The Problem

As Richter's figure disappeared into the darkness outside the door, only Karl and Brendan, who had been standing silently to one side, remained in the noisy command post.

Brendan had not left. He knew that the Lord had kept him behind alone because there was something important to discuss, and that matter was very likely related to the sensitive and urgent issue of reinforcements from Fran City.

Sure enough, Karl did not beat around the bush. He turned around and looked straight at Brendan, his gaze calm yet sharp, and asked bluntly, "Brendan, there's no one else here. What do you think about Richter and Kellan's suggestion just now—that Fran City send troops to help defend Tyrol? Forget all the formalities and pleasantries. I want to hear what you really think."

Brendan drew a deep breath. He had long expected this question and had already prepared what he would say.

Meeting Karl's gaze, he spoke steadily, but without the slightest tact, going straight to the heart of the matter. "My Lord, forgive my bluntness, but bringing in Fran City's army to garrison Tyrol for the long term would be a shortsighted and shallow-minded plan—a desperate measure akin to quenching thirst with poison!"

He paused to observe Karl's reaction. Seeing that the Lord's expression remained calm, though his eyes had grown more focused, Brendan continued:

"On the surface, this would indeed solve our immediate crisis of insufficient troops and an overextended defensive line as quickly as possible. With Fran City's elite troops stationed here, Harald would certainly be wary of acting rashly, and Tyrol would appear as stable as Mount Tai. However, in the long run, the consequences would be endless!"

Brendan lowered his voice, his words carrying a profound worry. "The core of the problem is that it's easy to