Cassius teleported Misha to the guesthouse within Northwind Keep, where maids would attend to her bathing and change of clothes—though they were not necessarily human, and could just as easily be yuan-ti, dragonborn, or even half-orcs.
The present Kingdom of Cinders had pushed racial diversity to its absolute extreme.
"Trump, come in."
"Yes, Master."
Only then did Trump, who had been waiting outside for quite some time, step through the doorway and kneel respectfully before the dais steps.
"Master, did the human I brought this time meet your satisfaction?"
"Very well indeed. Beyond my expectations."
"Rise," Cassius commanded mildly.
"I am glad it pleases you. To receive your approval, Master, is my greatest honor."
Trump stood up slowly, a broad grin plastered across his ugly face.
Little did the ogre archmage know that his title as the foremost spellcaster of the Kingdom of Cinders would soon face a severe challenge—and that his "challenger" was none other than the very human he had personally brought.
Cassius continued, "I want the Ministry of Magic to commit all its resources to giving Misha a systematic magical education. Furthermore, erect a high tower for her near Northwind Keep. Call it..."
He paused, hesitating for a moment before choosing to honor the original trajectory of fate:
"...the Tower of Sinful Fire."
"Yes, Master. Your subordinate will carry out the task with all his might and never disappoint you," Trump hastened to bow his head and reply.
He did not ask why, for reasons did not matter; all he needed to do was obey the red dragon's will.
Yet even for Trump, a faint flicker of surprise crossed behind his lowered eyes.
To make His Majesty invest such resources—even erecting a personal wizard tower—the value and importance of this human girl he had brought back had to be far greater than he had imagined.
Trump tightened his grip on his staff, turning the thought over in his mind.
Cassius paid no mind to Trump's private calculations. Slowly closing his eyes, he asked nonchalantly, "It has been nearly two months now. How does the situation in the Northlands stand? Have they been thoroughly purged?"
"Reporting to Master: Marshal Duoluo's strategy has proven very successful, and those Starfallen have indeed been remarkably efficient. We have already brought nearly eighty percent of the Northlands' territory under our control, and we have surrounded the few remaining holdouts that still offer stubborn resistance."
Cassius looked slightly intrigued.
"Oh? There are still people daring to resist even now?"
Trump answered, "It is Count Jacob Rosa of the Duchy of Swino. He gathered all the nearby noble factions in an attempt to launch a counteroffensive against the kingdom, and even managed to reclaim a few cities.
"However, the kingdom's forces reacted swiftly. Marshal Duoluo redeployed troops at once and has now completely surrounded them. In your words, Master, these remnants of the northern nobility are already 'turtles in a jar.'"
Cassius turned the name over in his mind.
"Jacob Rosa, is it..."
"Interesting."
Dusty memories were awakened once more.
Count Jacob Rosa, the most esteemed general of the Duchy of Swino, had rendered illustrious service in the war against demons, revered by the people of the Northlands as the "Great Wall of the North."
In Cassius's past life, he had also been an important allied NPC for players, forming an alliance of righteousness with them that spawned an entire series of side quests.
Noticing Cassius's contemplation, Trump stepped forward immediately. "Master, is that human of any use to you?
"If you have need of him, I will contact Duoluo at once and have him capture Jacob Rosa alive to bring before you."
"No. Kill him," Cassius said calmly, shaking his head.
Though Jacob Rosa was a powerful extraordinary warrior, he was already nearing fifty, possessing little growth potential from Cassius's perspective.
Furthermore, he was a stalwart champion of the old Northlands order, having become the leader and spiritual symbol of the rebels. He had to be utterly destroyed, both in body and spirit, to kill the chicken and warn the monkeys—striking terror into rebel factions throughout Anzeta.
Thus, Cassius added, "Additionally... give him a humiliating death. Do not let him die with any dignity."
"Yes, as you command," Trump hastened to reply.
His eyes darted, and without a second thought, the ogre went on to add, "Master, should your subordinate have the Propaganda Department throw some mud on him and fabricate some sensational stories—painting Jacob Rosa as the archetype of a wicked noble guilty of every atrocity, rape, and pillage?
"For instance, those scandalous tales about young boys—we could pin those right on his head.
"That way, we can thoroughly ruin his reputation, dragging the northern nobles' last idol into the mud and severing their spiritual foundation at the root.
"Once the supporters of the northern nobility lose their hero, they won't even think of resisting anymore."
The ogre grew increasingly thrilled as he spoke, puffs of white smoke even venting from his mouth by the end—truly a "charitable, benevolent fellow."
Cassius could not help but chuckle, musing that this ogre had truly grasped the very essence of journalism.
And self-taught, no less.
Out loud, however, he offered praise: "Very good. You have considered this thoroughly.
"Proceed with your plan.
"Snuff out their resistance completely, and teach them that history... is written by the victors."
Trump's face once again filled with a fawning grin. "You flatter me, Master! It is all merely what I have gleaned from your profound and boundless words.
"Besides... I have only grasped an insignificant fraction of the surface, nowhere near comparable to your ocean of wisdom."
Dragon and ogre looked at each other and smiled.
And so, within a handful of words, the tragic fate of Jacob Rosa—the "Great Wall of the North" in Cassius's past life—was sealed without his knowledge.
One could not help but sigh at the fickle whims of the gods of fate.
Jacob Rosa, once a heroic figure, was now reduced to the leader of a rebel force.
He was soon to face encirclement and annihilation, to be dragged to the guillotine for a public trial, and to be saddled with notorious infamy in death, reviled for ten thousand years.
***
"The death of Jacob Rosa was a hero's elegy, a sorrowful roar, the melting of the Northlands' last remnant of snow. He died standing, composed and unbowed—and by no means in the manner slandered by certain individuals."
—*Secret History of Anzeta: The End of the North*, Duke Luton
***
"Luton Seeger had already fled south back then and was not present at the scene. How could he know that Jacob Rosa was not stoned to death by enraged serfs upon surrendering?
"Given that Luton Seeger had such experiences himself, along with Jacob Rosa's perverse penchant for minors, I have reason to suspect that in his youth, Luton Seeger also shared some sordid relations with the count.
"Otherwise, why would he jump out in such a hurry to defend Jacob Rosa?"
—*Miscellaneous Records of the Secret History of Fiansor*, an anonymous historian
Chapter 365