"Dragon Kings collaborating with the Empire aren’t limited to just one…"

Leon rubbed his chin and furrowed his brows in thought.

To be honest, this piece of intelligence really should’ve been quite explosive.

But after last time, when Victor was rooted out during the cleanup of their ranks, Leon had come to fully understand the Empire's darkness and the decay of its power structure.

So at this point, hearing something even more outrageous about the Empire didn’t surprise Leon at all.

"Are there any concrete clues?" Leon asked.

Roswitha shook her head. "Maureen was merely a pawn subverted by Constantine, not even significant enough to be considered part of the grand scheme—a very peripheral figure at best. When Constantine mentioned the potential existence of other Dragon Kings, he merely brought it up in passing."

"Then what exactly were his words?"

"'Just leave such trivial matters to those old fools; why on earth must I handle this?' This was said during a conversation Constantine had with another member of the Scorched Flame Dragon Clan. It happened right as Maureen was finishing her intelligence handover and leaving—she overheard him say it then."

At that, Leon's eyes lit up. "So does that mean we just need to find the member of the Scorched Flame Dragon Clan who was talking with Constantine at the time, and there’s a good chance we could trace other Dragon Kings working with the Empire?"

"That’s how it stands, but Maureen’s memories don’t provide any detailed information about that other individual present at the time. Their appearance is blurry, she didn’t even hear their voice—she was in too much of a hurry to return to Silver Dragon Castle and didn’t stay around Constantine for long."

The faint spark of hope rekindled in Leon dimmed once more.

He leaned against the table in the prison cell, pondering for a moment before speaking softly, "But at least now we know there’s someone who might hold more secrets about this conspiracy. It's not like we came away empty-handed."

Roswitha gave a fatigued smile—the side effects of the memory exploration spell hadn’t fully worn off yet. She lowered her gaze slightly, one hand discreetly bracing herself against the edge of the table, and echoed Leon quietly, "Yes, exactly."

"So if we went to the Scorched Flame Dragon Clan’s territory, there’s a chance we might uncover this person, right?"

Roswitha thought for a moment, then shook her head.

"That’s not something feasible in the short term. The fall of a Dragon King leaves their clan in significant turmoil and unpredictability. The Scorched Flame Dragon Clan, with its millennia-old history, has far more complex factions than average. Now, with Constantine’s death, the power struggle will plunge them into chaos."

"Furthermore, Constantine’s aggressive conquests over the past year have brought countless grudges upon himself. Now that he's been killed by you, less than a month ago, there must be scores of people lining up to settle old scores and seek revenge against his clan. If you were to go there to search for someone right now, you’d likely run into quite a bit of trouble."

A king considers situations with a king’s foresight.

At that moment, Roswitha was standing in the shoes of a Dragon King, helping Leon analyze the current scenario.

And her assessment was spot-on.

Judging by the clear yet naïve look on this clueless dog-man’s face, Roswitha could tell he hadn’t even considered such implications.

Then again, you couldn’t really blame him.

A battle-hardened warrior charging across the battlefield wouldn’t take much interest in the political power plays of higher-ups, would he?

"You make a fair point."

In matters of grave seriousness, Leon rarely disagreed with Roswitha.

Though the Mother Dragon had a touch of cunning to her, her expertise was beyond question.

Being a Dragon King, for her, was simply a profession—and she just so happened to be a workaholic of the highest caliber.

"But since the Scorched Flame Dragon Clan is going to be in upheaval soon, won’t the person we’re looking for possibly take advantage of the chaos to slip away—or, worse, die amidst the transfer of power?"

"Hmm… fleeing is definitely possible. But if they had Constantine’s trust enough to hold that position, any attempt at escape would likely attract attention from others, which would make finding them easier for us when the time comes."

Roswitha continued, "As for dying amidst the power struggles... yes, that’s a possibility. But if that happens, there’s nothing worth regretting. After all, even if the secret-holder dies, the secret itself remains objectively existent—it’ll still be there, waiting for us to uncover it."

Ah, behold—this is what you call professionalism.

Gathering intelligence, finding leads, analyzing situations, listing all possibilities, and finally closing with a dose of optimistic practicality—it was an all-encompassing "one-stop-shop" experience for her captive companion.

Leon mulled over Roswitha’s words carefully. Her reasoning was sharp, and her perspective as a Dragon King was certainly something worth pondering and learning from.

He couldn’t help but wonder—if he had brought Roswitha along when he returned to the Empire to deal with the traitor, would they now be skipping this whole process of scavenging for clues, having already speedran the Empire’s "instance"?

If that were the case, he, his master, and Rebecca—their little troupe of old, weak, and frail adventurers—would’ve needed a name change.

Something like "Old, Weak, Frail, and Pregnant."

But, of course, such musings were merely post-event daydreaming—Leon knew it was never a real option.

Had Roswitha been involved with the Empire back then, "risky" would’ve been grossly understatable.

"Alright, we’ll wait for a while before tracking this person down," Leon concluded.

"Okay."

The two finally cast one last glance at Maureen.

The memory extraction spell had caused damage to her brain, turning her into a dull and listless shell.

But fortunately, the intel they sought had already been obtained.

The once outwardly harmless yet inwardly cold and treacherous traitor no longer had any value left.

Neither Leon nor Roswitha expressed any emotion toward her—not even scorn.

A betrayer who abandoned their kin and their beliefs didn’t deserve any sentiment—any reaction directed toward them would be wasted energy.

The pair left the cell.

However, just a few steps away, Roswitha suddenly felt a wave of dizziness overwhelm her. Losing her balance, she stumbled backward.

Thankfully Leon reacted swiftly, catching her waist in time with a steady hand.

The broad, cool palm held her securely. And yet, the first thought that crossed her mind was, *"How about I collapse just a bit more? Let’s see how well this dumb dog-man can manage catching me."*

In the past, the Silver Dragon Queen would’ve immediately scrambled to her feet, awkwardly trying to reassure Leon that she was fine.

But now? Now her inner thoughts were brimming with amusement and intrigue, not hurried self-assertion.

*Oh dear—it's happening.*

Don’t mention it, but—things were starting to feel kind of like... a married couple.

"Are you alright?"

Leon’s voice snapped Roswitha out of her roaming thoughts.

She straightened herself up and shook her head lightly, "I’m fine. It’s just the aftereffects of the memory spell; it'll pass soon enough."

"Alright... You worked hard."

That was the second time in ten minutes he’d said that to her.

The queen gave a faint smile, muttering softly, "Looks like you have a conscience—dumbass."

Leon’s resolutely thick-skinned masculinity trembled at the direct hit of a teasing "dumbass," making him awkwardly shiver three times in quick succession.

Retracting his hand from her waist, he looked away, slightly abashed. "I’ve always had a conscience."

Roswitha crossed her arms, taking in his expression, and her playful streak instantly ignited.

Scanning her surroundings in the prison cell's vicinity, her mischief churned within her like churning silver tides.

"But a conscience alone isn’t enough to help your queen recuperate—you know, reading so many memories in one go is mentally and physically exhausting."

Leon spread his hands, "Alright, then what do you propose?"

Roswitha smirked. "Follow me—I’ll take you somewhere."

Leon narrowed his eyes warily. "What kind of… place?"

"The place," she said with an impish glint, "where dreams begin."