Gazing down at the twelve newly minted dragon-blessed paladins below, Cassius exhaled a plume of sulfurous smoke and offered a casual compliment:
"Fried, your eye is not bad at all."
After all, as mortals, anyone capable of absorbing the red dragon's volatile bloodline without bursting was easily one in a hundred. For all twelve candidates to succeed this time had far exceeded his expectations.
Fried bowed his head and replied in an even voice, "To receive your praise is my honor."
He understood very well that his sole duty was to find and train Dragon Oath Paladins for Cassius. Having once served the enemy as the Black Lion Knight, and lacking the deep mutual interests that tied Mezrolash to the king, even with the absolute suppression of the bloodline bond, Cassius would never feel comfortable placing full authority over the Dragon Oath Hall in his hands to make him its direct master.
Fried was therefore shrewd enough to proactively surrender power to the kingdom, deliberately downplaying his own influence and focusing entirely on cultivating the candidates.
Cassius gave a pleased nod, then turned his gaze to Anthony.
"You shall become the Dragon Oath Hall's 'Twelve Dragon Retainers.'"
"Anthony, I think highly of you. To remain conscious throughout the transformation is no small feat. As a boon for your courage and perseverance, you shall stand at the head of the Dragon Retainer Knights, and... you may also choose your own honorary title."
The boy who had emerged from that cellar had now completely conquered his inner demons, becoming a steadfast champion of the kingdom's order.
"Master, I wish to be named 'Judgment'—to enforce the kingdom's order with an iron wrist, and burn all who dare disrupt it to ashes in raging flame."
He knelt on one knee, his expression fervent, his eyes burning like roaring flames.
"Granted," Cassius said calmly, turning his eyes back to Fried.
Fried caught the hint at once. Stepping forward, he said respectfully, "Master, I shall take them to begin their duties in the Dragon Oath Hall. We will not disturb your rest any longer and take our leave."
The red dragon gave a slight nod.
Fried and Anthony departed, each slinging two unconscious Dragon Oath Paladins over their shoulders in a rather comical fashion. Tiefling attendants, having received their orders, entered the hall to help carry the remaining unconscious youths away.
Cassius narrowed his eyes, watching their retreating backs with amusement.
*Judgment, is it? Quite the ambition.*
These twelve youths, personally bestowed with Cassius's boon, would become the future leaders of the Dragon Oath Hall, training more Dragon Oath Paladins for the Kingdom of Cinders.
The bloodline seeds within them, bound to the red dragon's power, could also serve as the source to transform dragonblooded retainers by actively bestowing boons upon mortals. Of course, the effect would be far less potent than Cassius's personal blessing, yielding a diluted bloodline.
Yet within a few years, using them as catalysts, hundreds or thousands of dragon-blessed paladins could be raised, forming a crucial pillar of the Kingdom of Cinders' might.
Unlike the Redscale Conquerors, who operated primarily as aerial scouts specializing in reconnaissance and airstrikes, the dragon-blessed paladins functioned more like heavy infantry, suited to exert overwhelming force in frontal warfare.
When a legion of dragon-blessed paladins marched across a battlefield like an indestructible moving fortress, their defensive auras and flame auras radiating in unison, it would be a nightmare no enemy would ever wish to face.
Cassius spent a little more time studying spells before weariness finally overtook him.
"I should finally be able to get some good sleep now."
"I'll have Trump informed shortly to reinforce the magical wards. It's time for my next hibernation."
Yawning once more, patterns like flowing magma rippled across Cassius's body, and the smell of sulfur grew heavier.
Suddenly, Cassius froze, the scaled crests above his golden eyes knitting together slightly.
As a sorcerer capable of bending reality through sheer will, the red dragon distinctly sensed a subtle disturbance in the Weave. It felt as though an unseen pair of eyes were peering at him, an invasive sensation that grated on his nerves.
"Another divination spell?"
"Heh... truly asking for death."
Cassius laughed out of sheer fury, intensely irritated, seized by an urge to incinerate whoever had disturbed his rest into charred cinders.
Although the spell's footprint was almost imperceptible, the authority of his Kingdom Domain allowed him to detect everything clearly. He could even faintly trace the spell back to its source—deep in the dense mountain forest just outside the royal palace, merely a few li away.
A ferocious grin spread across the red dragon's snout as his wings slowly unfurled.
"Then let me see for myself—who dares disturb my slumber?"
...
Outside the royal palace, in Kalieba Forest.
Due to its proximity to the Steel Dragonwing Palace, and having once served as a gathering point for rebels and a hideout for Northlands nobles fleeing Northwind Keep, this woodland had effectively become the palace's back garden. Wyverns and hobgoblins patrolled it regularly, searching for any unidentified travelers passing through.
At that moment, rustling sounds and hushed whispers rose from the trees.
A sharp-eared female elf cloaked in emerald green murmured, "Richard, be careful. Stop using magic to scry on him. According to the Harpers' intel, he is a spellcaster capable of high-circle magic."
The man addressed as Richard turned around and patted the elf on the shoulder, looking entirely relaxed.
His ears differed from an ordinary human's, and his features were notably refined—unmistakable signs of a half-elf.
"Apis, you're being overly cautious. I know what I'm doing.
"Sorcerers are merely barbarians among spellcasters, and this is a spell scroll personally crafted by Master Cavina. Even the vile Red Wizards couldn't detect this spell. A muscle-brained red dragon? Hah, even less chance."
With that, he refocused his mind on the scrying spell.
His name was Richard Siegel, a moderately renowned ranger within the Fadlan Empire, a Fey Wanderer blessed by an Archfey, and a veteran member of the Harpers.
He had accepted a mission from the Harpers marked "extremely dangerous," journeying north to Anzeta alongside the elven assassin Apis to investigate the rapidly rising evil power: the Kingdom of Cinders.
"For some reason, I have a bad feeling. Trust me, it's an assassin's intuition," Apis warned grimly.
"Wait—"
Richard whipped his head around, panic creeping into his eyes.
"That red dragon... seems to have spotted us."
Apis urged frantically, "Then what are you waiting for? Use your magic to get us out of here! The Harpers sent us to gather intelligence, not to slay a dragon!"
Richard looked down with a bitter smile. "I'm sorry. Perhaps I really was mistaken."
"Apis, haven't you noticed? The Weave here is being locked down... I'm afraid we can't escape."
"Fool!" Apis cursed through gritted teeth in Elvish, tightening her grip on her daggers.
Chapter 228