As the heavy metal gates slowly ground open, Mezrolash strode into the great hall. Sinking onto one knee before the dais, he spoke in a low, resonant voice:
"Master, Nocturne has obtained the latest intelligence.
"The Principality of Bosque has spent a fortune hiring a legendary adventuring party from the south—the Crimson Edge. This party is renowned across the Fadlan Empire for their remarkable efficiency in completing missions. They have slain thirteen dragons, and even..."
Mezrolash paused briefly, cautiously glancing up. Only upon seeing that Cassius's expression remained calm did he proceed:
"...including a very old red dragon."
"Oh?"
"It seems that old lion has truly spared no expense."
Cassius stroked his chin as he spoke.
A red dragon of the very old age category was a creature of immense might and fury, possessing a base Challenge Rating as high as 20. Even he would not take such an adversary lightly. And any adventuring party capable of slaying a very old red dragon was certainly no ordinary rabble.
Cassius's interest was piqued at once.
"Is there any other information regarding this party?"
"Master, please forgive us, but our operatives in the south are still far too few and our footing is shallow. We could only uncover the most basic information committed to paper."
The red dragon inclined his head slightly, signaling him to continue.
"The party consists of five members, all presumed to be legendary-tier elites. Their composition includes a paladin, a barbarian, a wizard, a rogue, and a cleric—a remarkably balanced team."
The tiefling crushed a crystal in his hand, and the illusion of a burly man clad in blood-red heavy armor materialized in midair.
"This is the leader of the Crimson Edge, the paladin Dex Flamegold. He worships Amaunator, the god of law and the sun, and once slew an old blue dragon single-handedly. We have not yet confirmed his sacred oath, but based on his past deeds, he is very likely a blackguard sworn to an Oath of Vengeance."
Immediately after, the image shifted to reveal a full-figured woman draped in white vestments.
"This is Ingrid Garces, a legendary cleric and an honorary bishop of the Church of Amaunator. Given her faith, she can only be a cleric of the Light or Order domain."
The previous illusion dissolved, replaced by a towering man bare to the waist, his torso covered in crimson tribal tattoos.
"Lano, a legendary barbarian hailing from the nomadic tribes along the borders of Fadlan. He once defeated an entire tribe of giants in hand-to-hand combat.
"As for the remaining two, our southern scouts have yet to uncover reliable details. Information on that wizard is extraordinarily expensive, and he is rumored to have ties to the enigmatic Tower of Time. The rogue is an expert in disguise and concealment, rarely showing himself in the open."
Mezrolash gathered up the crystal shards, slipped them into his satchel, and waited quietly for the red dragon's orders.
"You have done well."
"Tsk, tsk... what a lavish roster. But just how much did that old lion spend?"
Cassius marveled softly, unable to resist asking.
Mezrolash answered without hesitation: "To our knowledge, the Crimson Edge's base fee is as high as sixty thousand gold coins. To hire them against a being as... exalted and mighty as yourself, the price doubles at the very least. Conservatively, it would reach a hundred and twenty thousand gold coins.
"According to our intelligence, that equals three years of Bosque's entire tax revenue. Coupled with their military expenditures in recent years, their treasury must be all but drained."
Cassius was thoroughly pleased with that answer.
"What an extravagant gamble. Does the Principality of Bosque truly intend to fight to the bitter end in a desperate last stand?"
A smirk curled at the corner of the red dragon's snout.
"Yet the nobles of the other northern realms may not share his fervor. Having tasted the sweet profits of acting as our compradors, they might just sell us the very rope and gallows intended for their necks.
"War is exhausting and brutal. Why bother when fleecing their own subjects and serving as middlemen is so much more lucrative?
"With Nocturne stirring trouble in the shadows, the nations of the Northlands will remain nothing more than a heap of loose sand."
Mezrolash immediately chimed in, "Master, the rebels of the north cannot withstand a single blow before your kingdom. Their order is as fragile as paper."
Cassius nodded once more. "Even so, we must keep a watchful eye on aid from the south. The Fadlan Empire possesses power far surpassing any faction in the Northlands. Anything they casually spare could tilt the balance across Anzeta. The Great Anzetta Waste... is still too small, too remote.
"Keep tracking that legendary party. Report any development to me immediately."
"Yes, Master," Mezrolash replied respectfully before taking his leave under the watchful gaze of the tiefling guards.
Cassius slowly closed his eyes and relaxed his massive frame, seeking respite from days of unrelenting tension. He began the meditative practices recorded in ancient tomes, an effective way to temporarily ward off the chaotic impulses churning deep within his mind.
Yet a tiefling's voice echoed from outside the throne room, interrupting his meditation.
"Your Majesty, Lord Trump requests an audience."
"Send him in as well."
The red dragon opened his eyes with a trace of impatience. His gaze seemed to pierce the massive iron doors, looking beyond the borders of the Kingdom of Cinders, past the Great Anzetta Waste, and across the vast expanse of the Feanso Continent.
"Hah, troublesome times never end."
***
Inside the ducal estate of Stravburg, Principality of Bosque.
Grand Duke Leo paced anxiously back and forth.
"Trischka, when on earth will they arrive?
"Our scouts have already spotted traces of those Redscale Conquerors along the border! Damn it all, that red dragon has awakened! He could breach the principality at any moment—he could single-handedly reduce Stravburg to rubble!"
Unlike the northern nobles clinging to their illusions of peace, Leo Bosque understood all too well that no one in the Northlands could stop Cassius now. That dragon could descend at a moment's notice and lay waste to everything. Leo had to secure outside aid as swiftly as possible, no matter how steep the price.
"Your Grace, they will be here soon. I am still attempting to contact them."
Trischka wore a helpless expression, repeatedly fiddling with a blood-red token shaped like a crest.
Suddenly, the space around them warped, twisted, and shattered without warning.
Grand Duke Leo instinctively gripped the sword at his hip—a reflex born of countless battles.
"What is that—"
The nearby guards also grew tense, hastily leveling their spears.
A dark planar fissure opened in the ducal hall, and several figures stepped out from within.
The man in the lead was burly, clad in heavy blood-red armor. In his left hand, he held a shield inlaid with dragon scales, while a faintly glowing longsword rested at his hip. A massive greathelm concealed his features completely—this was none other than Dex Flamegold.
Seeing these uninvited guests barge into his estate without announcement, Grand Duke Leo frowned slightly, though he still offered a measured reminder:
"Using teleportation magic to enter another man's manor is hardly courteous."
Dex Flamegold paid him no mind. He merely drew the longsword from his scabbard before speaking flatly:
"Northern etiquette means nothing to us. We did not come here to be your guests. All you need to do is provide us with information on that red dragon."
Beside him, the barbarian Lano added impatiently, "And shut your babbling, foul mouth."
Grand Duke Leo froze for a moment.
It had been a very long time since anyone had dared treat him with such blatant disrespect.
Only then did Leo Bosque realize that these were legendary adventurers from Fadlan, while he was merely a duke within the borders of Anzeta.
The social graces of the Northlands held no sway over them. Their sole purpose in coming was to fulfill their contract and collect their gold.
Trischka could only offer a bitter smile, shaking his head in quiet resignation.
Chapter 287