Chapter 1065: Light and Shadow

The people of Cecile possessed a formidable warship—equipped with the most advanced rainbow light device humanity had ever created. Once charged, it could unleash a deadly beam from the distant sea, striking land targets with devastating precision. Rumor had it that the ship also carried powerful conventional weapons capable of equally lethal cross-boundary fire at even greater distances.

On the battlefield where gods were slain, it was precisely this warship that delivered the final blow to the war god.

After that war ended, the Cecile warship did not leave its patrol area. This unsettled many Typhon soldiers. The ship, named the Winter’s Chill, still operated in the eastern coastal waters. On clear days, sentries stationed on the mountains could even see the steel behemoth drifting on the sea, its towering wing panels gleaming brilliantly under the sun.

“Yes, Your Majesty, it’s still out there,” Ferdinand’s expression grew serious, tinged with concern. “We expected the Cecilians to at least return the ship to their home port for resupply before winter ended. But it seems the ship’s endurance at sea far exceeds our estimates… It remains active in the eastern waters, though it hasn’t approached the mainland.”

“An empire’s assets aren’t limited to land; the sea holds equal importance,” Rosetta said, locking eyes with Ferdinand. “Where are our ships?”

“The Courage and the newly launched Red Knight have reached the vicinity of that ship, but… all they can do is observe from a distance,” Ferdinand’s face darkened. “The Cecilian vessel is a true warship, much like their land-based mobile fortresses. The Winter’s Chill was designed from the outset to be fully armed. Our ships simply can’t match its firepower. Count Owen Dyson’s current role is limited to surveillance. And frankly, it’s impossible for us to build a warship capable of rivaling the Winter’s Chill in the short term.”

He paused, then added, “The Cecilians clearly understand this. They haven’t responded to our surveillance and remain anchored near the offshore boundary—that area isn’t technically within our territorial waters, but the Winter’s Chill’s weapons can still cover the mountainous eastern side of Winterhold.”

“So, it’s a form of deterrence,” Rosetta sighed. “Absolute deterrence… very much in the style of Gawain Cecile.”

Matilda sat quietly nearby, listening intently as Rosetta and Ferdinand spoke. When her father paused, she cautiously voiced her thoughts. “Are the Cecilians keeping the Winter’s Chill near our coastline merely to display their power and intimidate us?”

Rosetta glanced at her daughter, surprised. “You seem to have an idea?”

“I’m just worried… that the Cecilians are positioning the ship in preparation for the upcoming negotiations,” Matilda frowned. “After all, this ‘war’ was technically started by us. Even if there are hidden truths behind it, the Cecilians will demand an explanation from Typhon. No matter what terms they propose, I fear we’ll struggle to accept them.”

“So, they need to strengthen their ‘bargaining power,’” Rosetta nodded approvingly, then shook her head slightly. “Unfortunately, given Typhon’s current situation, maintaining stability is already at its limit. There’s very little we can do.”

“If we could anticipate the Cecilians’ negotiation intentions in advance, we might at least retain some initiative,” Matilda said quickly. “What we gain at the negotiating table depends on how much effort we put in beforehand.”

Listening to the emperor and princess converse, Grant Duke Ferdinand finally broke the silence after a moment’s thought. “Winterhold and its surrounding areas remain in Cecilian hands—they show no sign of withdrawing.”

“Are you saying the Cecilians intend to annex Winterhold and its environs outright?” Matilda looked at Ferdinand, then shook her head gently. “While that’s possible, I can’t help but feel that Gawain Cecile’s plans won’t be so crude and straightforward…”

The room fell silent. Rosetta absentmindedly rubbed a ruby ring on her left hand. After a long pause, she said thoughtfully, “In any case, there’s only a week left before the conference begins.”

…

Deep within the Obsidian Palace, a staircase led down to the palace’s underground chambers. At the bottom stood a heavy brass door, protected by layers of magical seals.

This was no royal treasury, nor a vault of the highest royal secrets. Yet it remained a forbidden zone. Only a select few elite mages from the Royal Mage Association and members of the Augustus family were permitted near the door. Even the guards stationed at the stairs and door were intricate, expensive magical automatons and mechanical devices—soulless magical machines, utterly loyal and incapable of leaking secrets.

Such stringent protection served only one purpose: to guard one of Typhon Empire’s greatest secrets—its centuries-old magical technology that far surpassed that of other nations—hidden deep behind that brass door.

Beyond the door lay a vast square hall, brightly lit. Complex, mysterious magical runes covered the walls and ceiling. Numerous humming, softly glowing magical devices lined the room’s perimeter. Countless conduits of magic-conducting metal and rune-etched chains extended from these devices, running along grooves in the floor and converging at the hall’s center. There, a control console made of alloy, inscribed with runes and embedded with intricate crystals, emitted a low, steady hum.

Windsor Mapple, head of the Royal Mage Association, busied herself at the console. Nearby, Diana—the palace’s “head maid”—lay motionless on the platform. The black-haired woman’s eyes were closed as if in deep sleep. Her usual black maid’s uniform had been replaced by a loose white smock, which was cut open at the abdomen. But beneath the opening was not human flesh; instead, exposed synthetic skin and alloy plates were visible.

Beneath the alloy cover, where a human’s abdomen would be, a complex array of precise mechanical components operated in perfect order. Tiny magical mechanisms flickered with runes, and a copper core above a synthetic spine vibrated faintly. Though it had been running for seven centuries, its surface still gleamed as if new.

Elsewhere under the smock, numerous tubes and fine chains extended from Diana’s body, connecting to corresponding ports along the console’s edge or directly to grooves and conduits in the floor.

Windsor carefully inspected the devices’ operation, making subtle adjustments as needed. Occasionally, she straightened to jot notes on a floating notebook or performed complex manipulations on nearby magical apparatuses. Her movements were fluid and practiced—clearly, this was not her first time performing such maintenance.

After some time, the association head finished her work. She bent down, meticulously reassembled the intricate mechanisms in Diana’s abdomen, closed the alloy cover and synthetic skin, and ensured the skin sealed and fused naturally. Only then did she nod to the “head maid” on the platform. “Maintenance is complete, Miss Diana.”

The black-haired maid, seemingly asleep moments before, suddenly opened her eyes. Her translucent irises rapidly refreshed lines of data. After a few faint hums and mechanical whirs from within, she sat up, pulling off the tubes connected to her body, and smiled faintly at Windsor. “Thank you for the maintenance, Miss Mapple—I feel much lighter now.”

“As long as it helps,” Windsor smiled back. “Though what I can do is limited. The core structures are beyond my understanding—and beyond the manufacturing capabilities of this era.”

“You’ve been a great help—after all, I can’t adjust my magical mechanisms or cognitive core while in hibernation,” Diana said, sitting on the cold platform and moving her limbs to test joint and synthetic muscle function. She nodded with satisfaction. “Good. The output on my left limbs has improved. That issue has troubled me for years.”

Windsor gazed at this “iron woman” from the ancient Gondor Empire. Though she had assisted with hardware maintenance before and was familiar with Gondorian technology, she couldn’t help but marvel at the incredible ancient craftsmanship embodied in Diana. She felt a wistful longing for the long-lost Gondor Empire. Only when Diana finished her self-check and stepped down from the platform did Windsor snap out of her reverie and casually ask, “By the way, Miss Diana, do you know you’ve been… ‘drawing’ again recently?”

“Recently?” Diana blinked, then understood. Her eyes dimmed slightly, and her brow furrowed. “I’ve been doodling again…”

“Yes, on the walls of your room and even on a passing mage apprentice’s clothing,” Windsor nodded. “The same strange dots and connecting lines as before… Looks like you don’t remember it again.”

“I really don’t,” Diana tapped her forehead—though her cognitive core wasn’t in her head, this was a programmed “personality behavior” from centuries ago, now a habit. “Sorry… Please apologize to that apprentice for me. My reckless behavior must have caused him quite a disturbance.”

“Disturbance? Not really. The apprentice seemed quite happy—he’d wanted your ‘doodles’ for a long time… Ah, young people,” Windsor shook her head with a strange expression, then looked Diana over again. “But seriously, you still don’t recall the meaning behind those doodles? Not even a little?”

“No memory,” Diana shook her head. “The related memories are completely blank. I don’t even remember the doodles themselves. If I hadn’t seen the evidence others brought, I wouldn’t know those patterns existed.”

“That’s a shame,” Windsor sighed. “We’ve examined your cognitive core and memory devices multiple times. On the surface, there’s no sign of damage or impact… We’ve tried various external stimuli to awaken your lost memories, but aside from a few experimental mishaps, nothing has worked.”

Diana said nothing further, standing quietly by the console. Her exquisitely crafted, flawless face betrayed only calm.

…

In Cecile City, deep within the newly renovated and expanded Cathedral of the Holy Light, Veronica, holding a platinum scepter, smiled as she saw off the last high-ranking cleric seeking guidance. The holy radiance surrounding her gradually dimmed to a faint glow, and the ethereal sacred chants that had filled the cathedral faded with the breeze.

A faint sound of chewing came from beside her. Veronica turned toward the noise and saw a small head emerging from the air. Emily’s spirit had taken shape within the halo of sacred light swirling around her, intently nibbling on those thin, tranquil rays.

Veronica smiled softly and reached out to stroke Emily’s hair—though spirits were normally intangible, this one felt almost solid beneath her fingers. The little girl formed from the sacred light looked up and beamed a bright, joyful smile before lowering her head to continue eating with focused delight.

At that moment, Light’s voice reached Veronica’s ears. “Sorry, this child’s been getting more mischievous lately.”

“Good day, High Shepherd,” Veronica said, looking up to greet Light, who had just entered the prayer hall. She nodded politely, her expression warm. “It’s alright. Emily hasn’t caused me any trouble—besides, she’s not eating much.”

“As long as she doesn’t devour the blessings I use for meditation,” Light said with a helpless sigh, watching Emily swim like a fish through the floating sacred light around them. “She can’t tell the difference between the various sacred light spells and their purposes. When she’s hungry, she just eats whatever light is nearby…”

“That actually supports our research theory,” Veronica said with a smile, engaging Light in discussion about Emily and the nature of sacred light. “All forms of sacred light are essentially different shapes and channels of the same kind of energy. It’s a technical concept, not a theological one. So to Emily, any form of sacred light is basically the same—as long as it’s within her capacity to digest, she’ll eat it…”

As they talked, Veronica’s gaze drifted beyond Light and Emily. In the lower corner of her vision, a blank space hovered, filled with constantly updating text and data:

“Second external sweep roll call complete.

Internal security systems—normal; internal energy systems—normal; internal production facilities—normal; internal controllable units—normal;

External security systems—normal; external energy systems—1% loss; external controllable units—partially offline;

Re-scanning external security forces and conducting roll call…

65 nodes offline; no faults or damage reports found.

Alert level raised…”

(End of chapter)