Chapter 1030: The Voyager
Gondor’s Iron Man technology—Gawain actually didn’t know much about it. Although he inherited the memories of Gawain Cecil, even the original Gawain Cecil had been nothing more than a lowly knight apprentice from the borderlands of Gondor. His limited education came from a few rural tutors, and such schooling obviously didn’t cover much about “Iron Man technology.”
From Gawain’s own understanding, this technology was essentially advanced artificial intelligence combined with bionic robotics—cutting-edge science whether on Earth or in this world.
But one thing was certain in his limited knowledge: from the moment an Iron Man stepped off the production line, it belonged to the “Iron Man Legion.” Whether assigned to inland legions or border outposts, Iron Men could never break free from this Legion. The logic was hardcoded deep within their cognitive cores, and there was no way for them to alter it on their own.
As a former member of the Gondor royal family, Veronica/Ophelia clearly knew this as well.
So when she saw someone claiming to have broken free from the Iron Man Legion—a so-called “Iron Soldier”—even she couldn’t help but be surprised. “You’ve left the Iron Man Legion? How did you manage that?”
Diana shook her head. “I don’t remember. My memory module malfunctioned once, and after repairs, much was lost. All I know is that I have indeed left the Legion. My cognitive core holds a clear recognition of this.”
Veronica’s expression grew serious as she carefully studied this Iron Soldier who had somehow been active in the human world for centuries. Her tone remained gentle as always. “So now you serve the royal family of Typhon?”
“Yes,” Diana nodded slightly. “They took me in and repaired me. I swore loyalty to their house.”
“Gratitude… normal Iron Men don’t seem capable of such logical judgments, but that’s not important,” Veronica said softly, shaking her head. “May I ask you a few more questions?”
Diana glanced at Veronica, then after a moment’s thought, nodded. “As long as it doesn’t violate my oath to the Augustus family or contradict my cognitive logic.”
“Just some matters long disconnected from this era…” Veronica said kindly. “Do you remember where you originally were, and what your duties were?”
Diana recalled briefly and nodded. “I was once a guard at the Viplandon Observatory, responsible for the safety of Sir Scott Prandin and Mr. Alphonse Hall.”
“Do you remember the onset of the Magic Tide? Were you still at the observatory then?”
“…That memory is partially damaged, but I can roughly reconstruct it,” Diana hesitated slightly, then nodded. “I confirm I worked at the observatory until the very last moment before the Magic Tide struck, but the exact circumstances are lost to me.”
Veronica thought for a moment, then asked, “And after that? What else do you remember?”
“Afterwards, there are large gaps in my memory. When my consciousness came back online, I was already in a kingdom rebuilt by Gondor’s remnants, then called the Kingdom of Typhon,” Diana answered. “Their court scholars and mages recovered me. According to them, I had fallen near the Grant Wall, my body severely damaged. They brought me to Orlandale as a research specimen and took nearly thirty years to awaken me again… that was in Typhon Year 47.”
“Thirty years to repair you?” Gawain, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke up. “And that was already Typhon Year 47… So you must have wandered for over a decade after the Magic Tide before being found near the Grant Wall?”
“By the timeline, yes,” Diana said calmly. “But I can’t confirm whether I wandered inside the wasteland or operated just outside the wall. That part of my memory is completely missing.”
“…During the Magic Tide, almost all unprotected Iron Soldiers were damaged by the shockwave, so you were likely outside the wall. But nothing is absolute. Your cognitive core is somewhat unusual, which might explain how you miraculously survived the impact,” Veronica mused. “In any case, you’ve lost all memory from the Magic Tide until you entered the human kingdom… absolutely nothing?”
Diana’s expression shifted subtly, showing a rare hint of thought and distress—so slight yet so human-like it was astonishing. Then she shook her head. “I only recall a very brief, vague impression—Sir Scott Prandin ordered me to move northeast. Beyond that, nothing.”
The name of this Sir had come up twice now. Amber couldn’t help but ask, “Who is this Sir Scott Prandin?”
The answer came not from Diana, but from Veronica, who held a platinum scepter nearby. This ancient rebel clearly knew more about Gondor’s upper echelons than Gawain. “He was the director of the Viplandon Observatory at the time.”
“Then it’s obvious. When the Magic Tide struck, the observatory’s director ordered his guards to retreat toward safety. This lady followed orders but probably couldn’t outrun the Magic Tide. She also didn’t travel with the fleeing refugees, so she was likely caught—damaged and wandering between the wasteland and the human kingdom for over a decade until the Typhon people found her. Then they spent thirty years repairing her. After awakening, she could move but had lost most of her memory… That’s basically the sequence,” Amber analyzed, her pointed ears twitching as she spoke. Then she scratched her head and looked at Gawain. “By the way, where exactly is the Viplandon Observatory?”
“Near Gondor’s northern border, close to the Mana Scars,” Gawain said, flipping through mental maps as he looked at Diana. “If you set out from there heading northeast, and your direction wasn’t too far off, you’d reach the eastern end of the Dark Mountains. Back then, the Black Forest hadn’t spread that far, so you could cross the mountains and enter the northern Shadow Marshes… which is indeed within Typhon territory. A perilous journey—you have my congratulations for making it through safely.”
Diana bowed her head slightly to Gawain. “Thank you for your praise.”
“That’s hardly praise,” Gawain waved his hand, then looked at Diana with curiosity. “Have you told Rosetta Augustus about all this?”
“Forgive me, but I cannot disclose that,” the black-haired maid said calmly but firmly.
“…It seems that whenever it concerns your master, you won’t casually share with strangers,” Gawain wasn’t surprised. “But I’m sure he knows, probably far more than we do. Over centuries, the Augustus family must have uncovered everything they could.”
Diana maintained her indifferent expression—neither confirming nor denying, not even tacitly agreeing. Only now did she reveal a trait unlike a human: her face, covered in bionic skin over steel and polymers, betrayed no hint of emotion or information.
Veronica and Gawain asked a few more questions. Within the bounds of her principles, Diana answered some. Out of respect for Veronica, she was fairly cooperative, but ultimately revealed no valuable secrets.
When the questioning ended, Diana’s gaze swept over Gawain, Veronica, and Amber with patient calm. “May I leave now? Or do you intend to dismantle me for more information?”
“Ah, of course not,” Gawain said, startled, quickly waving his hands. He hesitated briefly, then after weighing the options, nodded. “You may go, Miss Diana.”
“Then thank you for your care during this time.” The black-haired maid bowed slightly, lifting her skirt in a formal curtsy. She then gave Veronica a respectful nod before stepping back and gradually fading from sight.
A few seconds after her presence and aura vanished, Amber suddenly looked at Gawain. “You’re really just letting her go? If you regret it, I can still stop her—I can track the traces she left near the Shadow Realm’s edge.”
To be honest, Gawain felt a twinge of hesitation. Such a unique Iron Man, possibly harboring countless secrets, slipping away right under his nose—it was hard not to be curious. But after some inner debate, he shook his head. “We can’t detain an envoy from Typhon without cause—especially one so unusual.”
Diana did hold many secrets, but upon reflection, none seemed to threaten the core interests of either Typhon or Cecil. For now, those secrets only satisfied personal curiosity. It wouldn’t be worth risking the fragile, dangerous balance between the two nations just to pry them out.
There would be time enough.
He felt this wouldn’t be the last time he dealt with that “Gondor machine maiden.”
“Actually, I’m a bit worried Typhon might learn some… sensitive information from her,” Amber admitted, her usually carefree demeanor replaced by sharp insight. “Like Veronica revealing her identity just now—letting her go so easily, isn’t that a bit… reckless?”
“How come I didn’t know you were so sharp?” Gawain looked at Amber in surprise, then shook his head with a smile before she could jump up. “Being sharp is good. Veronica’s identity is indeed special. But… what threat do you think this information poses to Cecil if it reaches Rosetta’s ears?”
Amber paused, pinching her chin as she mulled it over. “Seems like no direct threat… Rosetta can’t take any concrete action based on this. But it’s still important information. Someone like Rosetta will seize and exploit any valuable intel.”
“Exactly. He’ll probably ponder it carefully,” Gawain said slowly. “But it’s fine. In a way, I don’t mind him knowing more about the rebels, including some of our ‘little secrets’… If it keeps him up a few nights thinking about them, all the better.”
Amber blinked, stared at Gawain for a long moment, then muttered, “You’re probably scheming again…”
Gawain pretended not to hear her muttering. He noticed Veronica had been somewhat distracted since earlier—a rare occurrence for her—and couldn’t help but ask, “What’s wrong? Still thinking about Diana?”
“Nothing,” Veronica shook her head. “I am thinking about her, but it’s nothing important.”
With that, she slowly lifted her head to glance into the distance, then withdrew her gaze and said to Gawain, “Please allow me to take my leave—I’ve been ‘watching’ for too long and am feeling quite weary.”
“Of course,” Gawain replied immediately. “You’ve worked hard. Go get some rest.”
Watching the “Saint Princess” leave the courtyard, Gawain let out a soft breath. His mind lingered on a detail from moments ago:
When Veronica was gazing out, it didn’t seem like she was looking toward Winterburg—the place where Diana was supposed to return—but rather in the direction of the Gondor Wastelands.
This gave him pause, but he quickly shook his head, setting the thought aside for now. There were other matters demanding his attention.
Gawain raised his right hand, his eyes settling on a silver-white ring on his finger.
He recalled his recent journey to Talrond and the last conversation with the dragon goddess Enya—an exchange cut short by the sudden upheaval on the continent of Loren, by the war god’s transformation.
Now, the divine calamity that had befallen mortals was finally over. The battles along the Winterburg front had settled into silence. Perhaps it was time to reach out to the dragons—they might also be watching how this godly disaster unfolded.
Gawain curled his fingers, gently stroking the surface of the mithril ring.
A faint magical current pulsed through the delicate, intricate device, linking him to distant Talrond. Yet…
There was no response.
…
Far to the north of the Loren continent, atop the towering peaks of the Holy Dragon Principality’s mountains.
A biting cold wind howled through the passes. Snow swept off the Dragon Leap Cliff swirled in the gusts, drifting past the massive stone structures lining the mountainside, then brushed against the thick, ancient walls of Dragon’s Rest Fortress—only to be held back by roaring braziers and unseen wards of draconic magic.
Grant Duke Balogur Knarl stood on a circular platform at the fortress’s highest point. He had dispelled the protective barrier around the platform, letting the fierce wind whip through his gray hair and heavy cloak.
His gaze pierced through the snowstorm, fixed on the northern sea.
Omega’s voice howled in his mind, but as a unique “exile,” he still retained his flesh-and-blood brain and had yet to respond to Omega’s call.
But even so, it was time for him to “go home.”
(End of chapter)