Chapter 116: Preparing for the Expedition [3]

The soft, ethereal shimmer of the concealment barrier hummed quietly along the library walls, sealing the four figures in absolute privacy.

Once the initial shock of Annie’s enchanted spell had subsided and everyone had taken their seats around the dark mahogany table, Craig placed both palms flat against the brown parchment map of the Northern Continent.

His golden-crimson eyes swept over his three companions, his expression turning deathly serious.

"Before we delve into our route and logistics, I must reiterate the most crucial mandate of this entire campaign," Craig spoke, his deep voice carrying a sharp, heavy weight that demanded absolute discipline.

"This expedition must be executed under the shroud of absolute, ironclad secrecy. Not a single soul outside this room—save for His Grace—must ever learn that we have crossed the border into the North."

He paused, letting his gaze linger on Ser Hughway and Ser Damian.

"Never forget my current standing," Craig reminded them coldly. "I am the Seventh Successor—the youngest and last in line for the throne of the Rynchester Duchy.

My six senior brothers and sisters have had years to build overwhelming political leverage, backed by powerful noble houses, wealthy merchant syndicates, and standing armies. I have none of those pre-established factions.

The Crimson Dragon Order we are heading North to build will become my sword and my shield. If my senior siblings discover I am secretly building an unaligned private military company, they will use every resource at their disposal to crush it before it can take root."

Satisfied that the weight of his words had settled, Craig turned his attention down to the map.

He extended a long, slender finger, tapping firmly on the vast, tempestuous expanse of the Creptun Ocean.

"To reach our destination in the North, we must cross these waters," Craig explained, tracing four distinct lines across the parchment.

"From the borders of my Myrain Viscounty, there are four potential paths leading toward the coast—and three of them are completely unacceptable for our needs."

His finger shifted to the first path, landing on a dark, blood-red blotch near the North-Eastern border of his fief. "The first option is the North-Eastern Province of Myrain. Because my viscounty sits near the outer perimeter of the Western Continent, passing through here leads directly into the Jungle of Blood—an A-level danger zone.

Intelligence reports confirm the presence of at least two 4th-Tier Abominations lurking within its depths. Since I am intentionally leaving Chaosbringer, Soul Dreamer, and Dark Sister behind to guard the Old Valley, taking a small party into an A-level zone without draconic air support is an unnecessary, high-risk gamble."

Craig moved his finger to the second line. "The second route cuts through the Black Mountain Range.

While it is not formally classified as an Abomination danger zone, the terrain is a breeding ground for lawlessness. At least four major, heavily armed bandit syndicates operate along those passes, waiting to ambush and loot passing merchant caravans.

Wasting our time, energy, and mana fighting low-life brigands will only slow our advance and leave a trail of bodies for my siblings’ spies to track."

His finger glided further down, stopping at a massive, pitch-black territory marked with a warning rune. "The fourth route is a complete non-starter—the Night Jungle. It is an S-level danger zone.

The probability of encountering a 5th-Tier Abomination or an ancient horror within those woods is exceptionally high. We are going North to recruit power, not commit suicide."

Finally, Craig tapped his finger against the third route, resting it upon a flourishing, heavily fortified territory bordering the primary coastal trade roads.

"That leaves the third route," Craig noted, his eyes narrowing slightly. "The Asherian Viscounty. It is within the ruling fief of the second successor—my second brother.

The territory houses the primary, official deep-water sea port of the Rynchester Duchy. Fortunately for us, the port itself is directly governed by Governor Aslan of House Maverick."

Craig looked up at Ser Hughway for a brief moment. "Governor Aslan maintains absolute political neutrality among the successors, largely because his father—the Patriarch of House Maverick—is the Guardian Knight and personal right hand of the Crimson Duke. As long as we move cleanly through the port, Aslan will not interfere."

Craig then turned his gaze toward Ser Damian, gesturing for the knight to step forward.

"Damian... as a native born in the Northern Continent who successfully made the journey to the West, tell us... how exactly did you cross these waters?"

Ser Damian cleared his throat and stepped closer to the mahogany table.

He leaned over the map, his calloused finger tracing a path far to the eastern edge of the northern landmass.

"I was born into a harsh, nomadic tribe stationed in the Kastir Mountains, located deep within the Eastern Region of the Northern Continent," Damian began, his voice tinged with quiet, ancient memory.

"Life there was brutal, but the moment I awakened my mana core as a young man, everything changed. I knew that if my tribal elders discovered my awakening, they would not celebrate—they would bind me in slave runes and force me to serve as a living weapon for the tribe’s warlords."

Damian looked at Craig, his expression solemn. "To save myself and my little sister, we fled the Kastir Mountains under the cover of night. I guided us through fourteen treacherous mountain passes, carefully skirting around high-level danger zones, until we finally reached Oman City."

His finger tapped a coastal point on the eastern edge of the Northern Continent’s border. "Oman City is a sprawling, lawless metropolis that operates its own massive, independent seaport.

The body of water connecting Oman City directly to the Creptun Ocean is known as the Kotyr Sea. To secure passage across the Kotyr Sea and enter the Creptun Ocean, my sister and I had to pay a staggering fee of five hundred gold coins to a rogue merchant captain.

That ship brought us directly into the official seaport of the Rynchester Duchy... and from there, we traveled through the Asherian Viscounty until I eventually pledged my blade to you."

"The Asherian Viscounty, huh?" Craig mumbled under his breath, letting out a long, deep exhale as he absorbed the information.

He leaned back slightly, resting his hand on his hip. "It seems the gods have made our path clear. We have no choice but to slip quietly through my brother’s territory to reach the official seaport and board a ship heading North."

Craig then looked back at Damian, a sharp, calculating glint in his eyes. "Tell me, Damian... where exactly is the headquarters of this failing Blue Tiger Guild located?"

Ser Damian’s face broke into a knowing, sharp smile. "It is located precisely where my journey began in the North, My Lord. The Blue Tiger Guild operates out of the lawless city of Oman."

Damian’s smile faded slightly into a warning.

"However... there is a reason those northern coastal settlements are explicitly classified as ’lawless cities.’ There are no Ducal laws, no royal guards, and no civil order. Might makes right, and blood flows freely in the streets every single day."

Craig let out a soft, amused chuckle, casually waving his hand through the air as if dismissing a minor inconvenience.

"A lawless city full of ruthless cutthroats and rogue mercenaries sounds like the absolute perfect market for our needs. I will not waste my energy worrying about trouble that has yet to present itself. We will handle Oman City when we step foot onto its docks."

Straightening his posture, Craig turned his attention toward Annie, who was resting comfortably in the cushioned leather armchair.

"Annie," Craig called out softly, his expression turning pragmatic. "Tell me... with your knowledge of basic spirit magic... can you use an illusion or spiritual alteration spell to temporarily turn my crimson hair stark white, and shift my golden eyes to a deep emerald green?"

Annie raised her head, blinking in surprise at the request before analyzing the magical requirements.

"It is an advanced spiritual mana-weaving technique, My Lord. It requires very little mana and can be sustained easily with a enchanted mana-stone artifact. But... why white hair and green eyes?"

Craig’s lips curled into a quiet, dangerous smile as he touched his dark coat collar.

"Because if I march into the Northern Continent displaying my fiery crimson hair and golden-red eyes, every competent informant and mercenary broker will instantly identify me as a highborn descendant of House Darkstar," Craig explained coldly.

"Rumors would spread across the Four Continents like wildfire, and my six senior siblings would immediately launch full-scale investigations into my movement."

Craig’s golden-crimson eyes flashed one last time before his deliberate facade took over.

"While we are on this Northern Expedition... the Seventh Successor of the Crimson Duke does not exist. I shall be traveling under an entirely new identity."

"So tell me Annie.....can you do it?"