The Principality of Bosque had not merely sent an envoy; they had dispatched an entire high-ranking delegation, complete with historians, bards, court wizards, and more.
Leading them was none other than Count Trischka—a consummate diplomat who had spent years serving as an envoy to the Holy Fadlan Empire.
His title was merely an honorary one without a real fief, which served both as an acknowledgment of his outstanding diplomatic achievements and as a symbol of the esteem Bosque accorded to the realms he visited.
Led into the hall by guards, the handsome Count Trischka was dressed in splendid court attire. He bowed deeply in greeting, his manner as refreshing as a gentle spring breeze, flawlessly demonstrating centuries of Northern noble etiquette.
"Greetings, esteemed Lord of Cinders."
"I bring you the regards of Duke Leo."
Cassius remained sprawled across the Iron Throne, looking down at the envoy without immediately offering a reply.
The air instantly froze.
The guards throughout the hall tightened their grip on their spears.
Though Trischka appeared composed and maintained an untroubled expression, his slightly trembling hands and averted gaze betrayed his inner tension.
Those behind him in the delegation fared far worse.
Despite having mentally prepared himself long beforehand, the historian Mohr, a man past fifty, turned utterly pale upon facing this twenty-meter-long dragon. Cold sweat beaded continuously across his forehead, and he nearly fainted, only remaining upright with the support of an attendant.
Yelina, the renowned court bard known as the "Flower of Straff," who could sing and play instruments with poise before galas of thousands, was now white with terror, and even let out an involuntary cry of fright.
Cassius found it somewhat amusing.
The red dragon narrowed his eyes and finally spoke, his slow, deep voice breaking the heavy silence.
"Envoys from Bosque, out of courtesy, I would gladly return your greeting."
"However, your Duke only just orchestrated an assassination attempt against me. How am I to be certain that you are not simply another pack of ill-intentioned assassins?"
Those words sent the hearts of the delegation leaping straight into their throats, hammering furiously against their ribs.
Such a perilous accusation drew cold sweat from Trischka's brow as well, but this contingency had already been accounted for in their plans.
Adhering to his rehearsed lines, he did his best to keep his tone calm as he replied, "Honorable Lord of Cinders, our Principality of Bosque had no part in that operation, nor were we even aware of it. It was entirely the Principality of Norton acting on its own authority.
"And as you are well aware, they have already received their due punishment.
"As for those Lionheart Knights, they were stripped of their ranks within Bosque long ago. Their actions were entirely their own, and we possessed no authority to restrain them..."
"Enough."
Before Trischka could finish, Cassius cut him off.
"Envoy from Bosque, there is no need to put on an act before me. Everyone present understands full well what transpired, and I see right through your Duke's petty schemes."
A sinister grin curled the red dragon's lips, the horn-like scales above his brow ridges lifting slightly, sending a chill down the spines of the entire delegation.
"Even so, this time I welcome you as so-called 'observers.' For only when you see the disparity in power with your own eyes will you cause me less trouble behind my back."
He exhaled a breath thick with the stench of sulfur.
"After all... a fly is easily crushed, but having it buzz incessantly by one's ear is terribly annoying."
Hearing Cassius's contemptuous comparison, Trischka felt a surge of indignation, yet dared not reveal it.
After a moment's hesitation, he mustered his courage and spoke in a tone neither obsequious nor arrogant: "Lord Cassius, I acknowledge that your might is immense—far beyond what thousands of men like me combined could ever equal.
"However..."
He slowly raised his head, fighting to suppress his instinctual terror as he looked directly into the red dragon's golden pupils.
"Are you perhaps being somewhat arrogant?"
The moment those words left his mouth, the delegation behind Trischka was seized with utter dread, terrified that the red dragon would erupt in fury on the spot and incinerate them all to ash with a single breath.
Yet Cassius did not lash out in rage as they feared. Instead, he studied Trischka's eyes with great interest.
"Why do you say that?"
Hearing the dragon's inquiry, Trischka forced himself to remain steady and continued, "Truth be told, Anzeta is ultimately a backwater. Everything here is like a desert—be it wealth, culture, or power.
"Over the past decade or so, I have visited the Fadlan Empire to the south, and I have traveled to the Free Trade Confederation in the west. I have seen lands flowing with milk and honey, gazed upon the sea-like treasuries of the emperor, and beheld Sun Warriors who walk the earth like demigods. The prosperity of those realms is beyond anything the people of the Northlands can fathom."
As he listened, Cassius finally grasped the envoy's hidden objective—diverting the calamity southward. The man intended to exploit a red dragon's innate greed to lure this dangerous beast into someone else's domain.
*A clever idea, but with my current strength, going south would just mean getting pummeled by all sorts of powerhouse figures in turn,* Cassius mused to himself.
The red dragon narrowed his eyes, offering no direct answer, and merely said in a flat voice, "I have grown tired of you Bosque folk and your glib tongue. I shall arrange for you to travel to the Throat of Trier to observe this battle.
"Be sure to record every detail, and recount it to that Duke of yours when you return.
"Perhaps it will persuade him to play fewer petty tricks."
With that, Cassius summoned his hobgoblin guards to escort the envoys out of the Council Hall.
Mohr, Yelina, and the others had long reached their limit under the crushing pressure within the hall. Hearing Cassius's dismissal felt like nothing short of an imperial pardon.
They let out long sighs of relief, thinking they no longer had to fear being roasted alive by the capricious red dragon.
Count Trischka, however, remained deep in thought.
Once the delegation reached the courtyard outside the hall, old Mohr pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the dripping sweat from his brow, unable to hold back his grievances. "Trischka, you were far too reckless this time!
"If you had provoked that red dragon, every last one of us would have been buried here!"
Yelina hugged her arms tightly, lingering terror in her voice. "It was terrifying... exactly like a guillotine blade hanging overhead, ready to drop at any second."
"Indeed. Thank the gods we made it out alive and unharmed."
Trischka, however, furrowed his brow, gazing back at the tightly shut metal gates with grave concern.
"If he were truly so easily provoked, it would only prove he is just an ordinary red dragon—capricious, burning and pillaging at whim, consumed by boundless greed.
"Though such a creature may run rampant for a time, its existence never lasts; sooner or later, it would be eliminated by the great figures who maintain order.
"Yet he did not react that way.
"I believe he is by no means an academic textbook example of a brutal, violent red dragon, but something far more cunning and terrifying.
"Perhaps... he truly will upend the rule of the Northlands entirely."
Chapter 175