War

“The dwarves' stance is that our wine prices are too high.”

“Prices too high?”

Duke Edliman slammed his wine glass onto the ground, completely ignoring the shattered glass scattered everywhere. He marched over to Robo, grabbed him by the collar, and roared, spit flying:

“Have those bearded fools had their brains crushed by rocks?! That wasn't what they said when we signed the century-long supply contract!”

“Actually, we can't blame the dwarves entirely.”

Robo offered a wry, strained smile and continued, “The main issue is that the mixologist in the God-Forsaken Land is selling at such a low price. Naturally, those dwarves are going to choose the cheaper option. I'm starting to wonder if that mixologist is running a charity...”

“Enough!”

The old duke barked, letting go of Robo's collar. He turned to face the mural on the wall. “They truly are a disgusting pack of vermin.”

Robo raised an eyebrow and asked with some confusion, “Father, should we lower our prices then?”

“No!”

Duke Edliman turned back around, a cold light flickering in his cloudy eyes. “That goddamn bitch who crawled out of some forgotten corner... she is openly defying us!”

“Bang!”

His voice grew louder and louder as he slammed his right hand heavily onto the table.

Feeling the stinging pain in his palm, the old duke grimaced. Gritting his teeth, he hissed, “Have Renn go... bring back the recipe for that stuff, and kill that little bitch while he's at it!”

“Father.”

Robo glanced at the red wine on the table and said rather helplessly, “But the ‘little bitch’ you speak of has already unified more than half of the God-Forsaken Land...”

The old duke froze, and Robo continued:

“For her to integrate those uncivilized savages in such a short time, she must be quite powerful. Combined with those wild tribes, if they were to swarm him, even a Gold Rank Grand Warrior like Renn might not stand a chance...”

“Shit!”

Duke Edliman took two deep breaths, his chest heaving. His head spun. He hadn't expected so much chaos to erupt just a few decades after he stepped down to retire.

In his agitation, he grabbed the wine bottle from the table and took several large gulps.

“Gulp, gulp, gulp...”

Robo did not stop him, simply watching in silence. He knew his father loved wine more than life itself and would drink endlessly whenever he was troubled. In contrast, despite coming from a family of generations of vintners, Robo was an oddity who didn't drink a single drop.

Duke Edliman downed the entire bottle in one breath, then, clutching the empty bottle, leaned against the table to ease himself back onto the wicker chair.

His aging body could no longer handle alcohol well. Under its influence, the old duke felt as though the figure before him was being stretched out like dough.

Yet, a faint smile remained on Robo's youthful face.

It was as if everything happening now was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

Just as Robo knew his father's temperament inside out, Duke Edliman was well aware of his youngest son's intelligence. He knew that Robo's smile meant he already had a plan.

After a brief silence to clear his head, the old duke spoke. “Robo, you are my most beloved child. Do you have a solution?”

His tone was incredibly gentle, a complete contrast to his earlier outburst, though the wrinkles on his face seemed to have deepened.

Robo spread his hands in a casual shrug. “Father, it is actually quite simple. We just need to start a war.”

“A war?” Duke Edliman frowned.

“Yes, Father,” Robo continued.

“The wine trade between the Eastern Kingdoms and the Dwarven Empire is like a giant block of cheese. Our Duchy of Reny was built on the wine trade. Ever since Grandfather acquired this territory, we have monopolized most of the wine business in this region. We are, without a doubt, the big cat guarding this cheese.”

“As for those independent mixologists and the mixologists of other factions, they are merely little mice trying to steal a bite.”

“Since Grandfather passed away, those independent mixologists we once suppressed have begun to crawl back out. The cheese is only so big. The more they eat, the less we get.”

“This mixologist in the God-Forsaken Land is simply the largest of these cheese-stealing mice.”

“We need to crush her with a powerful war. We must show those mice who dream of stealing our cheese that the big cat of the Duchy of Reny is still strong.”

“Mhm...” The old duke looked at his youngest son with immense admiration.

“I must admit, my child, you look very much like your grandfather did in his youth.”

“But how do you plan to launch this war?”

“Our army cannot fly. How will they cross the Great Gana Forest? How will they cross the Ersencielo River?”

“It is simple.” Robo knelt down and began picking up the glass shards one by one. “Father, we do not need to go through the Great Gana Forest. Instead, we can use the Dwarven Empire as a stepping stone to enter the God-Forsaken Land.”

“I have received reliable information that they have recently been excavating an underground passage that crosses beneath the Ersencielo River.”

“The Dwarven Empire unilaterally tore up our century-long contract, so they already owe us an explanation.”

“With nearly a century of friendship between us, and considering those fools who do nothing but mine and drink all day are not particularly bright, they will not refuse us the use of this passage if we are willing to offer some compensation.”

“Although this expedition will be costly, ever since that mysterious mixologist rose to power and absorbed those beastkin tribes, the slave merchants traveling to and from the God-Forsaken Land have basically gone bankrupt.”

“After years of recovery, the God-Forsaken Land is more than twice as prosperous as before, and the number of newborns must have skyrocketed.”

“If our campaign succeeds, we can seize this opportunity to monopolize the slave trade. When that time comes, not only will we reclaim our massive share of the Dwarven Empire's market, but we will also secure a substantial extra source of income.”

“What do you think, Father?”

As his voice faded, the flames in Robo's hand died out. He gently placed two glowing red glass marbles onto the mahogany table, scorching the wood and sending up a wisp of dark smoke.

Duke Edliman gazed deeply at the young man before him, caressing the glass bottle in his hand as if it were a young girl's skin. After a long silence, he finally spoke:

“Go ahead and do it, my child. I trust you will not disappoint me.”