow, the followers of the Death God Bhaal would come knocking, seizing him in the name of insulting a deity, and drag him off for a sacrificial offering.
After all, Bhaal was very much alive, and his followers were intolerant of such frivolous talk.
Hence, Lynn chose a suitable entry point: the story of *Creshinbaal* was set within this world and might very well be unfolding at this very moment. The city of *Mossoblay* truly existed in this realm, and the lives of drow intrigued many surface races. For the earthlings, it was a work of fantasy; for the denizens of Faerûn, it was a documented narrative.
Moreover, the drow, being a rare subterranean race, sparked significant interest among people.
Through the act of storytelling, Lynn secured the privilege to visit the ladies in the western district. Robin's daughters found great delight in his tales. While Lynn was no bard and lacked the talent for song, his stories were sufficiently novel and lengthy, far exceeding the usual adventure narratives, leaving them thoroughly enraptured.
However, they frequently played the critic, pointing out inconsistencies within the stories. Though they were unfamiliar with the drow, they possessed a strong understanding of magic. Just from listening to the tale of *Creshinbaal* escaping his homeland, they had already identified numerous errors; if he were to delve into the story of *Frostfire* annihilating *Fire Elementals*, it would likely incite a wave of ridicule.
Fortunately, it appeared he wouldn't reach that point—he had already garnered the favor of the three young ladies, and with the events unfolding in the north, he felt that his previous investments were about to pay off.
"Lynn, you have arrived! You might want to wait a moment; we currently have a guest."
Yet today seemed to be unfolding unfavorably, as before Lynn could approach, he overheard Miss Gissasa's joyous laughter. The eldest of the sisters, nearing twenty, was tall and possessed a sun-kissed complexion with a somewhat rugged beauty. At this moment, she sat at the tea table, engaged in conversation with a guest.
Without turning her head, she addressed Lynn, while behind her, Miss Vera glanced back and offered a slight nod of acknowledgment.
Miss Vera was slightly younger than Lynn, having just turned sixteen. Her fair skin and light chestnut hair made her resemble a southerner of the Jondars, yet her eyes were pure black, reminiscent of the Damaran folk.
The Reani family belonged to the Damaran heritage, but intermarriages with the Jondars were not uncommon, so it was hardly surprising for her to bear resemblances to them. However, Lynn was uncertain whether her hair color and complexion were genuine; after all, her sister Miss Relya sported lustrous golden hair—something the Damaran people did not possess. Yet, many noble young women favored wearing wigs for a more youthful appearance.
These three noble ladies were typically his audience, yet today, they were accompanied by another guest. This individual appeared to be quite youthful, slender, and clad in humble black robes. However, upon noticing the holy symbol around his neck, Lynn felt a blend of surprise and delight.
The black hand gripping the lightning bolt—this was a priest of Bane.