Aegon brought the drenched and unsettled middle-aged man to the command room of The Quiet.
The room was brightly lit by candles, with wooden racks fixed to the walls to prevent items from sliding, stacked with nautical charts, tools, and a few books.
Without Aegon saying a word, a standing guard from the Bloodsworn immediately took a roll of thick, yellowed parchment tied with string from a nearby shelf and respectfully handed it over with both hands.
Aegon took it and spread it out on the large oak desk in the center.
Lines and markings gradually appeared on the rough parchment surface.
It was a map depicting the Rhis City-State and its surrounding waters.
"What is your name?" Aegon asked calmly, his gaze still fixed on the map as his fingers unconsciously traced the outline of Rhis's city walls.
"Lo... Logaro, my lord," the middle-aged man answered quickly, his voice still trembling slightly from his brush with death, yet his eyes were fixed on the map as if it were his last lifeline.
Aegon didn't look up, merely tapping the area of the Rhis City-State on the map with his fingertip.
"Come here. Tell me everything you know: Rhis's current defenses, patrol patterns, troop distribution, and especially the locations where the elites are stationed."
"Do not omit anything, and do not exaggerate."
"Yes! My lord!" Logaro nearly lunged toward the table, his rough fingers leaving water stains as he urgently pointed at the map. "Here, the eastern wall, the section near the Old Port District—usually about five hundred men are stationed there."
"But they are just auxiliary troops with terrible equipment, only wearing uniform-colored surcoats and carrying shortswords."
He spoke quickly but with reasonable clarity, his fingers moving across the map. "City patrols are mainly concentrated at the junction of the Commercial District and the Upper District, especially at night."
"A squad every four hours, about twenty men per squad, also lightly armed... The real trouble is here, around the Perfume Garden, the area connected to the Magister's residence."
His finger stopped on the carefully drawn complex of the Perfume Garden and the Magister's residence, his fingertip trembling slightly. "The Magister of Lys purchased five hundred Unsullied from Slaver's Bay a few years ago at a high price to serve as his private guard."
"These eunuch warriors are stationed at the key passages outside the Magister's residence and the garden. They are well-equipped, highly disciplined, and their combat strength is... terrifying. They were the biggest obstacle in our previous plan."
He paused, seemingly gathering his thoughts, then looked up at Aegon with a desperate glint in his eyes. "My lord, in my humble opinion, we might not need to clash head-on with those Unsullied."
"We can use the fleet to launch a direct raid on the harbor! Currently, the main force of Rhis's fleet is partly monitoring the Mercenary groups and partly guarding against Tyrosh and Myr. The harbor defenses are bound to be empty!"
"We quickly take control of the harbor, then strike straight for the Magister's residence! After rescuing the young lady, we immediately withdraw from the harbor and return to the sea! If we move fast enough, those Unsullied might not even have time to react!"
The plan was simple, even crude. Its core was to exploit the Magister of Lys's current divided attention and his assumption that internal threats had been eliminated, striking during that window.
For a loyal servant who was desperate and only wanted to save the last bloodline of his master's house, this was perhaps the best plan he could devise.
Aegon listened quietly, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the map, producing soft thuds.
His violet eyes were deep, revealing no emotion.
Rescue? Withdrawal?
No. That was never what he wanted.
His fingers moved away from the simple "harbor-residence-harbor" arrows Logaro had outlined, slowly covering the entire map of the Rhis City-State.
His gaze swept over every tower on the city walls, the layout of every major street, and every building where troops might be stationed.
What he wanted was not a successful raid or rescue.
What he wanted was this wealthy city-state itself, with its excellent deep-water harbor!
Rescuing someone? That was just... incidental.
"Here," Aegon's finger pressed firmly on a city gate in the northeast corner of the wall, near the Old Port District. "Control this, and we can keep reinforcements from the eastern barracks out of the city for at least two hours."
"This street," his finger traced a wide main road in the inner city, "leads directly to the Central Square. Occupying the square is equivalent to seizing the hub for communication and troop movement in the inner city."
"The Perfume Garden and the Unsullied..." His fingertip hovered over the Magister's residence area. "There's no need for a frontal assault. Use fire, use smoke, create chaos, and pin them down to protecting the core buildings."
"Our main force will be used to clear the Rhis army within the city and control the harbor and key points."
His voice was steady and clear, as if he were stating an established fact rather than a crazy plan.
Every command corresponded to a point or a line on the map.
He was conducting a deduction on a chessboard, and the chessboard was all of Rhis.
Henry, Karl, Luke, and several of the most ferocious Skull Squad leaders who had been specifically summoned were all gathered around the table, listening with bated breath.
Some nodded, fierce and excited glints in their eyes; some frowned slightly, thinking about the execution details; but no one showed any sign of fear or hesitation.
Following His Highness the Dragon Lord, riding a giant dragon, sweeping through the Stepstones, and now going to attack a city-state?
It sounded startling, but... if His Highness said it could be done, then it could be done!
They had already developed a near-blind confidence in Aegon, especially after witnessing the world-shaking thunder at The Abyss of Torture.
On the side, Logaro grew more alarmed and terrified the more he listened.
He initially thought Aegon was refining the rescue route, but he soon realized it wasn't like that at all!
This wasn't a rescue plan; it was clearly aimed at occupying the Rhis City-State.
He felt the blood in his body turn cold.
What exactly did this silver-haired youth want to do? Who did he think he was? Leading a group of pirates to attack a Free City?!
Seeing Aegon's planning become more specific, even starting to assign tasks and target blocks to various teams.
Logaro could no longer restrain himself. He took a sharp breath and, with a final glimmer of faint hope, interrupted Aegon with a trembling voice:
"M... My lord! Please... please forgive my insolent interruption!" He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice from cracking.
"Your... your plan is grand and ambitious... but, I wonder how many troops my lord has actually acquired in the Stepstones? How many... how many men do we have to execute this... plan?"
He still held onto a shred of fantasy—perhaps this lord had gathered a massive army in the Stepstones?
Otherwise, this plan was simply crazy enough to be laughable and terrifying enough to be suffocating.
Aegon stopped his finger moving on the map, turned his head slightly, and glanced at Logaro. His gaze was calm and rippleless, as if he were merely answering an inconsequential question.
"Eight hundred," he said flatly.
"How... how many?" Logaro suspected something was wrong with his ears. He asked subconsciously, his voice dry.
Luke, standing not far from Aegon, frowned, dissatisfied with this middle-aged man who repeatedly questioned His Highness.
He stepped forward and repeated clearly, "Eight hundred. Eight hundred fighting men. Did you hear that clearly?"
Eight hundred... This number was like a final heavy hammer blow to Logaro's heart, smashing his last bit of unrealistic fantasy to pieces.
Eight hundred men?
Using eight hundred men to attack and attempt to occupy Rhis—a city with nearly ten thousand troops, solid walls, five hundred elite Unsullied, and likely even more noble private guards?!
Insane! This was absolutely insane! This wasn't a risk; it was suicide! It was dragging everyone, including him and the young lady he so desperately wanted to save, into the abyss!
Logaro froze on the spot, the color draining completely from his face. His lips trembled, but he could make no sound.
He as if already saw the ending.
These eight hundred men would be like moths to a flame, crashing against the solid walls of Rhis, against the cold spears of the Unsullied, against the thick stone walls of the Magister's residence, being smashed to pieces with nothing left.
And the young lady... the last hope of rescue would be completely extinguished along with them.
Aegon, however, seemed not to notice Logaro's suddenly pale and hopeless expression.
His gaze returned to the map, his finger pointing to another key node.
"This is the priority," his voice remained steady, carrying a cold focus. "This bottleneck road leading from the inner city to the Wharf District."
"Blocking this will cut off most of the connection between the inner city guards and the harbor, leaving them unable to support each other and exhausted from running back and forth."
"This way, we only need to hold out for a while to prevent the army from gathering. Meanwhile, I will ride my dragon to personally take the Magister's head and parade it around; Rhis might then be pacified by decree."
He paused and finally looked up, his violet eyes sweeping over everyone at the table, lingering for a moment on Logaro's completely dazed face.
"Of course, the premise of all this is that the intelligence you provided is accurate enough, and... that the current situation in Rhis is still as lax as it was when you fled."
He turned his gaze to Karl. "Once we are close to Rhis, there's no need to enter the harbor."
"Lower a few skiffs, send some clever brothers in plain clothes to sneak into the city. They don't need to do anything else, just use their eyes to see and ears to listen."
"See if the guards on the city walls are lax, if the patrols are tight, and if the area around the Perfume Garden and the Magister's residence is truly as we expect—tense on the outside but loose on the inside."
"I want the latest news in one day."
"Yes! Your Highness!" Karl immediately took the order.
Only then did Aegon seem to remember Logaro's original purpose.
He looked at the middle-aged man, who was slumped against the table with hollow eyes, and added flatly, "As for your young lady... I will go to the Magister's residence personally."
Go personally? How? Logaro was dazed.
Aegon didn't explain but continued, "After we get the latest intelligence and finalize the plan, I need you to do one thing."
"Me?" Logaro started.
"Yes. You need to find a way to return to Rhis." Aegon stared into his eyes.
"Contact any strongholds or secret agents of House Hain in the city that might not have been exposed yet."
"They don't need to fight to the death. They just need to create some chaos in several important places in the city before our scheduled attack—set fire to warehouses, spread rumors that the tyroshi or Myrmen have invaded."
"It doesn't have to be on a large scale, but it must distract the guards and create better opportunities for our main force's landing and initial assault."
Logaro listened to this task in a daze.
This was no different from sending him back to his death, making him and those potential surviving agents bait to draw fire, fuel to ignite chaos.
Using their lives to add even a sliver of a chance to this extremely crazy raid.
Using eight hundred men to attack Rhis was madness.
Sending him back to start a fire in the enemy's heart was equally certain death.
But... this seemed to be the only possible way to save the young lady.
Follow this crazy silver-haired youth on this suicidal raid.
Or, do nothing and wait for the young lady to suffer in the Magister's dungeon and then vanish silently along with the last name of House Hain.
Despair, like a cold tide, submerged him once again.
But in the depths of this despair, a flame that was equally cold but even more determined quietly ignited.
"I... will go."
He slowly stood up straight.
The panic, fear, and despair on his face gradually faded, replaced by a resigned calm and a ruthlessness that cast everything aside.
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