Facing everyone's gaze, Link smiled faintly and said, "This is a matter between you and the Beckman family. I'm representing the Flamel family now, this has nothing to do with me. So, I'm just here to watch the show this time."
"But aren't you the Beckman family's heir..."
Little Schwartz frowned in surprise as he spoke, but before he could finish his sentence, he caught sight of old Beckman's bitter and awkward expression.
Schwartz's tightly furrowed brows relaxed, and a look of realization appeared on his face.
He thought he understood now.
The heir old Beckman had chosen was indeed an outstanding one.
But the more talented a person was, the higher their price tended to be.
This Link Flamel acting so detached and uninvolved now, most likely it was because he and old Beckman hadn't yet settled the extra conditions for inheriting the Beckman family.
Once he understood that, Schwartz obediently shut his mouth.
The others present might not have pieced it together as clearly as Schwartz had, but most still kept silent.
No one pried further, and no one tried to drive out this "outsider."
After all, the Flamel family he represented was at its height in England right now. And truthfully, plenty of people were secretly paying attention to this assassination operation. One more observer like Link made no difference, there was no need to offend someone like him over such a trivial thing.
Of course, that was how most people thought. The old cowboy, Lange, clearly didn't agree.
After hearing Link's indifferent reply, Lange calmly stubbed out his cigarette on the meeting table, then laughed loudly and said, "You Brits are always such cowards!"
"Back when we dominated Europe, you loved hiding in your shells, refusing to take a side. And now, after all these years, you're still the same! What's wrong? Is sitting on the fence some kind of fine national tradition of yours?"
At those words, everyone, including the old witch from the International Confederation of Wizards, looked rather unpleasant.
They all knew that the reason they'd worked so hard all this time was to make people forget their past as Grindelwald's followers.
Yet Lange had just brought it up again, right in front of an outsider.
It was humiliating.
"Are you trying to declare war on the Flamel family, or even on the entire British magical community?"
Link narrowed his eyes slightly, rubbing his wand as he said, "Lange, do you actually think you're something special? I can tell you very clearly, I am a recipient of the Order of Merlin, Second Class."
"My Flamel family has long maintained friendly relations with our current Minister of Magic, Wizengamot members, the British representative to the International Confederation of Wizards, Mr. Fudge, and even with Dumbledore himself."
"So tell me, what do you think would happen if I told them there's still a certain Saint remnant named Lange hiding out in Germany?"
"You damn Brit!"
Lange's face turned dark. He leapt to his feet, reaching for his wand.
Old Hartmann, who sat beside him, quickly lunged forward to grab him, while the rest of the Despicables Alliance members hurriedly tried to calm him down.
They knew very well that with Link's influence, everything he'd just said could easily become reality.
They didn't care whether Lange lived or died.
What did matter was that if a purge really began, they'd be dragged into it too.
For a while, the entire tent erupted into chaos.
Whether Lange was just putting on a show or genuinely couldn't break free from Hartmann's hold, he ended up struggling in place, unable to draw his wand.
Then, a gray-white beam of light suddenly shot out, forcibly separating the members of the Despicables Alliance.
Immediately after, a displeased voice came from the corner, the voice of the overseeing old witch, "Stop wasting my time! I didn't come here to listen to you all argue. Get back to the topic already!"
"You…"
Beckman glared at her with bloodshot eyes, full of indignation.
But in the end, he sat back down without another word, he might bare his fangs at Link, but he would never dare do so to her. Because that old witch represented the entire International Confederation of Wizards.
Seeing that the show was over, Link sneered but didn't pursue the matter further.
After all, he considered himself a magnanimous person, he wouldn't waste energy being angry at someone who'd be dead by tomorrow.
"That's better. We're all on the same side; no need to make things so tense. Let's get back to business, yes, back to business!" Old Hartmann said with a forced laugh.
"Beckman, since you came late, let me brief you on our current plan."
"As of now, we've decided to set out for Nurmengard Prison tomorrow morning. The plan's mostly the same as before, the Kugel family and Miss Schwartz, as non-combatants, will go first under the pretext of a visitation."
"If that fails, then we, the combat members, will move in and handle the rest."
"Oh, right, Mr. Flamel, since you're only here as a bystander, you won't be joining us inside the tower this time, right?"
Hartmann glanced at Link, and once Link nodded, he continued, "As for personnel, our main breacher will still be Mr. Lange. The rest will include the ten followers you three families brought, plus the fifty combat wizards my Hartmann family is providing."
"Phew!"
"Lastly, I want to ask, does anyone have any better ideas for our combat strategy? Life is precious, after all; I don't want to see anyone get hurt."
His tone was heavy and bitter.
And understandably so.
All the other families had contributed only token support, barely sending any men. It was clear they wanted the Hartmanns to be the cannon fodder.
Yet in front of that overseer witch, he couldn't suggest reducing his forces.
So, all he could do was hope someone would come up with a solid tactic to minimize casualties.
Unfortunately, the Despicables Alliance really didn't have any brilliant tacticians among them, if they did, they wouldn't have ended up being toyed with by the International Confederation in the first place.
So in the end, Hartmann was met only with silence.
His smile faltered, replaced by a dark, stormy expression.
Link found it amusing and asked teasingly, "Mr. Hartmann, those fifty combat wizards you brought, what level of strength are we talking about?"
"Most are around the level of standard enforcers," Hartmann said gloomily. "A few are at Auror level, but no more than five."
"In that case,"
Link said lazily, crossing one leg over the other, "why not just destroy Nurmengard directly? Sure, the prison's made with anti-magic materials and protected by defensive spells, so attacking the structure might be slow. But once it's breached, you can force Grindelwald into open ground, which would be a far more favorable position for us, wouldn't it?"
"Yes! Yes, that's brilliant, Mr. Flamel!"
Hartmann's eyes lit up as he slapped his thigh in excitement.
From the look on his face, he looked like he might jump up and hug Link any second.
If they followed Link's plan, his men might not suffer any losses.
The others, like little Schwartz, quickly echoed the sentiment.
They weren't great at coming up with strategies, but they sure were good at going along with the tide.
But just as the room was filled with cheerful agreement, the old witch in the corner suddenly spoke coldly, "No. You are absolutely forbidden from destroying Nurmengard Prison. Furthermore, when you storm the tower, you must be extremely careful with your aim and spell strength, you must ensure the prison's structure remains intact!"
The previously lively tent fell instantly silent.
Everyone stared at the old witch in shock.
Hartmann, furious, demanded, "Why!?"
"Because Nurmengard, as the most notorious prison of the Grindelwald era and now the site of his confinement, is an important milestone in the Confederation's history of fighting dark forces. We will never allow you to damage it for any reason!" she said firmly, staring him down.
"Is that reason good enough for you?"
"Excuse! That's a damn excuse! You just can't stand to see us succeed! You want us to bleed as much as possible!"
Hartmann roared like an enraged bear.
This time, no one stopped him. Everyone else just sat in silence, faces gloomy.
The witch's excuse was too flimsy, and it filled them with a bitter sense of shared doom.
People like little Schwartz, who loved to overthink things, even began to suspect that the Confederation intended to use this operation to wipe them all out.
"Say whatever you want," the old witch said coolly, "but let me remind you, the Confederation's mission must be completed. Otherwise…"
She left the rest unsaid, rose to her feet, and swiftly left the tent.
Her departure only fueled Hartmann's rage further.
Unable to confront her directly, he took out his fury on the furniture, smashing everything in sight.
The meeting ended in complete disarray.
Later, back in a tent prepared by Beckman's old castle retainers, Beckman's earlier look of worry and distress vanished, replaced by excitement.
He quickly cast a soundproofing charm around the tent and said to Link, "Everything's ready, right?"
"Of course," Link replied, lounging comfortably in a chair and loosening his tie.
"I've already sent the coordinates to Old Kliet and Snape. They should be in position around Nurmengard by now."
"And your performance today wasn't bad either, I don't think anyone suspected a thing. Tomorrow, just follow the plan. Go into the tower with Lange's group, and once you're inside, we'll have Snape and the others take out the outside forces before linking up with you."
Beckman didn't mind Link's casual tone. He nodded, pacing back and forth before finally stopping, eyes flashing coldly as he said through clenched teeth, "The only problem now is that damned Confederation witch! She definitely won't let us stop Lange and his lot or ruin the Confederation's plan. Should we… just get rid of her too?"
At that, Link frowned.
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he poured a glass of German Meteor Dry Red wine, slid it across the table to Beckman, and said slowly, "You're too worked up. Calm down."
Beckman downed the wine in one gulp, then stared at Link with bloodshot eyes.
Seeing that he still didn't get it, Link shook his head.
"We can't touch her," he said flatly.
Beckman's eyes widened.
"Why not? She'll report everything we do to the Confederation! By then..."
Link cut him off.
"So what?"
Beckman froze.
Link went on, "I know Dumbledore too well, and you must know Grindelwald. Those two might fight and feud, but do you really think Dumbledore would sit back and watch Grindelwald be murdered?"
"I can guarantee this assassination plot was cooked up by a few individuals within the Confederation, personal business, nothing official. Dumbledore definitely doesn't know."
"So what if that old witch reports back? The one behind this won't dare make it public."
"He's terrified of Dumbledore's retaliation."
"That's exactly why he's using you, former Saints, to do the dirty work!"
"You don't seriously think that after it's over, you'll be free and untouchable, do you?"
"He's just using you to take Dumbledore's wrath for him."
"From the very beginning, his plan was to wipe you all out!"
Beckman's eyes grew bloodier, his fists clenched tight as emotion overtook him.
But in the end, he let go, his voice low and heavy with sorrow.
"What a brilliant scheme. How could they do this? Merlin, they're the most despicable people in the world. To them, someone like me… I'm no more than an ant, they can crush me whenever they please."
He looked at Link again, eyes now shining faintly.
"Link, you're different. You have the wisdom and power to stand against them. You'll achieve great things, far greater than what we ever did!"
"I know that already," Link shot him a glance. "You should focus on resting up. Tomorrow's going to be a tough fight."
Beckman nodded and muttered, "Yes… I need to get into the right mindset. Tomorrow, I'll slaughter every last one of those bastards!"
"And then… I'll ask Lord Grindelwald myself, how did he lose to Dumbledore? He was so strong… he wouldn't have abandoned us… he was a great leader… our ideals…"
Listening to Beckman's increasingly deranged muttering, Link just shook his head and went back to his room.
He had no interest in that pile of outdated nonsense.
And if he had to hear the story, he'd rather hear it from Grindelwald himself, at least that way, he might earn some skill points.
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