Chapter 1074: Secrets

In the garden of the Oakwood Hall, unknown flowers quietly bloomed. Potent natural magic sustained the vibrant life here, allowing plants that normally only thrived in the southern regions to flourish on this northern land. A gentle wind barrier enveloped the entire courtyard, muffling the distant clamor from the town beyond until only faint sounds remained—far from noisy, the atmosphere felt even more serene.

High King Gawain sat at a round table, a delicate gilded cup releasing the fresh aroma of tea. On a silver platter lay an assortment of elven pastries—rare delicacies in the human world—and tropical fruits, arranged artfully and pleasing to the eye.

Opposite him sat Belsethia, the Silver Queen, ruler of the Elven Empire. A faint smile graced her face as she studied Gawain carefully for a long moment before breaking the silence. “When news of your… resurrection first reached us, it caused quite a stir throughout the Elven Court. Many elves who once knew you are still alive, and they were shocked by the news—myself included. Unfortunately, the Silver Empire was too distant from Ansu at the time, and the northern situation was too chaotic. We only had limited information until the magic network connected with the Sentinel Towers, opening up communication channels. Only then did the northern situation become clearer.”

“A lot has happened,” Gawain recalled everything he had witnessed since his awakening, sighing sincerely. “You can’t imagine the scenes I saw when I first woke up… The kingdoms were unrecognizable, order was in shambles, and I had to fight again the very enemies I defeated seven centuries ago. The worst part is that after seven hundred years, humanity has made no progress reclaiming the wastelands—in fact, we’ve regressed.”

Speaking as Gawain Cecil, his words carried genuine weight, shaped by shared memories and firsthand experience. Even the Silver Queen couldn’t help but sigh. “I understand… For over seven centuries, I have witnessed this world’s transformation. The four pioneer legions that once surged out of the Gondor Wastelands have become strangers—some for better, some for worse—but all have gradually forgotten the threat of the wastelands. The Highland Kingdom bordering the Silver Empire fared better, thanks to many half-elves who preserved their history. Then there’s Typhon, which, aside from a few weak rulers, has generally maintained wise and strong leadership. But Ansu and Ogure…”

Belsethia shook her head with a sigh. “If Ansu hadn’t suffered that civil war, it wouldn’t have declined so much. As for Ogure—it’s a tribal kingdom. The Gondor descendants only hold part of the power there. Most of the native tribes have little memory of that disaster, and with the natural barrier of towering mountains, these peoples living in comfort are slow to react to crises beyond their borders.”

Gawain’s gaze lingered on Belsethia for a moment longer. At that instant, he felt a profound disconnect between the “Silver Maiden Queen” from Gawain Cecil’s memories and the woman before him.

It was a strange feeling, but not unfamiliar. Since rising from the grave, he had encountered several “old acquaintances” etched in his memories—Selina, Beltira, King Megor III, and now Belsethia. All had changed utterly over seven centuries; none resembled their former selves. Yet among them, Belsethia’s transformation seemed the most profound.

His thoughts drifted further: among all these old friends, only Solderin had changed the least. Though the high ranger had weathered many storms, compared to the others, he had only matured. Gawain pondered why and slowly understood—

Of all those who had endured seven centuries, Solderin was the only one whose purpose never wavered. It seems that bald men really do fixate on one thing.

The sudden, wandering thought made Gawain smile quietly. Belsethia caught the smile instantly, her curiosity piqued. “Uncle Gawain, what are you laughing at?”

“Nothing, just a funny thought,” Gawain shook his head and shifted the topic. “Also, some reflections—after so many years, when I woke up, not only had many familiar faces passed away, but those still alive had changed so much they were almost unrecognizable.”

“Does that include me?”

“You’ve changed the most.”

“You, however, have hardly changed—almost exactly as I remember you,” Belsethia said, looking intently into Gawain’s eyes. Her calm gaze made him slightly uneasy, but she quickly averted her eyes and smoothly changed the subject. “Uncle Gawain, enough reminiscing. Let’s talk about something serious. What do you think of this meeting?”

“What do I think?” Gawain paused, momentarily unsure why she asked so abruptly. Then he caught on. “I’m the main initiator and driving force behind this meeting. So if you want my opinion, I believe this gathering is necessary and important. As I said in my earlier letters, our world is not safe. Greater crises and challenges await us all. Whether to face these challenges or to secure our own peace and development, unity is essential.”

“I know all that,” Belsethia replied calmly. “I’m just curious… Is your purpose in forming this alliance truly only about the world’s safety and the future of mortal civilization?”

Her tone remained respectful, but as Silver Queen, an almost instinctive authority underpinned every word, subtly pressing on Gawain. Fortunately, such pressure was nothing new to him.

He had faced dragon gods and witnessed the turning of ages; few things in this world could intimidate him with mere presence.

“From a broad perspective, my sole goal is indeed the world’s safety and the future of mortal civilization,” Gawain answered honestly, meeting her gaze. “But if you want to speak of personal motives… yes, I have them. I want to realize this vision according to my own ideas. There are many great people in this world, each with their own understanding of the future. But I want change—changes that may not align with everyone’s expectations, but that I believe are right. That is my greatest personal ambition.”

“Strictly speaking, that’s ambition… but ‘personal motive’ isn’t wrong either,” Belsethia smiled. “I think I understand your thoughts now. It seems a face-to-face conversation was indeed necessary. You wouldn’t have been so frank in letters. Well, since I asked a question, it’s your turn—consider it an exchange.”

“You never mentioned this exchange before,” Gawain said, but nodded. “Of course, since I get to ask, I won’t waste the chance. I do have something to ask.”

“Go ahead—though try not to pry too much into private matters,” Belsethia said, winking. “After all, I’ve grown up now.”

Nearby, Sonia, standing on standby, nearly choked on her breath. Who would believe those words came from the Silver Queen?

The high-level messenger felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead, suddenly wondering if she’d make it back safely to the Silver Empire after witnessing this scene. Fortunately, she knew Belsethia and Gawain well enough to realize this wasn’t too strange. Had a more pessimistic, uninformed person been here, they might already be planning their escape.

Gawain, however, seemed oblivious to the messenger’s reaction and didn’t react to Belsethia’s joke. He looked seriously at the queen and asked the question he had prepared long ago: “I want to understand the current state of the Silver Empire’s pantheon—especially regarding the nature gods.”

Belsethia appeared surprised, pausing before replying, “Just that?”

“Is there a problem?” Gawain asked earnestly. “This is what concerns me most right now.”

“…Very well, that does fit your character,” Belsethia sighed, her expression turning serious. “But before I answer, I want to confirm something—you mentioned in your previous letters that gods fall into chaos over time, eventually becoming terrifying threats mortals must face. The war god who lost control during the Typhon-Cecil war was the first example… Is all this true?”

“Absolutely,” Gawain said solemnly. “I know many will doubt it, but we have solid evidence. Thousands of soldiers at the Winter Fortress witnessed it firsthand. Typhon’s records are detailed, and we even recovered samples from the war god’s remains.”

“That’s truly shocking. I doubt anyone would suddenly believe that the gods who have protected this world could become its destroyers—even the unbelievers,” Belsethia shook her head. “But whether rationally or emotionally, I have no choice but to believe you… though that’s just my personal stance.”

“I know it’s hard to accept, but it’s the way the world works,” Gawain said, locking eyes with her. “If it’s difficult to accept, perhaps this will help those who still revere the gods: this madness and loss of control isn’t the gods’ true nature. As I said, it’s the world’s operating rules at work, and the gods themselves are victims of these rules.”

“You seem to have much knowledge to share on this,” Belsethia mused. Gawain had expected a stronger reaction, but the Silver Queen remained calm and composed, as if even confronting divine secrets couldn’t shake her reason. “I’ll want to learn more from you later. For now… since you’re interested in the Silver Empire’s faith, I’ll give you a brief overview. By position, the Silver Queen also serves as the High Priestess of the Druidic Order. This is something you should definitely ask me about.”

“As many know, the Silver Empire’s former state religion was the Druidic faith, which worshipped the god of nature—the great stag, Amohn. For thousands of years, this belief was the very core of the Silver Elves’ spirituality, even underpinning the workings of their empire to some extent. But everything changed three thousand years ago, after the fall of the White Star. The connection to the nature god vanished, natural magic ceased, and the Druidic faith splintered into a dozen or so sects during a long, chaotic transformation. Except for the later corrupted Holy Spirit sect, most of these groups gradually became academic orders devoted to studying magic and the mysteries of nature. They kept the name ‘sects,’ but their religious essence faded. I, as the High Priestess, am one of the few remaining figures who still maintain some link to the old faith in the nature god.”

“I know a bit about that,” Gawain nodded. “What I’m curious about is this: for three thousand years after the White Star’s fall, the elves have tried to rebuild their faith in the nature god through other symbols. Some Druidic groups even worship powerful animal spirits or forest spirits as gods. Hasn’t any of these groups succeeded in reestablishing contact with a deity, or in reviving the miracles of divine magic?”

Bersethia regarded Gawain silently for a moment, as if weighing her words carefully. The atmosphere grew heavy with tension until she suddenly lifted her gaze and looked toward Sonia, who was standing nearby. “High Messenger, please step aside.”

Sonia’s face flickered with surprise, but she quickly recovered, bowing her head and slipping quietly out of the garden. As she left, the two senior handmaidens who had been standing behind Bersethia vanished just as silently, their presence fading swiftly.

Gawain’s mind raced—he sensed something significant was unfolding. Bersethia didn’t keep him waiting long. Once they were alone in the garden, the Silver Queen smiled faintly.

“Now that it’s just the two of us—let’s return to your question.

“For three thousand years, countless secret Druidic cults have risen and fallen. Many have tried every conceivable method to pray anew to nature, hoping to awaken the god they revere. You asked if any of these groups ever truly succeeded in contacting a deity and reviving the miracles of old? Yes. They did.

“Some cults did manage to communicate with gods and reproduce miracles akin to the ancient natural magic. Not just one—there were several.”

Gawain instinctively drew a sharp breath—this was news to him! No one had ever known this!

What had been a casual question had suddenly yielded a startling and shocking revelation.

“And then?” he pressed eagerly. “What happened to those cults afterward?”

“They were branded heretics and wiped out,” Bersethia said, her tone calm and matter-of-fact.

(End of chapter)