Lynn sought to win Finn over, recognizing that a priest is invaluable at any juncture. However, it was no surprise that Finn hesitated to agree; Bane priests are notoriously pragmatic, motivated by tangible benefits.
Nevertheless, the plan piqued Finn's interest, and he became markedly more serious. The prisoners selected would eventually form the core of the settlement's power structure; they must bear a certain degree of authority. Lynn believed they would not betray him, as he was willing to grant them power, but they also needed to possess enough capability to warrant his trust.
Finn was intent on determining whether the prison housed sufficiently competent individuals.
The two men made their way directly to the prison of Santir Fortress. Upon revealing their identities, they were granted unhindered access. It was at this moment that Lynn truly grasped Finn's strength and status: he wielded fourth-tier spells and held a significantly elevated rank within the church, which left Lynn momentarily astonished.
The position of priest, second only to that of a regional bishop, is not insignificant. Yet, in the ecclesiastical stronghold of Santir Fortress, he found himself relegated to arranging noble engagements—such a waste of talent.
Upon entering the prison, Finn employed a minor stratagem that swiftly directed the guards to escort them to the innermost recesses of the facility. The management of Santir Fortress's prison was meticulous, with detailed classifications for various groups, including minor offenders, serious criminals, those awaiting redemption, and those serving hard labor. Naturally, the most dangerous inmates were confined in the deepest sections.
Here, an area devoid of magic formed the foundation of the maximum-security wing. The cells were constructed with formidable strength, augmented by various implements of torture, ensuring that escape was impossible for the prisoners.
After all, being pierced through the shoulder or having a thigh shattered would render even the mightiest warriors incapable of resistance. Adventurers may be powerful, but once they fell into the hands of the guards, even the strongest among them could be reduced to the frailty of a rabbit.
"Indeed, Santir Fortress's prison holds many arrested adventurers; after all, we are a city that values order and disdains those who flout the law. However, truth be told, the individuals within this prison possess limited strength; truly formidable individuals would hardly find themselves incarcerated."
The guard provided an overview of the situation. After a slight application of Finn's spells to coerce him, the guard obediently detailed the prison's most promising candidates. Finn felt no qualms about his actions; as a Bane priest, a modicum of power misuse was entirely acceptable.
"The most notable inmate here is a half-orc barbarian who, intoxicated, wrecked half a tavern. He was captured while asleep and subsequently locked away. Additionally, there's a former monk of commendable ability—an adventurer who was betrayed by his comrades, strayed from his path, and has since succumbed to despair. I'm uncertain whether he can still be of use."
The guard introduced a few capable prisoners, but aside from these two, Lynn found most of the others rather peculiar. After all, it is unlikely that ordinary individuals would end up here; searching for suitable candidates in a prison is akin to seeking a needle in a haystack.
A drunken barbarian and a fallen monk seemed like acceptable prospects, yet while they were perusing, Finn suddenly halted, exclaiming in surprise at a particular cell.
Lynn paused, following Finn's gaze to behold a most unusual figure.
Within the cell stood a peculiar elf: she appeared somewhat shorter than the typical elf, her skin a pale, lifeless hue. Numerous wounds marred her body, and her tattered burlap clothing bore stains of blood, many of which appeared fresh, likely inflicted during her time in the prison. Most curiously, her head was completely bald—there was not a single strand of hair upon it.
Does an elf wear red robes? Lynn's immediate thought was one of incredulity. Yet, he soon realized that despite her emaciated frame and myriad scars, she still possessed a notable vitality. Moreover, she bore no tattoos, and he detected no magical aura.
"What manner of elf is this?"
"Who can say? There are too many subtypes among those with pointed ears. I interrogated her, and she claims to be a drow… Isn't that amusing? A white-skinned drow!"
A drow? Lynn found the notion somewhat ludicrous; even a fool knows that drow are characterized by their dark skin—this is fundamental knowledge. However, Finn did not laugh. After a careful examination, he leaned forward and whispered a question.
"Zhakai?"
"Surprising that the surface is not comprised entirely of imbeciles; there are still those who recognize me." The previously silent elf lifted her gaze, her voice hoarse and parched, as if she had not spoken in ages. "These foolish guards are completely oblivious to the existence of phantom spiders; I thought I would perish here."
"Under normal circumstances, surface dwellers indeed do not encounter white drow, for in drow society, they are as rare as one in a hundred," Finn explained, engaging her directly while elucidating to Lynn. "Aren't you supposed to be the beloved of the Spider Queen, a leader among the drow? How did you end up on the surface?"
"The Spider Queen is capricious; no one can maintain her favor indefinitely. Drow do not require a fixed leader—chaos is our way of life…" The white drow paused for a moment, "But this time, I have become the sacrifice, and I am reluctant to adhere to the rules."
"This is why I abhor the chaos gods; they are utterly incomprehensible." Finn muttered, "It seems you have no desire for death. Would you be interested in joining us in our escape? I cannot guarantee you anything, but it must surely be preferable to rotting in this prison."
Finn felt a surge of excitement at having discovered such an unexpected gem, and the drow regarded him with a glance before conceding, "If I were to refuse, you would likely allow the guards to execute me, would you not? It does not violate your laws. However, I must inform you first: if my presence draws the attention of pursuers sent by the Spider Queen, I cannot be held responsible."
"This is the surface; your Spider Queen's influence is not as potent here," Finn waved his hand dismissively. "You are a white drow, but what is your profession? You do not appear to be a priest, nor a mage, I presume?"
"I am a wanderer," the white drow replied, "also a wandering swordsman—Imori Gessa, from the Fifth House of Chid Nasad."
"The City of Shimmering Webs? You have strayed quite far from home." Finn seemed quite familiar with the drow's origin. "I cannot fathom how you traversed from the Deepsea Wastes to here, but having journeyed this far, you must possess considerable skill."
"Your praise is unwarranted." Imori replied without any hint of delight. "Can we leave now?"
"Three enforcers would be barely adequate… With our five members, we can certainly attempt the plan."
Finn signified his intent to Lynn, clearly motivated to join the scheme with the addition of three enforcers. However, just then, a voice unexpectedly pierced through the stillness of the prison—a voice that resonated with desperation and anguish.
"Take me with you! I want to join your plan, whatever it may be! Just get me out of this damned place—I can be of help to you! I am a spellcaster!"