The sea breeze was cool, and the waters calm: a day of rare, welcome weather.

Crates of gold coins were carried onto the deck and loaded into small boats. A full ten million gold represented the Silent Sea Pirate Company's first year's "employment fee."

Of course, this could hardly be interpreted as anything but tribute. To make things sound better, the contract stated that, aside from not attacking ships of the Ragetide Kingdom, the Silent Sea Pirate Company was also required to provide assistance within its capabilities. For example, if they happened to be nearby during a storm, they had to render aid to Ragetide ships.

Naturally, such situations would never occur in practice.

The Ragetide Kingdom knew full well the pirates would never lift a finger to help them, that they would always claim that they weren't nearby. But with that clause in place, the ten million gold could be interpreted as an escort fee, rather than war reparations.

The small boats, laden with gold, drifted toward the center of the sea where a massive whirlpool churned. This was where the exchange would take place.

As the last of the gold-laden boats was swallowed by the vortex, Ariel walked over to Ambrose and asked, "Shall we head directly to the Emerald Dreamwood now?"

Ambrose forced himself to remain calm. The gold he had just thrown away could technically be reclaimed from Aige later, but he had planned to claim the gold and then vanish straight away.

Who could have predicted that the King of the Ragetide Kingdom would insist that Ariel accompany him as envoy to the Emerald Dreamwood?

Ambrose could hardly argue against it. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

"I'm not looking down on you, Monge. You're more than clever enough, but your strength is lacking. With Ariel at your side, at least you'll be well protected."

Damn that Monge Greywater. Despite worshiping the Lord of Storms, he was utterly useless in combat.

Ambrose cursed the dead man dozens of times in his heart, but had no choice except to agree.

Refusal wasn't an option. If he bolted now, the Ragetide Kingdom might realize they'd been deceived and immediately break their agreement with the Silent Sea Pirate Company. He would lose out on millions of gold each year! How could he possibly bear to give that up?

He had originally intended for Monge Greywater to encounter a Lyon assassin in the Emerald Dreamwood. In his death, Monge's body would be lost without a trace. Ambrose could then retire cleanly from the stage. After all, the Ragetide Kingdom and the Lyon Empire were already sworn enemies. One more death would hardly matter.

But with Ariel by his side, he would need another plan.

Deceiving a legend was no easy task. Framing Lyon would be even harder.

"Your Highness," Ambrose said to Ariel, "I'll leave the navigation to you on the journey to the Emerald Dreamwood. I'm utterly exhausted after these past few days and need proper rest."

Ariel nodded. "Rest well. I'll instruct the servants not to disturb you."

Ambrose quickly retreated into his cabin.

The Ragetide Kingdom had dispatched the voyage to the Emerald Dreamwood with great ceremony, so the ship was lavish. His room was large and spacious, not cramped in the least.

He carefully inspected every corner to ensure there were no surveillance measures. Then he cast several layers of wards to seal off sound and presence before finally taking out the divine artifact.

Aige had handed it to him without hesitation, not because it lacked value, but because she had known from the start it was useless to her.

It was useless to Ambrose as well. This was a draconic artifact, one that only a time dragon could use. No matter how much magic he poured into it, the hourglass remained inert.

But Arthur Lyon, the artifact's spirit, had rested for most of the day and recovered enough strength to manifest once more.

Compared to before, however, the flickering humanoid figure looked as though he might be scattered by a strong wind.

Despite seeing Ambrose erect such solemn wards, Arthur Lyon showed no concern for his own safety. Instead, he asked, "Is the Tyrant... truly dead?"

"You didn't believe me earlier. What changed?"

Arthur Lyon settled down across from him. "This artifact has been unsealed, and the Tyrant should have appeared immediately to reclaim it, but it's already been half a day. What you said may well be true."

Ambrose had never witnessed the might of the Dragon Tyrant for himself, but he doubted the man would joke about a secret he had guarded for seventeen centuries.

"Your Majesty," Ambrose said, "the Dragon Tyrant is indeed dead. Even his carcass was fashioned into a divine artifact of the Lyon Empire. Rest easy. Your mission was completed long ago. As I informed you, I have to borrow the artifact's power to save someone. I hope you'll assist me when the time comes."

His courtesy was a deliberate measure. Arthur Lyon's heroic spirit had fused with the artifact; unless the artifact itself were destroyed, the spirit could not be eliminated. If Arthur interfered during the rescue, things could become troublesome.

But everything was negotiable. Ambrose had done business with paladins before. Surely he could reach an understanding with this heroic spirit.

Arthur Lyon fell silent for a long while before suddenly asking, "Do you have any wine?"

Then he gave a wry smile. "What am I even saying? A dead man can't drink."

Without a word, Ambrose produced a small bottle from his personal space. The liquid inside was black as ink.

He handed it over. "Try this."

"What's this?" Arthur Lyon asked, uncorking the bottle. He attempted to smell it but, as a heroic spirit, he had long lost his sense of smell.

"Wine that can intoxicate the undead," Ambrose explained. "It contains trace amounts of abyssal toxin."

He had obtained this sample from the zombie Phil, and even asked for his recipe in hopes of improving on it himself. Who would have thought the last bottle of the vintage would prove useful here?

Not at all suspicious of Ambrose, Arthur Lyon took a direct swig from the bottle.

The dark magic within burned. The abyssal toxin made him dizzy almost instantly. He was far too weak; one mouthful was enough to make him drunk.

Yet he laughed in delight. "Good wine! It's been so long since I've had something this fine!"

"More like it's been a long time since you've tasted anything at all," Ambrose said with amusement. "You've had your drink, Your Majesty. Now how about telling me a story?"

Arthur Lyon's gaze grew unfocused, his tone languid. "A story? What do you want to know? My life was rather dull. As a child, I was beset by poverty and hunger. Later, I met a paladin who took me in as his disciple. Then came ordinary adventures and an ordinary life. There's nothing especially worth mentioning."

"You're far too modest, Your Majesty. If your life isn't worth mentioning, then no one in this world deserves to be called a legend."

Ambrose meant every word. Despite his political stance, Arthur Lyon was the hero who liberated the continent.

Ambrose had always been curious about what kind of man Arthur Lyon had truly been? How had he stolen a time dragon's artifact right under its nose? The historical records were vague; Ambrose wanted to hear the truth from the man himself.

His notebook was ready. He'd even list Arthur Lyon as second author on the paper. He dared the editor of Legendary Spellcraft to reject it then.

Arthur Lyon nodded. "Very well. Ask whatever you like. But for every question you ask, you must answer one of mine. As repayment for the wine, I'll grant you three free questions. Starting with the fourth, we'll take turns."

Ambrose raised his pen. "First, what prompted you to slay the Dragon Tyrant? The Tyrant's power was overwhelming. How did a mere paladin decide to oppose him?"

He had expected a stirring answer. Instead, Arthur Lyon replied calmly, "You may not like this one. I wanted to kill the Tyrant because it was my master's dying wish.

"I was born a common serf, and I never even knew my parents. I survived a few difficult years before my teacher took me in. He told me about the Tyrant and guided me down that path.

"All paladins must take vows. I was young and didn't understand how difficult it would be to liberate the entire continent, but my vow is my word. I had no choice but to keep striving toward that end. Honestly, if you hadn't told me the Tyrant truly died, I'd have thought I failed."

His answer was unexpectedly plain.

Yet Ambrose wasn't disappointed. After all, how many people would actually have been able to spend a lifetime working toward a childhood vow?

Legends possessed more than talent and luck. Their willpower set them apart.

More importantly, this differed from the Lyon Empire's official narrative. According to their records, the founding emperor was of noble birth and compassionate from childhood. As a youth, he passed through a disaster-stricken village and, while fighting magical beasts, received a revelation from the Lord of Dawn. Thereafter, he vowed to slay the Tyrant and free the continent.

That discrepancy alone could extort a fortune in hush money from the Lyon Empire. What a profit.

"Second question," Ambrose said. "How did you steal the Dragon Tyrant's artifact?"

Stealing from a time dragon sounded absurd. How could a being that manipulated time be caught off guard?

"Now that is a story worth telling. Have you heard of the Cult of Dragonkind?" Arthur Lyon asked.

"During the Dragon Tyrant's rule, the Cult of Dragonkind was supposed to have flourished. They called themselves servants of dragons and worshiped them as gods," Ambrose replied.

"Correct. They once served the dragons, so the Tyrant trusted them completely. But I had a friend within the cult. He told me when a draconic ritual would begin. During the ritual, the Tyrant had to focus on digesting the faith gathered from across the continent. While it was distracted, I stole the artifact."

"It's that simple?" Ambrose found Arthur Lyon's answer anticlimactic.

"That simple. Faith was the Tyrant's fatal flaw. He tried to wield faith without condensing divinity. This can grant great strength in the short term, but it's uncontrollable and causes problems in the long term. While digesting all that faith, he lost all awareness of the outside world."

Ambrose understood. Mortals could only use the power of faith as an external boost—like the redcap using it for temporary magic immunity, or Ambrose forging the Golden Throne from it. Forcefully incorporating faith into oneself could be powerful, but the side effects would be commensurate as well.

"And, finally, about your wife..."

Ambrose was eager to ask about the countless scandalous versions of the Lyon Empress's origins, but Arthur Lyon cut him off. "What nonsense is this? I wasn't married. What wife?"

Ambrose: "..."

So he hadn't even been married by the time he stole the artifact? Those idiots in Lyon had fabricated everything. Even the tearful farewell kiss before the final battle had been invented to make young girls weep!

Then, Arthur Lyon's expression brightened with excitement. "There. Your three questions are over. It's my turn now."

Ambrose considered pointing out that the three questions were meant to be freebies, that it was still his turn to ask the fourth question, but he dropped the matter.

He would consider it his tribute to the legendary liberator of the continent.

"Ask away."

Arthur Lyon looked both eager and nervous. "You said that after I killed the Tyrant, I founded an empire. Can you tell me... what kind of country it became?"