From Hogwarts to Strixhaven.

Chapter 504 Framing and Witchcraft General Store
The third floor of the Frogger fireworks shop was a smoke powder workshop.

Six people were crammed into a room of less than 20 square meters: three guards and three chemists.

Besides the Flame Amber (a raw material used to make explosives on the continent of Faerûn) packed in crates, there were also smoke powder barrels waiting to be transported to the storage room.

To ensure safe production, the fireworks shop staff even used a water-based process to purify and process the raw materials. After that, the smoke powder that had hardened due to drying was crushed and ground again before being assembled into landmines and projectiles.

Although they were still bound by the constraints of handicrafts, the production room, with only a few people, produced a considerable number of explosives.

On the armor that bore a resemblance to that of the Flame Fist soldiers, Ivy clearly saw Bane's insignia: a black hand.

The smoke processing room smelled very mixed, with saltpeter, sulfur, charcoal, and flame amber powder all emitting their own odors, but Ivy still managed to pinpoint the stench unique to Hell Iron.

It originates from the nail-headed hammer behind the followers of Bane, and in addition to the power of hell, a vicious, corrupting toxin seeps from within the hell iron.

"It's not a poison coating, nor a special enchantment. Is it just the inherent properties of Hell Iron?" The Hell Iron weapon that Ivy saw before him was vastly different from the Hell Iron power he remembered, and even exhibited different properties from the raw materials of the furnace on the Hell Warrior Kazzak's body.

“Each level of the Nine Hells has different attributes… Could it be that hell iron forged at different hell levels will exhibit different types of hell power?” Ivy decided not to continue observing and wanted to obtain a few samples for more in-depth research.

The third floor wasn't a large space, but there were quite a few guards. However, Ivy was still confident that she could take them down without alerting the shop assistants downstairs.

Over the years, he has rarely used the illusion spell and petrification spell to ambush enemies, and it is unknown whether his technique has become rusty.

Back then, Ivy's specialty was using this trick to bypass the prefects' patrols and sneak into the restricted reading area.

The smoke and powder workshop was filled with stacks of boxes and barrels, as well as huge raw material tanks and ventilation equipment, making it incredibly easy to temporarily hide a corpse.

The underground chemist hired by Gotash walked to the drying pot by the bed and carefully turned over the powdery smoke with a wooden fork.

The drying of this batch of tobacco powder went quite well, probably due to the exceptionally bright sunshine today. While sun-drying helps reduce the moisture content of the tobacco powder, it also increases the probability of it being accidentally ignited.

The fireworks workshops in Gotash have strict processes; even turning over the smoke powder is not allowed with metal tools, only wooden ones.

However, the sun is only shining its last rays today, which means that the chemists' day is almost over. All they need to do is transfer the smoke and powder from the drying vessel to the ventilation system, and they can go home.

He had piled the smoke powder into small mounds with a wooden shovel, transferred it to the ventilation equipment, and then spread it out. He had repeated this process countless times and was absolutely certain that nothing would go wrong—an orange bright spot appeared on the semi-dry smoke powder pile.

The chemist poked at it with a wooden shovel a couple of times before confirming it was a spot of sunlight reflecting off a part of the powder. But before he could move the powder away, the slightly damp powder burst into flames.

The rising smoke hit his face and then rushed into his lungs through his nasal cavity. The chemist cried out in surprise and fell to the ground with a thud, attracting the attention of everyone in the smoke powder workshop.

The guard screamed in panic and rushed to the bucket in the corner, pouring it all over the smoke powder in front of the chemist.

The smoke dissipated, leaving only the chemist, his face covered in soot, sitting there motionless.

Everyone in the workshop breathed a sigh of relief: "Couldn't you have been more careful? A single spark could have sent us all flying! I don't want to see Bane so soon!"

The chemist remained seated, motionless.

The guard became suspicious and stepped forward to turn his shoulder, only to see a face whose features were completely burned off.

The guard tried to scream, but found that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make a sound.

His face turned bright red, then quickly turned purple. He reached out and grabbed his neck, trying to get help from his companions, but when he turned around, he only saw a stranger standing in the middle of the workshop, holding a metal staff in front of him.

Before he could react, his head was smashed like a watermelon, completely covering the wall behind him with smears.

Ivy put away her staff, carefully put away the spiked hammers from the three guards, and admired her masterpiece one last time.

The six enemies in the smoke and powder workshop were standing in two different areas. There were two people in the mine and bomb assembly room behind the curtain. They were so focused on their work that they didn't even notice when Ivy's staff was pressed against their backs.

The chemist inspecting the drying vessel was struck in the face by Ivy's magical flames, his entire head turning to ashes. While the guards on the stairs came to help, Ivy had already easily dealt with the last two enemies, leaving only one unfortunate soul with his neck gripped by telekinesis.

Looking down from the delivery hatch of the elevator, Ivy saw that her companions had almost filled the caravan they had dragged from somewhere.

With a wave of his hand, Ivy shrank the smoke powder barrels and bombs in the smoke powder workshop and used levitation to send them all down. Explosives are always useful tools, and as long as they are stored properly, no one will complain about having too many.

Looking at the empty, chaotic smoke and powder workshop, Ivy pondered for a moment, then used her wand to direct the blood on the ground to leave a harpist's symbol on the wall.

This was to mislead Gotash into thinking that it was an assassin sent by Orin.

The ongoing friction between the Bar Order and the Ban Order, and even the murder of Gotash's partner, proves that the foundation of their cooperation has been completely shaken.

If the mainframe didn't require three Netherstones to control, and if Ivy hadn't inflicted a crushing defeat on them at the Tower of the Moonrise, those two would probably have had their brains blown out long ago.

Even though the situation between the two orders was tense, Ivy still hadn't heard that they had started a full-scale war, and they maintained a certain degree of restraint in attacking each other, with their core forces remaining unharmed.

As everyone knows, Orin is a madwoman who worships Baal, and nothing she does would surprise anyone. When she recruited assassins to commit murders, although she still used the Supreme God as a cover, the unfortunate souls who died in the Temple of Mercy, the Pearwood House, and the basement of the Cheese Shop were not on the list.

While it did seem a bit far-fetched that Baal's assassins left harpist marks after killing the Bane's followers, the city's harpists had already been wiped out by Orin, so Ivy didn't care who Gortash would suspect. Stirring things up made it easier to fish in troubled waters. Casting himself invisibility again, Ivy lightly patted Jashira on the shoulder as he passed the second floor, who was arguing with the bomb seller, before slowly descending the stairs.

"You left a harpist's mark in blood upstairs?" Jasira asked in astonishment. "Harpists never do such things!"

Ivy, walking with her teammates on the way back, nodded: "Of course I know. Anyway, all the harpists in the city were wiped out by Orin, and she even sent shapeshifters to impersonate you. Isn't that a good way to mislead Gotash? Even if he doesn't believe it, it'll still serve to confuse him a little."

The adventurers decided to split into two teams. Ivy and Gale headed to the sorcery general store together, while the others transported a whole cart of smoke powder back to the guild hall as war supplies.

What Ivy didn't expect was that Minsk, a guy who was basically unrelated to using his brain, actually wanted to go to the witchcraft general store.

“Please forgive my poor imagination… but… but I really can’t picture you holding a grimoire.” Even though they had already set off, Gale was still shocked by her companion’s request in Minsk, “Can you read ‘buttocks’? Or spell it?”

“Minsk doesn’t need to understand the mage’s language! Nor will he bother to spell a long and stupid word!” Minsk crossed his arms, looking reluctant.

“That’s another way of saying ‘butt,’ a bit more formal,” Avitigal explained. “Maybe he just wants to add a touch of poetry to your battle cry. You know, mages are always a little bit pretentious and like rhyming literary works.”

“Sorry, Gale. Minsk thought you were only good at saying sarcastic things.” Minsk immediately reverted to his usual goofy demeanor. “But Minsk’s fighting has never involved long, complicated sentences! The trenches have no place for words that require the tongue to twist three times to utter!”

“Okay, okay. So—” Gale laughed and raised his hand, “why does Minsk want to go to the witchcraft general store?”

“Minsk just misses that place.” Minsk closed his eyes. “It was a shop full of miracles. Tiny sparks of magic hissed in the air, and mages from all corners of the world argued and haggled over prices there…”

“Wow! I didn’t expect simple rhetoric to be so effective.” Gale winked at Ivy. “Even Minsk understands the allure of the sorcery general store. Now you know I wasn’t lying, right?”

“Then let’s wait and see,” Ivy said, before asking, “What did Minsk buy at the sorcery general store? A wand that can shoot fireballs?”

“No, Minsk didn’t buy anything. He just went there to be a babysitter.” Minsk’s big mouth curled into a smile. “Standing next to his spiritual mentor, pretending to be a blockhead.”

“Jahira?” Gale was taken aback.

“No, Minsk’s first spiritual mentor, Dina Hei,” Minsk replied. “She’s dead, but Minsk would love to be her caretaker again and see her smile once more. You think so too, don’t you, Little B?”

The hamster twitched its wet, pink nose and squeaked twice.

“For someone who has lost so much, your outlook is very optimistic, and I admire that,” Gail said sincerely.

“Little Bryn said our suffering will make the mind flayers grow, and dark thoughts will only fill the monster’s belly,” Minsk said proudly. “So Minsk will only disgust it with good thoughts, or do nothing at all and let it go hungry! You should try doing that, Gale!”

“Oh—” Gale was speechless.

It wasn't until the three of them saw the apprentice performing magic tricks in front of the sorcery shop that he whispered to Ivy, "Minsk's ugly big head hides a nobility that puts me to shame... He truly is a hero of Baldur's Gate."

“When all of this is over, you’ll find yourself a hero too,” Ivy replied with a smile, surveying the main structure of the witchcraft general store.

"A hero? I'm just clinging to life. If I have to die, perhaps my death will serve a greater purpose..."

The witchcraft general store was a domed building with curved walls decorated with exquisite stained glass. The vaulted glass reflected the last rays of the setting sun, refracting colorful light from all directions, creating a charming contrast with the apprentices casting spells near the fountain at the entrance.

The magically activated metal armor acts as a doorman and guard, and will also stop any adventurers who do not look like customers.

Two mages and a muscular man carrying a giant sword—clearly a combination with spending potential.

Therefore, the activated armor bowed to welcome them and invited the three into the room.

The witchcraft general store was very spacious. Apart from a few pillars, there were not many walls that obstructed the view. The interior space was divided by a counter in the center of the room and cabinets around it.

Citizens with considerable financial means strolled among the shelves displaying magic scrolls and potions, pondering what they should acquire for self-defense.

On the left side of the hall were several summoned elemental creatures, seemingly a way for the shop owner to demonstrate his advanced spellcasting abilities.

At the counter, Ivy and her two companions encountered an unexpected figure—Tifflin Roland, the mage apprentice of Lorokan.

Sensing someone approaching, Roland quickly looked up from behind the counter and greeted the customer with his most standard smile: "Welcome to the Wizardry General Store. Here you'll find the best magical shopping experience in Baldur's Gate. Would you like me to help you..."

He stopped because he saw Ivy's face.

"Master Doom! What brings you here?" Roland exclaimed in surprise.

Before Ivy could answer, he spread his arms and spun around behind the counter again: "Look at me! New robes, and they were given to me by Master Lorokan! He's the owner of the Ramakis Tower in the Upper City, a generous and magnanimous mentor! I live there now too."

“Congratulations.” Ivy nodded at him. “I believe you will become an excellent spellcaster. Where are Leah and Karl?”

“Oh! Master Lorokan doesn’t allow anyone unrelated to magic to enter the tower. I’m still trying to persuade him. We can’t stay in the city for long with the little gold we have left, but…” Roland smiled at Ivy again, “As long as I can achieve something in magic, everything will be alright soon! Just between you and me, I’m preparing a paper on the feasibility of shaping magic, and I’ll have some results soon! If it can be published in a journal…”

(End of this chapter)