Beneath the radiance of the Golden Lion, nearly all others dimmed into insignificance. It wasn’t merely his godlike visage, distinguished lineage, or peerless prowess, but also his regal bearing—as gentle as spring rain—that commanded utter devotion.

The black flames dancing behind Ophirock burned silently. Even the Golden Lion’s brilliance could not obscure them. Within the fire, a cold beauty seared into memory, daring no one to gaze too long yet impossible to forget. Several fallen nobles stole glances, only to swiftly avert their eyes as if scorched by those dark flames. Beneath her black mage’s robe, peerlessly beautiful elven curves defied concealment—those straight legs, the willow-waist—turning every man into a beast with every sway.

Rogue, Lance, Fraggio, and Ete sat uneasily. The Golden Lion’s sudden visit was utterly unexpected. They scrambled to usher Ophirock to a seat and summoned the finest tea and pastries.

The Golden Lion sipped his tea, his movements flawless. His guard, Richard, opened a small pouch and emptied dozens of multicolored gemstones onto the table.

Ophirock smiled faintly. "I’ve come to discuss partnership possibilities." A collective gasp filled the room. "These gems are worth about five thousand gold coins—my earnest payment."

Rogue finally wrested his eyes from the gems, steadying his voice. "If even you cannot handle this matter, what chance do we have?" The moment the words left his lips, Lance lunged to clamp a hand over Rogue’s mouth. "Pay him no mind! Name your task—I’d brave fire and brimstone for you!" His voice rang with false valor while his eyes lingered on Elexis.

Ophirock watched the fallen nobles with keen interest. None had dared gaze so brazenly at Elexis before—ignorance truly was fearless. A lustful gleam flickered in their eyes, and Ophirock sensed the killing intent spreading from behind him.

"Of course, my cooperation comes with conditions." Ophirock gestured, and a guard unrolled a vast parchment map across the table. His finger tapped a castle mark at the center. "This abandoned keep lies within my Duchy of Bavaria’s lands, recently seized by bandits. It’s southwest of Faerburg, 415 miles distant. Within ten miles lies the Demon Domain Forest. Though strategically negligible, two towns and dozens of villages cluster nearby—I won’t abandon thousands of my folk. You’ll reclaim it. The five thousand gold coins’ worth of jewels will fund your start. Whether you go alone or raise a company of Heavy Lancers is your concern. You have six months."

Ophirock continued, "Seize that castle, and my father will grant it as your fief. You’ll become landed nobles. And I’ll invest ten thousand gold coins into Hammer of the War God as my share. Half the profits will be mine, naturally."

Their faces flushed with excitement as they huddled over the map, though little made sense to them. Ophirock observed with a patient smile while one guard barely concealed his disdain.

Ete suddenly looked up. "With no soldiers under our command, how can we defeat a bandit horde? Ah, have you any intelligence on their numbers?"

Elexis cut in coldly, "Only now do you think to ask for intelligence?" Ete flushed crimson. Ophirock remained unruffled. "The bandits are actually a five-hundred-strong battalion of Ronen Duchy’s Ice Silver Fox Mercenary Group—formidable fighters. They may have reinforced in these six months."

Rogue pondered. "Bandits, or mercenaries… surely they’re beneath the Golden Lion’s notice? A single visit from you would scatter them like chaff."

The Golden Lion’s smile was faint. "This is but a small test. Should you succeed, Bavaria will gain loyal servants."

Fraggio’s pupils narrowed. "The Duchy of Bavaria?"

"Indeed, the Duchy of Bavaria."

The air grew icy, charged with silent currents.

Lance, uncharacteristically grave, spoke. "Bavaria’s armies are mighty, its champions countless. Even your handful of guards could crush us without breaking stride. We may be scoundrels, but we know our limits. We seek no grand ambitions—just wine, women, and comfort. Surely you don’t need our ragged lot?"

Ophirock swept his gaze across them. "I admired your brawl at The Old Oak tavern—you show promise. And Hammer of the War God’s swift success couldn’t be accidental. Governing a great nation is like cooking a small fish. Whether ruling realms or running a weapons shop, it hinges on understanding the human heart."

He paused, then added, "Life is fleeting—forty winters, perhaps. Drink only the finest wine, wield only legendary blades, and if you must quarrel over love, let it be for a beauty famed across nations. What use are countless ordinary women when one smile could conquer cities? This chance awaits beyond a simple trial. What say you?"

A sudden fervor surged through them!

Rogue lifted his head, meeting the Golden Lion’s gaze without flinching despite the searing light. "I’m in." Each word rang with conviction.

Fraggio sighed. "Ah, I cannot let you die alone. Someone must collect your coins afterward."

"Traversing the world to meet beauties? A joy indeed!" Lance declared, his spirit soaring. The room thickened with sudden acidity.

Ete sank heavily into his chair, striking a dramatic pose—only for the chair to splinter beneath him. He let out a nervous *Heh, heh*, too embarrassed to speak further.

"Then I await your triumph." Ophirock waved a hand and turned to leave.

Elexis halted. Her icy stare pinned the fallen nobles. Chills shot through them; they trembled violently yet stood frozen. With a contemptuous laugh, black flames flared as she lifted them slowly into the air. A glacial voice whispered in their ears: "I cannot fathom why Ophirock values you. Now, you’re scarcely stronger than maggots. Even years hence, what might you achieve? And how dare you, pitiful jesters, look at me thus!" Without a spell, colossal hands materialized above their heads, slamming them to the floor.

Elexis departed, her black flames still flickering mockingly at their groaning forms.

As their hearts calmed, they exchanged glances. Ete asked, "Rogue, why did you agree so swiftly?" Rogue reddened. "Ophirock is a power broker—one of the alliance’s top nobles, a territorial Duke. Such favor is rare—we’d leap at this chance normally." The others nodded fervently. As for Ophirock’s rumored treason, they cared little; should rebellion come, Bavaria would likely prevail—his mother was sister to the O-Hung Emperor, ruler of one of the three great powers.

"Perhaps we’ll earn founder’s merit," Lance mused dreamily. All agreed. As for Keith? "Shared fortune, shared fate," Ete added slyly. "That pup won’t escape his share."

"We should take as many men as possible," Fraggio proposed. "Form a mercenary company—it’ll satisfy official channels." After brief debate, they dispersed to prepare.

Days passed as they recruited tirelessly. Hammer of the War God had amassed over twenty thousand gold coins in months; with Ophirock’s fifty thousand, they could outfit a hundred-strong cavalry. Through open hiring and discreet poaching, Rogue gathered thirty seasoned mercenaries within a month, forming the company’s core. Naming it sparked fierce arguments until "Dragon and Beauty" won by a 4-1 vote. Fraggio cast the lone dissent—the only true connoisseur among them, sadly outnumbered.

Yet Rogue despaired over intelligence. They knew nothing of the bandits occupying the castle—their numbers, leader, skills, or gear. Even the local terrain remained unclear. Blame them not; as greenhorns, they scarcely knew where to start. After two scouts vanished without trace, restlessness set in. Following tense deliberations, they resolved to reconnoiter with their full force.