Baron Todd nodded, indicating that he understood.
Because the fact was indeed so, the Red Dragon before him disdained deceiving him.
As the thirteenth son, who was not valued by the family, he had angered his father by manipulating power in Northwind Castle and was exiled to the remote Sgurr Town.
Rather than being granted a territory, it was more accurate to say he was banished.
This small town, adjacent to Stormy Ridge with a sparse population, faced imminent disaster from any outside invasion, whether it be from Giants or True Dragons, without adequate military power.
It was better to really seek powerful outsiders nearby to maintain his own power, grow and expand his own forces, and then find an opportunity to break free of control, competing with his brothers to gain his father's attention.
Thinking of this, Todd said ingratiatingly:
"Thank you for your honesty, Lord Flying Flame. I am very pleased that we can cooperate with you—the great Red Dragon."
Cassius nodded slightly:
"Baron, please remember well, acknowledging Ashen Nest's sovereignty over Stormy Ridge and compensating for your past reckless actions are the premises and foundation of our cooperation."
Todd replied, "I will keep that in mind."
Cassius added a touch of mockery to his tone:
"Then please take your loyal subordinates and return to the Baron's Mansion. I hope to see what I want tomorrow."
"Yes, Lord Flying Flame."
Baron Todd looked at Hart not far away, hatred for his betrayal deeply hidden in his eyes and almost uncontrollable.
But thinking of the Red Dragon before him, he did not dare to act immediately and forced a thin, insincere smile onto his pale face.
Seeing this, Hart had beads of sweat roll down his forehead.
But when he thought about having the Red Dragon's backing, ensuring his life was secure and that he would act as a spy for Ashen Nest to check the Baron, he also grinned provocatively.
"Let's go, my Baron,"
Hart said, gritting his teeth on the last four words.
Cassius watched the two men with mutual hatred and hidden agendas leave side by side, feeling a perverse satisfaction.
The conditions he proposed seemed "equal," but were actually malicious. Todd surely noticed this to some extent, but he had no room to refuse.
Stationing troops and managing trade.
When the region's military and financial powers are all in his hands, Baron Todd would be merely a puppet. And in his plan, after the players descended, even the Baron would become dispensable and be replaced.
The Red Dragon watched Baron Todd's thin figure.
This Baron did not become his retainer after signing the contract.
Because he was a Vampire Variant—a greedy creation filled with a thirst for vampire blood, yet controlled by its vampire creator.
When vampires held their evil "Ascension Ritual," becoming Ascendant Vampires unafraid of sunlight, these variants would become sacrifices, turning into pools of blood.
However, if a vampire allowed its variant to sip its own blood, the variant would also become a true vampire, no longer under the creator's control, although very few vampires would do so.
In the previous life, regarding the vampire mission, Duke Brad had held an Ascension Ritual, but fortunately, it was stopped by the players. Hundreds of people broke into the castle's underground with a spree of explosions, solving the crisis.
"Tsk tsk..."
"A Vampire Variant attempting to gain its master's attention."
"What a pathetic guy."
Cassius's pupils flickered slightly in the darkness, then vanished.
...
The next morning.
A sizable caravan loaded with goods left Sgurr Town.
The townsfolk were no longer surprised by the sight of a caravan, even though the guards of this one wore thick, heavy armor that concealed their faces and black cloaks that covered their tall frames.
But leading them was Hart, someone familiar to the townsfolk who had not appeared for several days.
Since it was Hart leading, it must have been an order from the Baron.
Coveting the treasures of this "Bloody Baron" was undoubtedly foolish.
The townspeople quickly restrained their curious children, averting their eyes from the caravan, fearing being taken as forced labor.
Hart rode his horse in the middle of the line.
The tall guards walked on both sides, breathing heavily.
Although Hart could not see their faces, knowing they were from Ashen Nest's forces, he guessed they were likely Great Goblins or Bugbears, which did not alarm him overly; these monsters were his survival assets.
After returning to the Baron's Mansion last night, the enraged Baron Todd issued various threats and even vile curses at him, but ultimately dared not harm him, revealing the Baron's bluff.
Baron Todd did not dare to anger the Red Dragon.
This was the conclusion Hart came to.
The goods the caravan carried included armor, weapons, and twenty invaluable Magic Scrolls, clearly displaying Baron Todd's intent to curry favor.
This was more of a tribute than a trade.
"Hoo..."
Winter in Anzeta was just that cold. Hart exhaled white breath and couldn't help but wrap his thick fur coat tighter.
The snow continued to fall, the fully-loaded wagons leaving deep ruts in the snow, transforming the sizable caravan into a string of black dots in the snowy landscape.
"Awooo—"
A strange sound echoed from the snow-covered slope.
The sound was long and mournful, like some form of sorrowful weeping.
The caravan guards thought it was the wind and paid little attention.
But Hart, experienced, listened carefully for a moment and immediately snapped to attention.
"Stay on guard! That is not the sound of the wind!"
Hart shouted.
On a distant slope, several fur-covered white figures moved like ghosts in the snow-covered landscape, rushing towards the caravan with mournful howls.
"Snowmen!"
Hart recognized these monsters at a glance.
These towering creatures roamed the mountain peaks, hunting and foraging constantly.
Even in blizzard conditions, Snowmen would be lured by the scent of prey, traversing the cold and wind.
Hart groaned inwardly. Encountering Snowmen in a snowstorm could not be worse; one misstep meant total annihilation.
He instinctively wanted to call for the caravan to flee, but then he noticed the "guards" removing the black cloths draped over themselves.
These "guards" were nearly two meters tall, with strong, muscular bodies, sharp tusks jutting from their mouths, murky yellow eyes filled with combat fervor and bloodlust, and striking red skin dotted with sparse scales standing out starkly against the snow.
—They were Great Goblins.
These were Dolores's most elite troops.
"Almost forgot... we have our own monsters,"
Hart murmured in astonishment.