"I'm very curious as to how such a large group of roaming Orcs managed to appear within our borders?" Rynar's expression was far from pleasant as he stared at Omsk before him, his face filled with displeasure and accusation.
The knights of Riverguard patrolled daily, clearing out any potential threats within a 20-kilometer radius. For a large band of Orcs to launch an attack just a few leagues away from Riverguard was more than enough to enrage Rynar.
"Apologies, Your Highness... This was our failure!" Omsk lowered his head in shame. There was no excuse for such a massive Orc force infiltrating the kingdom.
"Forget it! From now on, ensure that no large groups of Orcs are allowed within our borders! Not every citizen is as well-equipped or well-guarded as I am!" Rynar sighed. He could hardly imagine the devastation if these desperate, wandering Orcs had attacked Zaltarion's farmers while they were toiling away in the fields…
"Rest assured, Your Highness! I swear upon my knightly honor—no Orc shall set foot on our lands!" Omsk solemnly pounded his chest.
"No one can stop them from entering. The only thing we can do is clean them up in time! After all, they have legs to walk with, and we don't have a Great Wall to keep them out... As much as I hate to admit it, our borders are full of holes!" Rynar rubbed his forehead, utterly exasperated.
"From now on, station soldiers to protect the farmers! At the very least, there must be sentries on watch! I will not allow my farmers to die from an Orc ambush!" R
ynar's eyes were filled with fury. These Orcs wandering the wastelands were like a relentless plague—disgusting, unbearable, and impossible to ignore!
…
"Orc attack?" Dylan crossed his arms, glancing at the still-fuming Rynar with a teasing smirk.
"Within our borders! On my land! In the kingdom my soldiers and people protect! And we had no idea such a massive group of Orcs had moved in?!" Rynar roared, barely restraining himself from demanding an explanation from the unfortunate patrol knights.
This time, the Orcs had attacked him on his way back—what if next time they ambushed him during a royal proclamation?! (At this moment, a certain Third Prince happened to pass by, muttering curses: "This matter isn't going away anytime soon, is it?")
"But you're fine, aren't you?" Dylan shrugged nonchalantly.
"In times like these, staying alive is already a luxury! No place is truly safe! In this era where hope is almost nonexistent, we can only fight to survive.
We've always been living in crisis… That has never changed." Dylan took a sip of Leaf Dew before continuing.
"Nice drink. Next time, I'll ask the Centaurs for more!" Dylan praised the special beverage Rynar had brought back from the Centaurs.
"Sigh… Is there some kind of large-scale detection array? One that can detect enemies crossing the border from dozens of kilometers away?" Rynar finally decided to consult the kingdom's only known sage.
Dylan gave Rynar a look filled with sympathy—as if he were looking at an idiot.
"Your Highness… Do you think you're the Emperor?" Dylan chuckled bitterly.
"Back in the days of the Zaltarion Empire, His Majesty ordered the imperial sages to create a mythical-level alchemical array—the All-Seeing Eye!
That thing could monitor all evil presences within a hundred kilometers! Do you have any idea how much it cost?!" Dylan's face contorted in pain.
"How… How much?" Rynar hesitantly asked. He had seen that strange, jewel-like alchemical artifact in past games but never knew its actual price.
"That thing costs enough to fully equip a thousand-knight regiment with Sun-Moon Alloy weapons!" Dylan glanced at Rynar and dropped the bombshell.
"Pfft!" Rynar spat out his drink. What?! Equipping a thousand knights with Sun-Moon Alloy?! And what even is Sun-Moon Alloy?
To clarify—it's a fusion of Adamantine and Mithril! Given how ridiculously expensive Adamantine and Mithril are, you can imagine how valuable Sun-Moon Alloy must be.
In all his system's sign-ins, he had never once seen Sun-Moon Alloy! Adamantine Ingots and Mithril Blocks, sure—those had appeared a few times, but he had always handed them over to Dylan. But Sun-Moon Alloy? Never once.
"So, forget about it! That thing isn't something we can afford. Even if you sold this entire territory, its people, and us included, you still wouldn't be able to build one!" Dylan poured a bucket of cold water over Rynar's dreams.
"Then… is there a simplified version? A smaller one with a 20-kilometer radius?" Rynar asked.
"Still not possible! We'd need the eye of a Phantom Dragon at the very least! Where are you going to find a Phantom Dragon?
Those creatures aren't easy to hunt! As true top-tier dragonkin, ordinary people can't even scratch them.
Even the royal family's Phantom Dragon Eye was something passed down from their ancestors. You can't just find one. Phantom Dragons are second only to Silver and Gold Dragons in terms of difficulty to hunt!"
Dylan sighed, taking another sip of his drink as he gazed at Rynar with a look of pity.
"Indeed, the odds of an evil Phantom Dragon appearing are too low. Even if we did find one, we wouldn't be able to kill it.
And even if we managed to kill it, we wouldn't be able to keep the dragon's corpse…" Rynar sighed helplessly, thinking about the floating Dragon Island in the distant western seas.
For now, Zaltarion was nowhere near the former glory of the Zaltarion Empire in the game—when they had assembled a fifty-man Dragon Knight regiment that could sweep through Middle-earth.
Even Dragon Island had to consider the opinions of Dragon Knights; in a true battle, a Dragon Knight and their dragon could rival two full-grown dragons!
"Strengthen patrols, then! I'll make more magic signal flares and distribute them to the people. If they encounter danger, they can set off the signal. The rest depends on how fast our knights can respond." Dylan looked as if he had accepted his fate.
"That's all we can do…" Rynar opened his mouth, but in the end, all he could do was sigh deeply. After all, he couldn't afford to raise a large cavalry force!
The northern lands were excellent pastures, but the population, equipment, and production constraints limited his ability to train a large, cheap cavalry unit.
If he had 500 light cavalry ready at all times, his life would be much easier. At the very least, he wouldn't have to waste his valuable knights on patrol duty.
"Oh, right, Your Highness! Take a look at this! This was left to you by your ancestors! It's time it was returned to its rightful owner!"
Dylan suddenly called out to Rynar, who was about to leave. Carefully, he retrieved an old book from the spatial ring hanging around his neck and handed it to Rynar.
"What is this?" Rynar was stunned as he took the book. He could immediately tell that it was made of real paper!
"That's right! Zaltarion Paper! The treasure of the Empire! The pride of the royal family! Our secret legacy!" Dylan looked at Rynar with satisfaction, pleased that he recognized its significance.
"It will tell you what you want to know! Your Highness, please take it with you! Our line of alchemists has safeguarded it for a long time—I hope you will find it valuable!"
Dylan smiled as he bade Rynar farewell, his eyes filled with deep anticipation and nostalgia. Clearly, this book was no ordinary item.
With an overwhelming sense of curiosity, Rynar returned to his tent. Nyx had not yet returned. Seizing the opportunity, he carefully opened the book. Though it was old, it was in pristine condition—evidence of how well the alchemists had preserved it.
On the title page, three grand characters stood out:
The Language of Dragons!
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