The Old Spymaster's Ploy

Upon hearing this sentence, Jorgen's hands remained tense. Refusal to cooperate, the meeting's end – it couldn't be that simple. He glanced at the envelope pressed beneath the old man's finger. When had that appeared? What did the old man intend to do with it?

In that moment, there was a subtle change in the hardness of Farad's gaze and tension in his facial muscles. He did not hide his disappointment but maintained an assertive attitude.

"Have you genuinely considered all the conditions I presented?" he asked.

"There's no doubt," the old man responded.

"Besides obtaining long-term intelligence beneficial to the MI7, there's also the name of a potentially significant traitor—"

"No need to repeat it. In addition, I have a warning to issue."

Farad leaned back slightly. "A warning? About what?"

"It's precisely about the individual you believe is a traitor. Do not attempt to reveal this name to anyone associated with MI7 in any way. Not only in Stormwind, but anywhere else as well. Otherwise, it will be regarded as your personal act of open hostility against MI7."

Jorgen felt strongly that he had become the focus of the situation, even if the old man and Farad had not indicated it. He did not feel relieved. Perhaps the old man intended to address it privately, without the involvement of Farad. Nobody loathed traitors more than the old man, and he must have had enough confidence and an absolute understanding of the situation to refuse so resolutely, even issuing a warning.

He already knew.

"That's rather impolite," Farad said. "Perhaps you should explain the reason."

"For a question this obvious, explaining it would only make others further doubt Ravenholt's ability to handle intelligence. It's unconfirmed intelligence, part of the terms of the conversation, and includes content that hints at internal conflicts within MI7. Without my confirmation, it's merely a rumor. I warn you not to spread rumors harmful to MI7, Farad. You should understand that."

Farad furrowed his brow slightly, took a deep breath, and did his best to conceal his anger. After the old man's explanation, his earlier question made him seem like a novice unfamiliar with the world. He said, "Don't tell me you've negated the entire cooperation plan simply because you don't trust this additional intelligence?"

The old man lifted his finger off the envelope.

"Jorgen."

"Yes," Jorgen immediately replied, his tone casual but only out of habit.

"Come here." The old man picked up the letter. "First, look at the back of the envelope and tell us what you see."

Jorgen approached and took the letter, and the old man did not look at him. He turned the letter over and then said, "It bears the Ravenholt's seal."

"Open it and read its contents to us," the old man commanded.

Jorgen retrieved the letter, quickly glanced over its contents, and then began to read aloud. During this process, he could feel Farad's gaze locked onto him.

"Your Excellency Panthonia Shawl: Farad's visit to MI7 is a personal endeavor. If he presents any plans or proposals to you, they are independent decisions made without detailed consultation with me and do not represent the position of Ravenholt Manor. For the sake of the prospects and mutual relations between MI7 and Ravenholt Manor, exercise caution in response to Farad's words and actions. Jorach Ravenholt."

"I believe everyone in the room has understood," the old man said.

"Pass the letter over," Farad said.

Jorgen glanced at the old man and, with his approval, walked over to Farad. When Farad took the letter from Jorgen's hand, their eyes met. The hostility in Farad's eyes was evident, not only directed at Jorgen but also against the entire process and the strong resistance and dissatisfaction representing all potential consequences.

Jorgen returned to his original position.

Farad only glanced at the letter and then stopped reading further. A personal guard asked to look at it, but Farad said nothing, just pinched a corner of the paper and pointed it towards the guard, who took the letter and scrutinized it closely, holding it near his eyes. After a moment, he looked up and said, "It's Lord Jorach's handwriting."

"When did this letter arrive?" Farad inquired.

"Three days ago. No further explanation is necessary, Farad," the old man said. "If you truly enjoy Stormwind's food and scenery, then please, by all means, enjoy them. But don't come to waste my time again."

Farad fell silent for a moment, then stood up. "We should be going. Regardless, it's unfortunate this time, but I hope the door for future cooperation between MI7 and Ravenholt isn't closed."

"Of course not," the old man said. "As long as you can make adequate preparations, we can still talk. By the way, you can take the letter with you."

"No, thank you," Farad said to the guard, who still held the letter. "Put it down."

The guard hesitated, as Farad was already standing and there was no platform to place the letter on. After another "Put it down" from Farad, the guard could only let the letter fall to the ground. Then, they left.

"The meeting is over," the old man stated. "Today's schedule is tight. We can't let outsiders waste your time, and of course, you shouldn't waste your own. Everyone, go about your tasks. Jorgen, stay."

People quickly dispersed. Jorgen moved from the old man's side to stand in the center of the room. The thin letter now lay not far from his heel. This was the one thing he had accurately anticipated: a one-on-one meeting with the old man today. The old man hadn't left behind even his guards, which led Jorgen to believe that he had escaped disciplinary action, at least for now. His inner urgency and anxiety gave way to a tension maintained in silence. Unlike the previous time, today, he wasn't contemplating the possibility of attacking the old man.

"That letter," the old man said, "I wrote it."

Jorgen hadn't anticipated the conversation starting this way. He couldn't choose an appropriate response; he could only wait for the old man to continue.

"That was a long time ago, we were all very young. Very young. To facilitate our joint operations and to confuse the enemy about potential intelligence, we learned each other's accents, handwriting, and habits," the old man said as he pressed his throat. "Now, my throat no longer obeys, but my fingers still do. It seems you are the third person to know of this."

"Ah, yes..." Jorgen still didn't know what to say. According to the old man, he had employed this strategy in a situation that wasn't completely clear, taking a certain risk. However, what left Jorgen at a loss for words was the natural undercurrent of sadness in the old man's confession — the lamentation of his body's decay.

"Do you think this letter will serve any purpose?" the old man asked.

"Even if Farad suspects the letter is a forgery, you've provided a legitimate reason for refusing him in front of everyone," Jorgen replied.

"Perhaps Farad should take the letter back for verification."

"He can't do that, as it would further deepen the conflict between Jorach and him. This is what you've utilized, and it will become clear shortly... many will learn about MI7, a prudent organization, refusing to cooperate irrationally with Ravenholt. Of course, there will be reactions within Ravenholt as well, but that's something I can't predict for the moment."

Given the chance to carefully analyze the current situation in his mind, Jorgen's anxiety had nearly dissipated. He had no intention of mentioning the "potential traitor," and he believed the old man wouldn't bring it up either.

"Farad's proposal is indeed a cooperation plan with significant risks that almost everyone can see. But from a moral perspective, it's entirely justifiable. So, I needed the most reasonable way to refuse it," the old man continued. "Jorgen, your analysis earlier was accurate, almost as if you were voicing my thoughts directly. You must teach these thought processes to Matthias."

"I will, Your Excellency." At this moment, aside from simply agreeing with the old man's views, Jorgen didn't feel he had much else to do. But he was bothered by the phrase "almost as if you were voicing my thoughts." I don't intend to replace you.

"What I need is not just words but actions. How your actions bear fruit... will become clear over time. Jorgen, when Jorach and I were young, we were not only the best partners but also the best of friends. At that time, like almost every young person, I believed that friendship and honesty were the prerequisites for becoming comrades. I believe you might have had similar thoughts. Many years later, I caused trouble between Jorach and Farad, but I didn't feel ashamed because to succeed, any person or endeavor must learn to shed excess baggage. To shed the past, to let go of ineffective promises, foolish decisions, and so on. Everyone should learn this."

"I understand your point."

"You must prove this." The old man said, "Find Dalia and do something for me."