"What do you want to discuss?" Barrett's senses heightened. From his past experience, whenever old Tony showed up unannounced, it was never with money—only with trouble, often bringing danger to his life.

Old Tony paused for a moment, then got straight to the point. "The Warrior Captain tournament is reaching its climax, and they're about to select the finalists. There's a powerful contestant from the second prince's faction named Schroeve Dahlsen. His strength has been unnaturally boosted, and we couldn't stop him. I'm worried that Brain won't be able to defeat him."

"You need to have faith in Brain. Isn't he the strongest swordsman in the Re-Estize?" Barrett said, puzzled. "Besides, what does this have to do with me? I'm not even participating in the Warrior Captain selection, so don't drag me into this."

Old Tony pulled out a piece of parchment from his pocket and unfolded it. "I'm not trying to drag you in. I just want to ask you to replace an adventurer and face Schroeve Dahlsen in a duel."

"Don't joke around." Barrett flatly refused. "I saw Schroeve's winning streak at the casino—he's a killer who's won dozens of matches. Anyone who duels him either ends up dead or crippled, and you say you don't want to drag me into this?"

Old Tony chuckled awkwardly. "Didn't you once take down an ancient frost dragon? Since you can do what ordinary folks can't, I thought I'd come to you."

"That dragon was a moron; its brain had been smashed long ago," Barrett snapped. "I just got lucky and took advantage of it.

"And I've never participated in the Warrior Captain selection. My rank is zero—how could I possibly face Schroeve? Don't tell me about impersonation or anything like that; as the tournament progresses, the rules get stricter. The Re-Estize's bureaucrats might be foolish, but they're not blind—they'll definitely catch on."

Old Tony was confident. "As long as you're willing to fight, there's a way. There's a rule in the tournament called the 'challenge system.' Anyone can challenge a contestant, and that contestant has the right to accept or refuse. If they accept, they can duel. If the challenger wins, they take the contestant's rank and spot."

Barrett understood Old Tony's scheme. They could arrange for an adventurer to pretend to duel him and deliberately lose, allowing Barrett to step onto the arena and face Schroeve.

"I'm not getting into this mess. Schroeve Dahlsen's real name is Slam Daguerre, right? A mercenary known as the 'Lord of Death.'" Barrett asked; he had heard of Schroeve's reputation from Wind Blade Yaso.

"Exactly. He's been hired by the Re-Estize's nobles to compete," Old Tony nodded. "You might have heard about his notorious assassin brother in Baharuth, but I heard he was recently killed by someone."

Barrett thought to himself that he had a hand in that brother's death too. Better to avoid trouble; he had no intention of provoking someone like Schroeve.

"Are you really going to refuse?" Old Tony looked a bit disappointed. "For the medical fund, our companions have sacrificed too much. Five adventurers died in the qualifying duels, and several others were injured or disabled.

"If we can defeat Slam, Brain will definitely be elected the Warrior Captain, and the Adventurer's Guild's contract with Princess Renner will come into effect. Don't you want official support from the Re-Estize when you get injured in the future?"

"Old Tony," Barrett said, turning the tables and staring him down, "you've gotten in too deep. Have you forgotten the adventurer's code? Adventurers aren't mercenaries. Mercenaries kill people; adventurers slay monsters. The power struggles of nobles and royals are not our concern."

Old Tony sighed softly. "I'm getting old. The injuries I suffered in my youth often act up at night. While mages don't fight with their bodies and martial arts, my physical condition no longer allows me to roam around. Maybe I'll retire from this line of work soon, but I want to do a bit more, even if it means fighting."

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"Then you'd better be careful. Since Princess Renner hired us," Barrett calculated in his mind, "we've already faced two assassination attempts. The first was against me and the captain, and the second was aimed at Princess Renner. Each time, it nearly cost us our lives. This is a whirlpool of blood and blades—don't get sucked into it. You don't need to persuade me further; I absolutely will not participate in the Warrior Captain selection."

Old Tony nodded silently. He wasn't oblivious; seeing Barrett's firm stance, he stopped trying to convince him and grabbed the gray wool coat from the rack, preparing to leave.

EeDeChi called out to him and handed over a book made of parchment. "I found this book in an old shop. Can you see how much of it is real?"

Old Tony took the book and quickly skimmed through it. Soon, he gave his verdict: "Is this a bedtime story for kids? Eighty percent of this is pure nonsense."

"How much is this book worth?" EeDeChi's face flushed as she asked.

"Considering the expert craftsmanship in aging it, and its high quality as toilet paper, it's worth one silver coin. How much did you pay for it?"

"I…" EeDeChi hesitated, unusually at a loss for words.

She had spent ten gold coins! Barrett thought to himself as he answered for the captain in his mind.

"Is there really no authentic tale in this book?" EeDeChi asked stubbornly.

"Hmm…" Old Tony flipped through a few pages, pointing to a jumbled illustration. "This part is accurate. The legend of the Eight Greed Kings' great expedition, in the year 1339 of the Imperial Calendar, when eight kings summoned the full power of their nations for a grand campaign. I once found a fragment of a calcite slab while traveling in the Eight Greed Kings Desert, and the dates and events match perfectly with what's in this book."

He handed the book back to EeDeChi, put on his coat, adjusted his fur-lined hat, and called over Eddie, who was discussing archery techniques with Sean. The old man and the young boy pushed open the door and stepped into the biting cold wind, leaving.

…

Winter had arrived, and the cold wind howled as groups of noblewomen draped in wool cloaks and fur coats strolled through the palace.

In the reception room, the flames in the fireplace flickered silently. The flames were just decorative magic; the real source of light and heat came from the red magic crystals embedded in the fireplace's inner wall.

Unlike traditional fireplaces that burn coal or wood, this magic fireplace didn't produce smoke or ash and didn't require a chimney for ventilation.

This high-end fireplace could only be enjoyed by nobles, royalty, and high-tier mages, since the consumption of magic crystals was beyond the means of ordinary people.

Renner Princess gazed into the hypocritical flames of the fireplace, recalling the fairy tales she had heard from the maid when she was young.

In those tales, every time the God's birthday arrived, a messenger clad in a red cotton robe would ride in on a heavenly steed from the far North, slipping down the chimney into the fireplace to deliver precious gifts to blessed children.

As a child, she had never understood what a "chimney" was or how the messenger could "squeeze" down into the fireplace from outside. Did the messenger have an army of wall-digging soldiers?

When she was educated by the court teachers, she had played war games and learned about siege tactics that involved digging tunnels.

She was filled with doubt about the existence of messengers delivering gifts to children. Yet, every winter on that special day, she would find gifts by the fireplace, leading her to believe for a time that she was a little angel blessed by the gods, and it brought her great joy.

As she grew older, she found out that the gifts had actually been secretly placed by the eldest prince, who eventually got tired of teasing his sister. After that, the younger second prince took on this sweet responsibility, ensuring their sister remained happy for several more years before she uncovered the truth.

At this thought, Princess Renner couldn't help but smile bitterly. Indeed, royal children shouldn't listen to fairy tales. First, drink the honey water, then swallow the dark chocolate, and the bitterness becomes even more pronounced.

She pulled her gaze away from the flickering flames, noticing that a stunning woman in a white gown had taken a seat in the once-empty ornate armchair.

The envoy from the Sorcerer Kingdom, Albedo, had arrived as scheduled.

Princess Renner lowered her head and asked, "Did you summon me for something, my lady?"

"You haven't reported in a while," Albedo said, leaning back in the armchair, her alluring curves accentuated.

On this cold winter day, while the water outside began to freeze and the indoor warmth had faded, she still wore a gown as thin as a cicada's wing.

Wearing her otter fur coat, Princess Renner thought that the demon gods were truly beyond the constraints of nature. She recalled that during her last meeting with EeDeChi, that adventurer had also worn nothing but a thin black linen outfit.

"What would you like to know, esteemed envoy?" Princess Renner replied politely.

"I'm asking you," Albedo said, pointing her chin at Renner with her usual arrogance, "Has EeDeChi mentioned anything about the Great Tomb of Nazarick?"