「The next day.」

In the afternoon, there was another knock on the stone house’s door.

Murphy pulled open the door. A Knight of the Peric Clan stood outside.

His gaze was steady. He placed his right hand over his chest and bowed. "Your Excellency, Governor of Melfield, Sir Harold Peric awaits you in the west hall. By order of the Duke, he is here to discuss the subsequent ore trade with you."

Murphy gave a slight nod, closed the door, and followed the Knight across the courtyard into a relatively secluded corridor on the west side of the fortress.

The Knight stopped before an inconspicuous oak door, turned sideways to push it open, and bowed for Murphy to enter.

Inside was a small hall, not large, with simple yet exquisite furnishings.

The walls were covered in dark tapestries depicting hunting scenes.

A heavy, long oak table occupied the center, flanked by several high-backed chairs.

Pine wood burned in the wall sconces, illuminating a shield hanging above the fireplace. It was emblazoned with the Peric Clan’s crest: a mountain range and crossed hammers.

Sir Harold Peric was already waiting there.

He was still dressed in the same dark, practical hunting attire.

They hadn’t seen each other for months, and the weathered look on his face had deepened. His features seemed to have been chiseled sharper by the harshness of the front lines, and his blue eyes held a cold severity forged in the crucible of war.

"Good day, Governor of Melfield." Sir Harold rose and gave a crisp military salute. "It has been several months. I apologize for the intrusion. However, the circumstances are quite different from when we were at Monte Castle."

"Sir Harold." Murphy returned the nod and sat in a high-backed chair opposite him. "The front lines look to be quite grueling."

An attendant silently served two cups of steaming mead, then retreated. The heavy oak door closed, completely shutting out the noise from outside.

Sir Harold did not immediately reach for his cup. He placed his hands on his knees, his posture ramrod straight, and his gray-blue eyes looked directly at Murphy. "Let’s dispense with the pleasantries, Your Excellency. My father sent me here, first and foremost, to express the Peric Clan’s sincerest gratitude for your thunderous actions in Ximu Town."

"The appearance of that Giant Scorching Beast was no small matter. Your ability to slay it so quickly not only saved Ximu Town, but also prevented a potential festering wound in our rear defenses. My clan will not forget this favor."

Murphy’s expression remained unchanged. He said lightly, "I was merely doing my duty. You overstate the matter, Sir. The Ironspine Duke is commanding the front lines and overseeing the entire situation. I imagine he already had contingency plans for all sorts of scenarios. For instance, the urgent need for high-quality steel."

"Four months ago at Monte Castle, you, Sir, on behalf of the Peric Clan, made an urgent purchase of a large quantity of special steel ingots. The reason given was to cope with the increased difficulty of mining in the Eastern Territory, and... to guard against potential border instability caused by the wild proclamations of the Tower of Secret Silver."

"It now seems the Duke’s definition of ’border instability’ was perhaps far more profound than anyone anticipated at the time. He knew long ago that there would be a problem with the passages in the Iron Ridge Mountain Range—and that it wouldn’t be a small one. That’s why he prepared for a rainy day, stockpiling key materials for armed fortresses and Garrison Fortresses in advance. Am I right?"

The muscles in Sir Harold’s face seemed to tighten for a moment.

He neither denied nor confirmed it, merely remaining silent for a moment.

But that silence was, in itself, the best answer.

After a long while, he slowly let out a breath. His voice was a little deeper, tinged with a hint of hoarseness. "Your Excellency the Governor, the Iron Ridge Mountain Range spans the Eastern Territory. The Peric Clan has been established here for centuries. Every ’breath’ the mountains take, every abnormal tremor in the earth’s veins—to us, who have dealt with these mines for generations, such things do not go unnoticed."

"As the East Border Guardian, it is my father’s duty to raise our vigilance and strengthen our armaments. Procuring high-quality steel was just one part of our many preparations."

"His duty..." Murphy echoed, his gaze locking onto Harold like a physical weight. "In that case, Sir, can you tell me, according to the Duke’s original preparations and contingency plans, when was the loss of control over the passages—or rather, the complete breaking of the seal—supposed to happen? And on what scale?"

Sir Harold’s pupils contracted almost imperceptibly.

Murphy didn’t give him much time to think, continuing in a steady voice, "The monster attack on Ximu Town was far too organized to be a simple, sporadic infiltration. And the timing of that Giant Scorching Beast’s appearance was even more peculiar."

"This doesn’t seem like a natural process, like a dam breaking and overflowing. It’s more like someone deliberately took a sledgehammer to the critical points of a dam that was already cracking, accelerating its total collapse."

His voice was calm, yet every word was distinct. "So, something unexpected happened, didn’t it? An accident that went beyond the Ironspine Duke’s initial predictions. Otherwise, given your preparations and warning time, the loss of control over the passages should never have been so swift and violent that even a mighty stronghold like Blackstone Fortress was stretched thin in a short time, unable to even quickly stamp out sporadic infiltrations in the villages behind the lines."

An even deeper silence fell over the small hall.

Sir Harold’s hands, resting on his knees, had unconsciously clenched into fists, the veins on their backs bulging slightly.

He avoided Murphy’s gaze, turning instead to the flickering candlelight of the wall sconces. The flames danced as two bright spots in his gray-blue eyes, as if reflecting the fierce struggle within him.

Time ticked by.

Finally, as if having reached a decision, he very slowly unclenched his fists. When he raised his head to look at Murphy again, his eyes were clear and frank, yet they also held a trace of... ineffable exhaustion and anger.