In a town within the King's Territory to the north, the once-immaculate Manor of the Lord now lay in a state of disrepair. But this disrepair did not stem from neglect; it was wrought from ruthless destruction.

In the manor's great hall, two elderly men clad in battle attire sat discussing matters at the same table with a detailed map of the King's Territory's northern towns spread wide before them.

One of the elders marked an X on their current location and cast his gaze towards the next midsize town just two days' march away. His pen hovered over the town as if sentencing it, then he looked up at the words of the other elder and silently nodded in acknowledgement.

From outside, a guard entered with a report: "Duke, the army has encamped, and patrols for the night are all in position. Awaiting your orders."

"Nothing further today; let the men rest well," replied a steady voice from within.

"As you command." The guard departed with the directive in hand.

Just as the two figures inside prepared for their next strategic discussion, the guard returned briskly. "Duke, there's a mage requesting an audience with you—one who visited some time ago."

While Murphy’s previous visit to the united forces' camp might have gone unnoticed by the rank and file, it was certainly no secret to the dukes' personal guards. They knew a mage had once arrived, stayed briefly, and seemed to enjoy cordial talks with the dukes—his name, however, eluded them.

Both dukes were taken aback at the news, but after a pause, Raventa softly stroked his bristly mustache and muttered, "Why's the lad coming again?"

Arwin simply gave a shrug that said, "How should I know?" before instructing the guard outside, "He's one of ours; let him in."

"By your command."

Moments later, Murphy, appearing thoroughly travel-worn, entered the main hall of the manor. His normally crisp attire was dust-laden; though weary, his eyes sparkled with clarity.

The dukes, seated at the lengthy table, were somewhat bemused by Murphy's ragged state, and even the personal guards who had once glimpsed him were scratching their heads in mild perplexity.

Of course, it was all a star performance by the Demon King, who had actually flown in just over ten minutes. He'd only taken a brief tumble in a dusty mound just outside the town to give the appearance of a traveler weary from days on the road.

As Murphy, still catching his breath, stood before them, Raventa was the first to inquire, "What brings you here, young man? It's not as peaceful as over a month ago; these parts are fraught with danger now."

Murphy couldn’t help but chuckle in response, "I've heard rumors that Dukes Raventa and Arwin's grand army has been stymied by Carnwen Stronghold. Is there any truth to that?"

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Raventa, always keen to save face, was about to gloss over the matter when Arwin, more down-to-earth, looked squarely at Murphy and stated plainly, "The rumor holds water; it's no mere hearsay."

"Sigh, you old blunt blade, why spill the beans..." Raventa couldn't conceal his displeasure.

Arwin cut in before any protest could grow, "Because I’m more interested in why this young man is here. Surely, you haven’t traipsed all this way just to have a laugh at us old folks licking our wounds, have you?"

"What are you on about? A failed assault is far from a defeat, not a man was lost, and here you are calling it a loss," Raventa grumbled, his face darkening.

Sensing the two elderly men teetering on the brink of a verbal spar, Murphy quickly interjected, "Perhaps I have a way to overcome Carnwen Stronghold."

At those words, the debate ceased, and both old men looked at Murphy with a blend of skepticism and curiosity. They seemed more inclined to believe he was there to mock their incapacity than to offer a solution.

Raventa peered at Murphy, who kept a pleasant demeanor, and asked, "Why would you help us?"

Murphy's smile broadened, "What a thing to say! We’re on the same side. If you Dukes meet defeat, and our plot comes unraveled, we viscounts are as good as done for."

"State your method," urged Arwin, expression serious.

Murphy stayed cool and collected, clearing his throat before replying, "Would the Dukes be so kind as to inform me of the methods you’ve already tried to breach the stronghold?"

Arwin glanced at Murphy for a moment before asking, "You recall our prior discussions on siege warfare, do you not?"

"I do."

"Well, then you'll remember what I said about our one-shot siege tactics being useful only when the force balance is heavily skewed," Arwin added, pausing for effect. "There's a war knight in that fortress, estimated at level seventy or so. With the fortress’s defenses and perhaps some precious artifacts boosting him, he can match me in strength, nullifying the potency of my siege approach."

Arwin sent a significant look to Raventa, who took up the thread, "As you know, close-combat mages excel in killing, not sieging. And the thread mages under my command… well, whenever I positioned them for a collective spell, those mages that the war knight brought would cause magical disruption atop the walls…"

Magical disruption is not so much a spell as a widely applicable technique. Only learned at the mid-tier, this trick disrupts loose mana within a target area, causing interference and slowing down the spellcasting process.

This simple technique usually causes a minor delay, but it has a devastating effect on the highly precision-dependent thread mages.

Raventa underscored his point, clarifying, "Just as I said, the concurrent disruption from two hundred mid-tier mages spoils such a wide area around the thread mages that it could prolong their casting indefinitely."

Raventa could split the thread mages, leaving half to cast group spells and the rest maintaining mana stability—but by magecraft rules, that would slash the spell power by more than half.

As if not wanting to disappoint Murphy, Raventa earnestly added, "Actually, if we were to give it our all, taking that fortress is not an issue. But the cost would be thousands of lives—a harsh price we're not willing to pay, hence our current strategy."

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As of this chapter, the character's partial settings:

Name: Bart

Level: 21 (Goblin Lord) (recently resurrected)

Age: 30

Species: Goblin

Profession: Goblin War-Captain

Overview: Large stature (compared to a common Goblin), skin is a grayish-green color, tougher than ordinary individuals, enjoys hunting, not fond of thinking, longing for the Demon King’s command.

Abilities Overview: Possesses dexterous hands, crafting tools and weapons but often annoyed by material shortages. At his strongest with a weapon, the mightiest in his tribe though physical prowess has waned with age.

Special Abilities: [Artisan], [Hunter], [Mastery of Arms (Basic)].

A Little Secret: Desires high-quality timber, so has a small hobby of planting trees – only to chop them down before they fully mature because he can't wait.