Lynn's assertion that he had a method to control the released prisoners did not surprise Finn. He was aware that demon-worshippers often possessed an array of peculiar spells to subjugate others. If Lynn had adopted some unusual blood pact technique, Finn would not have found it remarkable.
This was likely why he sought prisoners: employing demonic blood pacts on companions recruited from taverns would be quite excessive. No self-respecting adventurer would entertain such notions, regardless of remuneration. However, for the inmates of a prison, such measures were entirely appropriate—they had no leverage to negotiate; they were mere lambs awaiting slaughter.
Finn contemplated this and realized he fully grasped Lynn's line of thinking.
"The spells of the undead monarch are indeed unique, and I hold them in high regard. However, I must caution you: you cannot transform them all into undead beings—that would not be wise."
To mitigate any potential fallout, Finn offered this warning. Although he cared little for the lives of the prisoners, he could not accept a situation where followers of Ocas, emboldened by his assistance, ran amok without restraint.
"I am not that reckless." This notion merely elicited a shake of Lynn's head. "I am not that extreme… In fact, within my plan, even the blood pact serves as a temporary measure. I have far better ideas to ensure their allegiance: I can offer them a promising future, and they will willingly follow me."
"To the north?" Finn looked perplexed. "What can you promise in the north, a land filled with nothing but sheep and cultists, that would compel others to serve you?"
Finn's confusion was understandable; what could possibly entice anyone in the north? Any valuable resources would surely attract the attention of the Bane Church. Santir Fortress allowed private enterprises to venture north due to the significant investments involved, while the returns remained dismal. Surely, there was something advantageous in the north that eluded his knowledge?
"I am not referring to a future in the north," Lynn replied, waving his hand dismissively and indicating a different direction. "I mean the west."
"The desert?"
"No, the Mokkou Mountains—what could we possibly accomplish in the north with just the few of us? Our first step is to recruit manpower, and the Mokkou Mountains are the ideal location."
Seeing Finn's continued confusion, Lynn felt compelled to elaborate further. "We recruit prisoners, leverage their skills to pacify bandits, and then lead those bandits against the barbarian tribes—an individual's strength is limited, but with sufficient manpower, we can establish a settlement."
Upon hearing the term "settlement," Finn suddenly comprehended. After reflecting on it, he recognized that Lynn's vision was indeed more comprehensive than his own.
Directly venturing into the north to cultivate land is fraught with peril, particularly now that hordes of people are rushing northward. Without adequate strength, survival in that harsh environment is virtually impossible. Many parties are heading north, yet most struggle to sustain themselves for long. The norm is to make a quick profit and depart.
To establish a lasting foothold, a substantial investment in manpower is essential. However, the conditions in the north are quite unfavorable, and deploying resources there would be exorbitant. Santir Fortress refrains from investing in establishing permanent settlements in the north due to these reasons, and adventuring parties certainly lack the capital necessary to do so. In a sense, the north's deficiency of powerful factions is inevitable.
Lynn aimed to fill this void: he might lack funds, but he chose a strategy that had not occurred to Finn. He planned to recruit bandits from outside Santir Fortress and then secure a foothold in the north.
While Lynn spoke of seeking bandits in the Mokkou Mountains, Finn understood that it would not require such a journey to find them; once one stepped outside Santir Fortress, bandits were ubiquitous.
One of Faerun's defining characteristics is the prevalence of monsters just beyond its towns—a principle that applies equally to Santir Fortress. Although the upper echelons of Santir Fortress are embroiled in cutthroat power struggles and appear to enforce strict control over the populace, they are powerless to maintain order in the rural areas outside the city and are loath to expend resources doing so.
After all, the aristocracy has little contact with the world beyond the city and need not exert much effort to regulate the lives of the peasantry. To them, the agricultural lands surrounding Santir Fortress exist solely to supply food, and as long as farmers can timely remit their taxes, the lords remain indifferent to their fates.
In this context, farmers living on the outskirts of Santir Fortress face threats from various monsters while simultaneously grappling with exorbitant taxes. Under such pressure, many have been compelled to turn to banditry.
How much they might steal is of little consequence; what matters is their ability to organize against the tax collectors from Santir Fortress. Given that the authorities were unlikely to concern themselves with their plight, it was hardly surprising that farmers would also strike against tax officials while fending off monsters.
This state of affairs has persisted for quite some time. However, since farmers typically pay taxes in the form of cabbages and lettuce, Santir Fortress has never taken the suppression of banditry seriously—a losing proposition. Those farmers living near the Mokkou Mountains have developed a unique lifestyle, balancing agriculture and theft.
Yet, this lifestyle is fraught with danger.
The regions surrounding Santir Fortress are not devoid of threats such as gnolls, while the Mokkou Mountains are home to beholders, vampires, and drow who occasionally venture to the surface. During inclement weather in the north, orcs, frost giants, and even white dragons may descend southward, compounded by the periodic raids conducted by the tax collectors from Santir Fortress—creating a perilous living environment for the bandits.
Such is Faerun, a remarkable land where even bandits struggle to survive.
It is precisely due to these harsh living conditions that Lynn is confident he can persuade them. For these bandits, heading to the north presents an appealing option: while the survival conditions are equally rife with monsters, at least there are no tax collectors from Santir Fortress to contend with. With this significant advantage, the remaining nomadic tribes become less of a threat.
In comparison to tax collectors, what threat do the nomads pose?
"Enlist prisoners as enforcers, rally bandits to form an organized army, and strike against the barbarian tribes to carve out a settlement on the northern plains, establishing our own power, then negotiate with Santir Fortress for greater authority…" Finn outlined the entire process before arriving at a conclusion. "It's a flawless plan; I find myself intrigued and wish to accompany you to the north. If your settlement requires a Bane chapel, I could assume the role of a bishop."
"If you are interested, you are welcome to join."
"My interest hinges on the likelihood of success," Finn candidly admitted. "Before that, let us first visit the prison and see what valuable talents we can unearth."