In the Greycastle reception hall, Roland quietly sized up the old man before him.

He sat in a wheelchair, his hair graying, his cheeks sunken, and the wrinkles on his forehead deeply etched, clearly nearing the end of his days. However, compared to his age, his pupils lacked the muddiness one might expect, still appearing full of life. The monocle perched on his nose and the black bow tie fastened around his neck further emphasized this impression. As Roland studied him, he, too, was scrutinizing Roland.

After a moment, Roland broke the silence, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "It wasn't easy to invite you here from Dawn. Welcome to the new royal capital of Greycastle, Barrihear Lothar, and thank you for your hard work."

"To receive an audience with the King of Greycastle is an honor..." The other man lowered his head slightly. "But I wonder what instructions His Majesty has for me?"

"You've already contributed much to Greycastle and need not accomplish anything more."

"I?" He visibly displayed a surprised expression. "Your Majesty, are you mistaken about something?"

Generally, at this age, a person's thought process slows down significantly, manifesting as slurred speech and hesitations. However, Barrihear not only responded immediately but also controlled his facial muscles to feign surprise, demonstrating that his mind never ceased to think. Compared to the irreversible decline of his body, his consciousness likely reflected his true state more accurately.

"I know you have concerns, but rest assured, I harbor no ill intentions towards Black Money," Roland said, spreading his hands. "The 'Messenger of God' who delivers messages to you is also a member of Neverwinter. In fact, it was I who instructed them to send the message."

Using Pasha's words, under the pretext that the transformation ritual was opportune, Barrihear was summoned to Greycastle. After confirming the target, he was forcibly brought back to the castle. This approach, while somewhat crude, was straightforward.

"Your Majesty... I don't quite understand your meaning..."

"It doesn't matter, I'll make it clear to you – it's a twisted tale, but it really did happen." Roland broadly recounted the past of the ancient witches and also mentioned the essence of the God's Punishment Army transformation ritual. Soul containers could only collect the consciousness of those who possessed magic power; in other words, those without magic could only become empty shells.

Becoming a self-less body also fit the ancient witches' claims of prolonging life in a way. If Black Money was only a normal underground merchant association, he wouldn't care too much. However, during the battle against the demons' western front army, Black Money made significant contributions, not only assisting the First Army in supporting the intelligence networks of Wolfheart and Eternal Winter but also sending out key intelligence multiple times to fill the witches' reconnaissance gaps in the Red Mist Zone.

Perhaps Barrihear didn't do this for the fate of humanity or to save his compatriots, but the contribution was real. Roland didn't think that turning such a meritorious person into an mindless puppet was an appropriate reward, which was why he decided to meet with him personally.

After a long while, Barrihear Lothar slowly took off his reading glasses, his voice slightly trembling. "You mean to say, immortality is just a hoax?"

Roland sighed softly. "As it stands now, those who can maintain youth while retaining consciousness must be magic possessors. For humans, that would be witches."

Even he, who had pioneered the Dream World, could not be sensed by the Soul Container.

"But after drinking those potions, my body has indeed improved..."

"Those potions aren't completely useless. They increase the success rate of the ritual by overdrawing your vitality, but it can't be used indefinitely," Roland interrupted, shaking his head. "Soon, its side effects will appear, which is why I urgently sought you out."

Barrihear paused for a moment. "You mean, I don't have much time left..."

"I'm sorry," Roland said regretfully. "I can't fulfill that promise perfectly, but I can compensate in other ways. Black Money protected witches and contributed to the Battle of Divine Will. You can ask for anything you want, it can be regarded as a well-deserved reward."

Nightingale had asked him why he didn't let Pasha and the others solve this problem themselves. Coming forward as the king meant that the consequences of this deception would also be transferred to Greycastle.

Her idea wasn't wrong, but Roland knew that since Greycastle had fully accepted the Taquila witches, it couldn't just enjoy the benefits they brought. Bearing the blame on their behalf was also an obligation included in "acceptance."

"..." Barrihear was silent for a long time. "Can you handle even the affairs in Dawn?"

"You should know my influence in the Kingdom of Dawn."

"Then I can rest assured." Unexpectedly, he didn't despair or become hysterical, but showed a calm smile. "I wanted to live longer to protect Black Money’s business for my children. If I die, other noble merchants will definitely not let go of the opportunity to divide it. And in the face of great enough interests, a few lives are insignificant. If Your Majesty is willing to intervene, I don't think anyone would dare to act rashly. This is even more reliable than my own immortality. With that being the case, what can I complain about?"

Roland pondered for a short while. "Are you sure this is the reward you want?"

"Your Majesty, could it be... impossible?"

"It's not that it can't be done." He paused. "I wonder if you've heard of the name Rainbow Stone?"

"I've heard of it," Barrihear thought for a moment. "It seems to be a newly emerging clothing business in your country. It's grown quite large, and some finished products have even been sold to Dawn – but to be honest, in terms of style and design, it's far inferior to ours."

Because the craftsmen Victor found were all from the Lothar family... and he didn't tell you that in Neverwinter City, these clothes only cost one-tenth the price of other hand-woven clothes. Roland coughed twice. "As far as I know, the behind-the-scenes founder of this clothing business is Victor Lothar, your fourth son. In addition, the income of the clothing business has exceeded ten thousand gold royals to date. With this talent, I don't think he will easily lose to those merchant families even without Greycastle as a backer."

Ten thousand gold royals was by no means a small amount. In the past, only Chaos Drinks could exceed this amount in Neverwinter – the reason was simple: not everyone needed drinks, but everyone had to wear clothes. As Neverwinter’s population becomes highly centralized, the scale of basic needs will only further expand. Compared to the foreseeable profits of large-scale industrial production, the turnover of the underground chamber of commerce is not worth mentioning at all.

This time, Barrihear truly showed a surprised expression. "Your Majesty, is what you said... true? He has rarely contacted me since he left Radiance City... I thought he was still doing the jewelry business before..."

"Victor is in Neverwinter now. It's not difficult for you to see him. It's better to verify whether it's true or false in person. But... you have to hurry."

"Yes... I understand." Barrihear couldn't help but grab the wheels, and this action obviously exposed his thoughts. "Please allow me to take my leave, Your Majesty."

Roland nodded and was about to ask the guard to send him out when he suddenly said again, "You said that my time is running out... then can you let me spend my last moment on that floating island?"

"..." Roland closed his eyes. "If that's what you wish."

After the door closed, Nightingale revealed herself and muttered in a low voice, "Strange..."

"What's wrong?"

"His initial reaction was a little strange. It can't be said that he was lying, but the magic power gave me a very vague feeling, not as calm as he showed." Nightingale shrugged.

"I see," Roland said thoughtfully.

"You know why?"

"Probably." He slowed his voice, turned his head and looked out the window. "Things like longevity are always tempting. If expectations are not met, no one will accept it easily."

"But that's not a lie," Nightingale emphasized.

"Because he knows that there is nothing he can do to change this outcome." Roland said with some emotion, "Since it can't be changed, then it must be accepted - rather than making enemies with the King of Greycastle full of resentment, it is better to pretend to be open-minded and curry favor. Any unnecessary emotions will become sunk costs. This is probably what he thinks. Many people understand this, but very few can really do it... This is where he is great."

He understood somewhat why these big merchants were treated like nobles in Dawn - this ability to control and the awareness to stop losses, even if they were in politics, they could surpass most nobles.

"But you -" Speaking of this, Roland couldn't help but look at Nightingale, "Now you can not only distinguish between truth and falsehood, but you can even feel the inner emotions. Are you about to evolve?"

"Do you think I would deliberately not say if I evolved – or, would I still be so modest?" Nightingale glared at him unhappily.

Uh, that makes a lot of sense.

Roland wisely shut his mouth.