Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 382 - 381: The Day That Changed History

Regarding the restless movements from the southern aristocracy and church, Gawain felt no surprise at all—in fact, in a way, it was the very actions he had strategically incited step by step.

The alchemical potions business, which nearly shattered the original market, the revolutionary Magic Web technology, the mining machinery—these brought unprecedented wealth to the southern aristocracy, but at the same time, even the dimmest of these aristocrats realized that they were gradually being economically influenced and controlled by the Cecil Clan. On the other hand, through Viscount Andrew of Tanzan Town acting as an "agent," nearly half of the current ore business in the south had fallen into the hands of the Cecil-Leslie alliance, suppressing those aristocratic leaders who happened to command the greatest military forces in the south—after all, controlling ore meant controlling resources for forging weapons, which meant the ability to build and maintain a powerful army.

Therefore, the southern nobles, especially the wealthiest and most powerful ones, were bound to consider Cecil a foe sooner or later.

"Gold and silver flow beneath Cecil’s land, and its ruler possesses an ’Achilles’ heel’ open to attack,"—in this era, no one could resist such temptation.

On another front, since last winter, a large influx of Otherworldly God believers from the Plains of the Holy Spirits into the territory had been constantly provoking the nerves of the Holy Light Church. Those missionaries could hardly stir any waves in the south, but if the southern nobles were to confront Cecil at this very moment, then the Holy Light Church would have the opportunity to enter the region—it was only natural.

Gawain understood well that these changes were inevitable and bound to occur—if he aimed to establish his new order in this world, a clash with existing traditional powers would eventually happen. In such transformations involving foundational rules, no room for compromise existed; everything ultimately hinged on force. Hence, after realizing this, Gawain knew exactly what he had to do: silently prepare to speak with strength and await when the traditional nobility and church could no longer hold back from making their move.

Aunt Heidi was also intelligent; upon noticing Gawain’s demeanor, she knew the patriarch had been orchestrating for this situation all along. Yet, one thing puzzled her: "Ancestor, why do you insist on waiting for them to strike first? You know, in terms of legal authority, you always have the justification to launch a preemptive attack without worrying about any moral dilemmas—after all, all the land the southern nobles occupy was once your bestowed territory..."

"It’s simple: the land is vast and sparsely populated," Gawain replied casually. Observing the confusion still on Heidi’s face, he resignedly added, "Let them gather first, so that with just one round of saturation bombardment and barrage of ray guns from our side, it’s done, sparing us from fighting across each stretch of the southern territories."

Heidi: "..."

Of course, Gawain said this partly in jest. Strategically he could disregard the enemy, but tactically he must take them seriously—even if they were archaic and stubborn, unfamiliar with the might of Cecil firearms, the militant forces they held still posed some threat. Hence, drawing a sheet from the blank notepaper beside him, Gawain rapidly penned two lines and handed them to Heidi: "This letter is for Viscountess Gran."

Heidi glanced at the letter’s content, which simply stated: "The time has come to settle accounts; take stock of the inventory soon."

After Heidi left, Gawain rose and moved to the map depicting the entire southern region, falling deep into thought.

In truth, although he had long prepared for armed conflict with the world’s traditional powers, Gawain hadn’t intended to thrust his still-developing domain into a state of war so prematurely, barring changes in the situation.

Initially, his plan was to quietly develop the territory, pushing southward to reclaim new lands and establish industrial zones. Only after securing overwhelmingly dominant power would he confront and subdue all those encroaching aristocrats.

However, plans could hardly catch up with changes. With negotiations between Typhon and Anzu commencing, regardless of whether a peace agreement would be smoothly signed, the currently stable situation of the southern territories was bound to change—war would need no elaboration; if peace were achieved, then after resolving external threats temporarily, Anzu’s royal family might well shift attention to the rapidly rising Cecil, who persistently challenged the traditional order in the south.

Francis II was no fool. He tolerated the Cecil family’s re-emergence on the stage and their vigorous activity in the south not because he approved, but because he was unable to solve internal and external problems. He wished not to add the stain of disrespecting ancestral lines to the already controversial royal bloodline, nor did he want to hand the unsupportive aristocrats new excuses for dissent.

Besides the potential changes brought about by Typhon and Anzu’s royal family, there were also the increasingly bizarre and frantic activities of the Holy Light Church, and the complexities posed by various small and large forces within the south...

Taking into account all these factors, Gawain realized he must address these external troubles shortly, at the minimum establishing thorough control over the southern situation—transforming this relatively isolated land into a stable hinterland for himself.

He had pledged before Francis II and all the aristocrats of the capital not to "proactively" make legal claims over the current land allocations of the south, even though, leveraging his status as "ancestor," he could forcibly declare it now. Yet, Gawain preferred to make his actions more justified.

Preferably, to have those southern aristocrats jump forth on their own.

Undoubtedly, they had the motivations and reasons to leap forth—not only due to the inherent greed of the aristocracy, nor because Gawain Cecil’s reforms truly stirred their "righteous indignation," but because the very resurgence of the Cecil family in the south was enough to make ninety percent of the rulers in these lands stand on edge.

While the Cecil was weak, they might not perceive the threat, but with every additional strength the Cecil gained, so too did the hostility from various noble powers in the south grow. After all, they thrived by sharing in Cecil’s ancestral holdings. In some sense, the Cecil Clan held legal claims over the entire southern territories.

Since their animosity would inevitably erupt, Gawain didn’t mind giving them a little nudge, prompting them to unite sooner.

Thus, the second division of the 25th Production and Construction Brigade under the Intelligence Agency devised a plan, executed by the 25th Production and Construction Brigade, adept at grasping the big picture, gathering intelligence, spreading rumors, and fabricating military reports (passively).

As expected, those southern nobles, who already harbored watchfulness and hostility towards the Cecil Clan, couldn’t resist jumping forth...

Those following old traditions might not have the courage for an all-out war with the ancestor, so they likely intended just a small leap, using a conflict of low intensity to demonstrate towards the Cecil Clan. Then, per the "noble game," they planned to extract some benefits from the Cecil Clan through extortion, but...

Once they jumped forth, the scale of this "friction" was no longer theirs to decide.

Withdrawing his gaze from the map, Gawain focused his mind. In his thoughts, a bird’s-eye view from surveillance satellites projected into his consciousness...

At Winterhold Castle, within the historic long hall, a document was being read aloud by ritual officers from two nations under the witness of all present.

The voices of the two ritual officers reverberated almost in perfect unison throughout the hall, empowered by magic, the sound was not only loud and clear but also carried a certain intimidating solemnity and gravitas—

"... We mutually agree that restoring peaceful relations is the first step in jointly addressing threats, and ceasing the current stage of border confrontation is the first step in ensuring peace... From the date of signing the agreement, military confrontations and all forms of mutual military infiltration actions shall cease... On the basis of restarting diplomacy, restore border trade and personnel movement, and gradually lift the martial law ban... Jointly monitor the great walls...

"... All of the above shall be witnessed by the Gods and the spirits of the ancestors, and recognized by the great and wise rulers of the two countries...

"... In Anzu/Typhon year 736, at Winterhold Castle on the common border...

"Long live peace."

The solemn final words fell, and suddenly, enthusiastic and sustained applause erupted in the long hall.

No matter whether anyone in this hall still harbored hostility, whether they were on guard against each other yesterday, whether there would still be estrangement in the future, at least at this moment, everyone who had experienced the lengthy negotiations was earnestly applauding, joyful and excited for this hard-won peace agreement.

The peace agreement witnessed by everyone was impressed with the marks of the rulers of the two countries. Subsequently, a Mage on site engraved the agreement onto two Adamantite plates, which were then given to both countries for joint safekeeping. The original agreement was to remain in this "Winterhold Castle," sealed in a Mithril-made safe, deep in a heavily guarded chamber beneath the fortress.

But these follow-up ceremonial matters were no longer the concern of Duke Silas Loland. He simply watched with great emotion as the King and Emperor Rosetta Augustus shook hands and conversed, subsequently exchanging their decorative swords in an atmosphere of harmony and enthusiasm, bringing this historic negotiation to an end.

What followed was a slightly relaxed banquet, a grand feast that lasted until late at night.

Though the negotiations had concluded, Duke Silas Loland did not relax for a moment. He was well aware of how many eyes were watching this peace negotiation, including those who did not wish for peace—so even after the agreement was established, as long as the King was still at Winterhold Castle, still on this borderline, he could not let down his guard.

Presumably, it was the same on the Typhon side—because throughout the banquet, Duke Loland noticed that Emperor Rosetta Augustus’s guards closely followed him, with even more personnel added.

But ultimately, everything ended safely.

With the nerves of all the guards highly strung, the two rulers spent their last night peacefully at Winterhold Castle. On the 52nd day of the Revival Month, year 736 of Anzu, King Francis II and Emperor Rosetta Augustus left Winterhold Castle.

Longwind Fortress welcomed its King with a grand ceremony—for this martial frontier fortress city, Francis II’s return from Winterhold Castle was like a general returning victorious from the front lines.

However, the old king, weary in body and mind from the negotiations, did not appear long in public. After briefly seeing some prominent figures in the fortress, Francis II returned to his resting chamber.

Prince Edmund was not with him; accompanying him into the room was the Legendary Mage from St. Soniel City, responsible for his close protection.

Throughout the days-long negotiation process, this Legendary Mage maintained a life-link with Francis II. Put simply, at this moment, to Francis II, this mage, who had served Anzu’s royal family for decades, was even more trustworthy than any of his children.

Stretching his stiff joints creakingly, the old king sat on the wide, soft couch. His somewhat clouded eyes looked at the old mage standing beside him—a lean, black-haired, composed man in a purple Starry Robe: "You’ve had a hard time these days, Master Duke."

The elder in the Starry Robe nodded slightly, his voice hoarse and deep: "It is my duty."

"End the life-link," Francis II said. "Although the illusion of strength it provides is pleasant, it has lasted too long and is affecting my sleep."

"As you wish." The old mage waved his hand, and a faint magical glow flickered across him and Francis II, instantly nullifying the life-link. As the sensation of weight returned to his body, the old king couldn’t help but exhale softly.

He had once been a powerful spellcaster himself, with talent comparable to the Legendary Mage beside him. Yet, as a king, he was destined never to reach the final step of the magical path—his body had irrevocably started to decline.

"Your Majesty, I’ll go outside to set up the protective magic symbols." Ending the life-link, the old mage slightly bent beside Francis II, saying.

"Alright, thank you for your efforts."

The old mage left the room, but just as Francis II was about to close his eyes for a nap, he heard the door being pushed open again.

"Master Duke, is there something else..." The old king opened his eyes, curiously looking towards the doorway, but he didn’t finish his sentence—standing there was not the Legendary Master in the Starry Robe, but a stranger dressed in an attendant’s attire.

While he was away from St. Soniel City, in theory, no unfamiliar face should appear before him alone.

Francis II’s right hand discreetly caressed the ring on his left hand. He looked into the eyes of the attendant: "Who are you?"

"Your Majesty," the attendant stepped forward, bowing slightly and politely, "Thank you for your efforts for peace. The Oblivion Association sends you its regards."

As soon as the words fell, the attendant’s head suddenly shattered into four parts, the ruptured blood and flesh forming a gaping mouth, lunging towards Francis II!