In the warm chambers of Crystal Radiance Palace, the crackling flames in the fireplace could not dispel the gloom in Rodney XVIII's brow.
The king tugged at the taut jeweled collar pin around his neck and tossed the plan for attacking Paradise Basin onto the low table covered with gold thread patterns. The shadow of the mortar still lingered in his mind.
"Relying on Northwest Bay …" he murmured. Paul Greiman's Cannon could indeed breach the Veblen Family's fortress, but every time they sought help from the Northwest, it was like leaving a mark on the kingdom's authority. Those rifles, cannons, and even "Golden Fertilizer" fertilizer had already allowed Northwest Bay's influence to permeate every corner of the royal domain. Now, even sieges had to rely on the other side's weapons. How much say would the royal family have in front of Paul in the future?
But without mortars, the fortress of Paradise Basin, surrounded by mountains on three sides, would be an impregnable fortress, and the Veblen Family's separatist regime would forever remain a thorn in the side of southeastern Aldor.
Rodney got up and paced back and forth, recalling Rupert's report on the army's food reserves and Count Merlin's mention of the guano mines. His thoughts kept circling back to the intractable problem of "dependence." Until his gaze swept across the map of the kingdom hanging on the wall, and his eyes stopped on the south of the kingdom, he suddenly stopped, and a name that had almost been forgotten suddenly crashed into his mind.
Dirk Doyle.
The wizard who had been secretly kept by Giles, and his group of companions who were equally skilled in magic potions and strange spells. After Giles' downfall, these people were not executed, but were placed under house arrest in the tower on the west side of the palace. Rodney XVIII was both wary of their magic and felt that keeping them might be useful someday.
The king remembered that Giles's army was able to fight against overwhelming odds because of the magical potions developed by Dirk that could temporarily boost combat power. Since they could manipulate potions, perhaps they also had magical means to deal with fortresses.
This thought was like a ray of light, dispelling the fog in the king's heart.
He immediately raised his hand to summon his attendant, his voice finally showing some excitement: "Go to the west tower and bring Dirk Doyle to see me. Remember, be respectful, don't treat him like a prisoner."
The door to the warm room was gently pushed open, and Dirk Doyle walked in with his head down.
He was wearing a faded gray robe, and his hair was somewhat disheveled, clearly indicating that he hadn't paid much attention to his appearance during his confinement in the tower.
But when facing the throne, his movements remained respectful. He bent over, placed his right hand on his left chest, and performed a standard noble salute, saying in a cautious tone, " Dirk Doyle greets Your Majesty."
Rodney XVIII waved for him to stand up, his gaze fixed on the wizard: "No need for formalities. I have something to ask you—do you have any way to deal with a fortress? Not the kind on the plains, but the kind built in the mountains of Paradise Basin, surrounded by cliffs on three sides, with only one narrow path leading in."
Dirk's eyes lit up slightly, seemingly surprised that the king would ask him such a question.
He immediately straightened up and quickened his pace: "Your Majesty, of course I have a way! When I was with the traitor Giles, I took over the production of those rage potions. After soldiers drink them, their strength will increase threefold, and their pain will be reduced. They can even withstand the rain of arrows from the fortress and charge forward."
"No." Rodney shook his head before he could finish, his tone resolute. "I know the side effects of that potion. Not only will it deplete your body, but over time it can also cause mania and even attack your own people. What I need is a way to take the fortress without costing the army unnecessary damage, not this kind of dangerous method."
Dirk lowered his head, his fingers twisting the hem of his robe as he fell into deep thought. For a moment, the only sound in the warm room was the crackling of the fireplace firewood, while Rodney waited patiently.
After about three minutes, Dirk suddenly raised his head and said, "Your Majesty, I've got it! Since a frontal assault won't work, we can go around to the rear. Although the pass of Paradise Basin is treacherous, as long as it hasn't been closed before the battle breaks out, I can take a few companions, disguise myself as civilians, and sneak into the rear of the pass. Then, I can use magic to spread disease in the defenders' water sources or granaries, rendering them unable to fight."
"Disease?" Rodney XVIII immediately thought of plague. "Can you control the spread? What if civilians get infected too? Don't forget, my army will be going in soon!"
Dirk quickly explained, "Your Majesty, this disease is not fatal, but it will make the garrison weak and unable to even lift a sword. In three days at most, the entire garrison of the fortress will be rendered incapable of fighting, helping you to easily take the fortress. Moreover, as long as the spell stops, they will recover after a while, and the infection will also stop."
The air in the warm chamber seemed to lighten instantly, and Rodney XVIII finally showed a clear smile in his eyes. He said with certainty, "This is a good idea. It avoids the losses of a direct assault and reduces unnecessary casualties—provided you're not lying to me. How can I guarantee that you and your companions won't take this opportunity to escape?"
Dirk said respectfully, "Your Majesty, I swear I am not lying to you. Even if we escaped, what loss would it cause you? It would just mean a few less idle mouths in the palace! As wise as you are, even if Giles had us serving him, wouldn't you still have destroyed him?"
"Hahaha! That's a very clever compliment!" Rodney XVIII laughed. "If you can really help the Royal Army take Paradise Basin and eliminate the Veblen Family, I will definitely reward you handsomely!"
"Whether it's gold coins, land, or titles, whatever you want, as long as I can provide it, you can ask for it." In Aldor, for ordinary people, a reward from the king can quickly elevate them, or even propel them into the upper class.
But Dirk shook his head. He simply looked calmly at the king, took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind: "Your Majesty, my companions and I do not need any material reward."
Rodney was slightly taken aback by these words, and even the servants standing nearby looked surprised.
Dirk continued, "We only hope that after this is done, His Majesty will grant us a suggestion that will be absolutely beneficial to Aldor's future. Your approval would be our greatest reward."
"Oh?" Rodney's curiosity was piqued, and he leaned back in his velvet chair. "What advice is more important to you than gold coins and titles?"
The mage's eyes lit up, his voice carrying a barely perceptible excitement, yet he remained respectful: "Your Majesty, you should know that the Horn Bay nations recognized the Spellcasters ' legitimacy after the war, and the Gabella Empire even brought mages to the forefront, relying on them to defeat the Papacy. But what about Aldor? The Spellcasters are still regarded as 'evil heretics' by the general public, forced to hide in the shadows, even using magic with trepidation."