Greycastle, the capital of the Kingdom of Graycastle, underground in the palace.

Tifieco slouched on the throne, his right hand propping up his cheek, looking somewhat impatiently at the aspirants in the hall showcasing their assassination skills.

How many idiots was this since winter began?

Perhaps he had been too lenient, allowing these clowns to come forward one after another.

He yawned, feeling a severe dryness in his eyes.

Since the Sky Dome Hall was destroyed by snow powder, he had moved the court meeting place to the basement of the palace. After some modifications, several storage rooms were connected into one area, and the space was not too small to accommodate the ministers and nobles attending the meeting. Most importantly, the place was absolutely safe, with only one entrance and exit, and above it was the magnificent palace, so no amount of snow powder would affect it. The downside was that there was no light underground, and the light source was entirely provided by pine resin torches. The torches around the wall made the indoor air extremely dry and stuffy, and the sweet and fishy smell of pine resin made him feel drowsy.

Whenever he thought of his fourth brother, Tifieco's teeth itched with hatred. If eyewitnesses hadn't noticed that the attack came from the sky, he would probably still be building watchtowers on a large scale. Since he knew that this method was impossible to defend against, he could only hold meetings here for the time being.

Roland Wimbledon will pay for this!

"Your Majesty," the aspirant's voice pulled his thoughts back to the hall, "please see, as long as the rebel king Roland dares to appear before me, I can complete the mission you entrusted to me!"

Tifieco glanced at the aspirant's front, where four throwing knives were accurately stuck in a wooden barrel twenty steps away from him.

"This is what you call a special skill?"

"Exactly, Your Majesty," he said confidently, "to be honest, I used to do this for a living, and I have killed no less than ten rats. If I strike from within the crowd, most targets won't know where the throwing knife came from until they die."

"What about the reward?" Tifieco moved his stiff body.

"Only twenty-five gold royals," the aspirant counted on his fingers, "five for expenses on the road, and for costume fees – dressing up in an inconspicuous manner makes it easier to approach the rebel king."

"Sir Weimars." The king gestured.

"Yes, Your Majesty." The Steelheart Knight drew his sword, took off his shield from his back, and walked into the hall.

"You, what do you mean?" He was stunned.

"Defeat my knight, and I will give you the reward." Tifieco winked at the knight.

The latter nodded, pulled down his visor, and walked towards him.

"Wait, wait... no, Your Majesty, this won't work," the aspirant stumbled and rolled, avoiding the knight's slash, and stammered, "I can't face it head-on... ah!"

The knight followed up with a kick that hit him hard in the abdomen, causing him to swallow the rest of his words.

After rolling twice on the ground, the aspirant weakly threw a throwing knife, but it was easily blocked by the shield. Then the knight stepped on his hand, swung his sword, and half of his arm immediately left his body, the splashing blood reflected an arc on the ground.

"My hand!" The aspirant screamed, clutching his arm and curling into a ball.

"First, the royal family is not a rat, even my foolish brother would not easily approach the crowd. Second, you are helpless against a knight, so how can you assassinate a lord with many knights guarding him? I'm afraid that once you get twenty-five gold royals, you will never come back here." Tifieco waved his hand, "Throw him out."

If it had been a month or two earlier, he wouldn't have treated these ignorant and greedy people like this. At most, he would just drive them out of the capital and order them not to come back until they got Roland's head. Those who had a slight chance of success, he gave some financial support – but so far, Roland is still alive and well.

Perhaps it was this kind of merciful attitude that led to more and more people claiming that they could solve the chaos of the rebel king, and the methods were becoming more and more absurd. There was even a guy who pulled out a tavern maid as an assassin, claiming

that the maid had excellent skills, and no man could refuse her service. It was simply nonsense! Didn't they know the difference between ordinary women and witches? They had repeatedly promoted the depraved actions of his fourth brother on the notice, so how could a lord who could keep witches be interested in such crude goods.

Tifieco breathed a long sigh of relief, giving these ignorant aspirants a little lesson should also make others restrain themselves a little.

Perhaps recruiting people from the public to quell the rebellion was a mistake in itself.

The only things that can defeat Roland are pills and snow powder.

He glanced down the hall, and after seeing that there were no outsiders, he asked the Prime Minister, "What is the progress of the snow powder weapon research now?"

According to the information collected from Changge Fortress, the reason why the miners of Border Town were able to defeat the Duke's Knights and the Berserk Militia was because they used a peculiar snow powder weapon. It should be a semi-enclosed iron pipe, using the impact force generated when the snow powder explodes to propel lead pellets to attack the target, similar to a crossbow. Tifieco paid close attention to this and immediately gathered experienced blacksmiths in the capital to start imitating this new weapon.

"Not ideal, Your Majesty," Marquis Weeke shook his head, "The blacksmiths have made a dozen such weapons based on the information, but their power is far less powerful than rumored. Only a small number can penetrate the knight's breastplate within ten steps, and it is difficult to hit the target beyond fifty steps."

"Ten steps?" Tifieco frowned, "Isn't that the same as sticking it on the knight's face? How can this stop the knight's charge?"

"Indeed, perhaps there are still some tricks that we haven't mastered... In addition, even if we gather all the blacksmiths and apprentices in the city, we can only produce twenty iron pipes a month at most, and we can't guarantee that every pipe can be used." The Marquis sighed, "To date, four iron pipes have exploded during training, and the guards are also a bit reluctant to practice this snow powder weapon."

Damn it, Border Town is many times poorer than the capital, but Roland has put together hundreds of iron pipes in one winter. He must have obtained the help of the devil.

Tifieco changed the subject irritably, "What about the pills? Has the church given a reply yet?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," the Marquis replied, "The High Priest said that the Holy City is fighting against the invasion of evil beasts and has no energy to provide more Berserk Pills for the time being. He hopes that we can patiently wait until the end of the Evil Moon before talking."

"I don't want to see the traitor still safely staying in the Western Territory castle, not even for one more day!"

It seems that he has to write a personal letter to Hermes Holy City, Tifieco thought bitterly. If they want to recruit believers in Greycastle in the future, they have to exchange it for pills.

Just as he was about to announce the end of today's court meeting, Foreign Minister Sir Brint suddenly stepped forward and said, "Your Majesty, the envoy from the Kingdom of Dawn arrived in the capital today and hopes to be received by you."