Chapter 1077: Half of Uncle Gawain

The garden fell silent once more. In the stillness, Gawain fixed his gaze on the Silver Empress, studying her intently. He tried to discern her true intentions—though he felt he had a rough idea, there was a nagging sense that he was missing something.

The Silver Empress, too, watched him quietly. Her platinum eyes were deep and calm, like still water. No one could say what she saw in Gawain at that moment, or what she hoped to see. After a long pause, she spoke softly: “From the perspective of the Silver Empress, I don’t need to confirm whether you truly are Uncle Gawain. I am simply dealing with the ruler of the newly risen human empire in the northern continent. What matters is knowing what kind of ally you are.”

Gawain met her gaze. “But everything you just said could be a façade.”

“Every ruler’s actions can be a façade,” she replied coolly. “In that regard, whether or not you are an ‘Outlander’ makes no difference. What matters is my judgment. If I’m wrong, then I alone must bear the consequences.”

“…Rest assured, your judgment is sound. I will prove more reliable than you expect,” Gawain said, then shifted gears. “Still, I have questions. You answered from the standpoint of the Silver Empress, but what about Belsethia’s feelings? Here I am, sitting before you, but inside I’m someone you don’t know. Honestly, if it were anyone else, that might be hard to accept.”

Belsethia pressed her lips together—a rare show of hesitation. Even for her, this was a difficult question. After a moment, she broke the silence. “I’m curious, then… how much of you is truly Gawain Cecil? How do you occupy this body, and how do you regard everything it holds?”

Gawain lifted the now-cold cup of tea. The liquid shimmered with flecks of golden red in the sunlight. Looking at Belsethia, he suddenly asked, “Do you still like sneaking an extra dessert after dinner?”

A flicker of something crossed her face—surprise, amusement, maybe nostalgia—before she answered lightly, “I still have that habit. But it’s no longer a secret. As the Silver Empress, I’ve made it a court tradition.”

“Ah, so you finally fulfilled your old ‘grand ambition,’” Gawain said, startled, then laughed with genuine joy. “You once told me that one of your key goals for ruling the empire was to legislate that dessert must always follow dinner—just like in human courts.”

“…How much do you remember?” she asked, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

“Almost everything Gawain Cecil knew,” he said, tapping his temple. “That’s what I wanted to say—you say I ‘occupy’ this body, but that’s not quite right. Strictly speaking, his memories and personality have merged into my consciousness. I possess nearly all of Gawain Cecil’s memories, as vivid as if I lived them myself. I know everything about you, even the feelings I had at the time. Sometimes I wonder how much those memories and emotions have shaped me. Am I still myself, or a new being born from fusion?”

He held her gaze steadily.

“Perhaps, in a way, Gawain Cecil has truly been resurrected—his entire memory and personality have returned to this world. Only now, they are part of a larger consciousness. And I am that larger consciousness.”

“That sounds like a mathematical concept—sets and subsets,” Belsethia mused thoughtfully, her expression unreadable. Then she smirked faintly. “Are you saying this to comfort me? Or to earn my trust?”

“That’s for you to decide,” Gawain said honestly. “I’m being frank, but as you said, every ruler’s actions can be a façade—everyone’s, really. How you judge that is up to you.”

Belsethia studied his eyes carefully, then abruptly shifted the topic. “You said you have not only all of Gawain Cecil’s memories but also the feelings from back then. So, in your memory, what did ‘you’ feel about me at the time?”

“Cute and lively,” Gawain answered candidly after a moment’s thought. “And full of wild, imaginative ideas.”

“Is that so?” Belsethia’s smile deepened. “If that’s your answer, I might have to reconsider just how honest you really are…”

Gawain sighed and began counting on his fingers. “Alright, the main thoughts were: When will this little troublemaker go home? When will she be done playing? Where are her parents? Has she eaten enough? Has she run herself tired? Why isn’t she asleep yet? Why isn’t she bothering Selina or the Augustus family? Where has she disappeared to now? Suddenly so quiet—probably up to no good!”

He sighed again, looking at Belsethia’s slightly dazed expression, and shrugged. “You asked me to say this. If Charlie or Roland were here, they’d probably be even harsher.”

“I thought about it, but I never expected…” Belsethia blinked, then laughed—a laugh different from her usual smile, one that spread warmly across her delicate features like the clear afternoon sky. “I honestly can’t remember the last time I heard such an assessment.”

“My biggest worry back then wasn’t your sudden mischief, but your sudden silence. Every time you went quiet, it meant you were plotting something that could throw a hundred people into chaos. I even wondered if the Elven Court made a mistake choosing their heir. But surprisingly, you behaved impeccably at formal events like the Covenant Ceremony—some might say you were outstanding,” Gawain recalled. “Maybe you really did show the makings of a worthy Silver Empress. Seeing you now, I’m honestly impressed.”

“Being Silver Empress and High Priestess is a tedious job, especially for the me back then,” Belsethia said, her expression distant as she absentmindedly traced the gilded rim of her teacup. “I had to be proper in court, so it was only after I encountered the Pioneer Camp that I could truly relax. You all gave me such a fresh impression—I’d never seen leaders so peaceful, casual, even… fun. Even Uncle Snow, who always wore a stern face, would use ice sculptures to ‘lighten the mood.’”

“That’s normal. The original Pioneer leaders weren’t strict, noble-born ‘proper aristocrats.’ The real aristocracy died out in the Great Explosion of the Imperial Capital,” Gawain explained. “As for Snow… he was never a serious, rigid man. He just had a poker face.”

Belsethia suddenly fell silent, fixing her gaze on Gawain’s eyes. The intensity made him uncomfortable. “What is it?”

“When you speak in Uncle Gawain’s tone, it feels very natural. Is that a habit you’ve developed? Or is it part of the… ‘influence’ you mentioned earlier?”

“That’s hard to say,” Gawain admitted. “It’s definitely become a habit, but I don’t know how much of that comes from inheriting those memories and personality traits.”

Belsethia was quiet for a few seconds, as if pondering deeply. Then she said suddenly, “I’m no longer a child.”

Gawain tried to grasp the meaning behind her unexpected words. Hesitating, he asked, “So you’re saying you won’t be fooled by what I just said?”

“No,” she shook her head, lifting her finger from the teacup, letting the liquid ripple gently. “What I mean is—children get upset when gifts don’t match their expectations. They get tangled up in things not going their way. They sulk over details and irreversible realities. But I’m not a child.”

She looked up at him and extended a hand. “You’re not Uncle Gawain, but you’re at least ‘half of Uncle Gawain.’ In any case, welcome back to this world. We still need you here.”

Gawain was momentarily stunned. Honestly, he still struggled to keep up with the Silver Empress’s thoughts. After seven centuries ruling the Elven Empire, she was perhaps the most inscrutable mortal he’d met since awakening in this world—far more complex than any god he’d encountered. Still, he reached out and gently took her hand.

Belsethia sat back down, her gaze falling on the teacup between them. “The tea’s cold. Would you like a fresh, hot cup? The red tea from the Gaoling Kingdom is best served hot.”

“Of course, thank you.”

Belsethia traced a rune lightly in the air. Moments later, two high-ranking elven attendants appeared silently in the garden. They replaced the cold tea with steaming cups. Belsethia pointed to one of them. “Uncle Gawain, do you remember her?”

Gawain frowned, studying the elf. Slowly, vague memories surfaced. “…The little girl who used to get into trouble with you all the time? I think her name was Ilian…”

“That’s her—Ilian. Well, it seems we really did cause you a lot of trouble back then,” Belsethia said with a hint of helplessness. “Seven centuries have passed. It’s time to rebuild our impressions of each other. Ilian was very happy to hear you were resurrected. She’s been looking forward to meeting you.”

“I’m glad to see you again,” the attendant smiled, tinged with embarrassment. “Sorry about back then…”

“It’s alright. I’m glad to see you too,” Gawain interrupted. “It’s good to see familiar faces. Looking back, those old days are just amusing memories.”

The attendant smiled again. Gawain lifted his cup—finally able to savor the fine red tea from Gaoling in peace.

The sun slowly sank toward the western ridge of the town, the light softening to a gentle rose hue. As the clouds’ edges glowed with sunset, Gawain knew it was time to leave.

He and Belsethia had talked at length about the past. For the latter half of their afternoon tea, they avoided discussing gods, churches, or grand plans for the continent’s future. Only as Gawain rose to head toward the garden’s exit did Belsethia speak again.

“Uncle Gawain, how confident are you that enough nations will join the ‘Theocratic Council’ you envision?”

Gawain paused, glancing back slightly. “I’m not confident. I just have no choice.”

“Then you can be a little more confident now,” the Silver Empress said from behind him. “As I said earlier, the Silver Empire will support you—including in ‘this matter.’”

“Aren’t you worried this will weaken the Elf King’s court’s control over the religious authority?” Although Gawain had already guessed the outcome after hearing about the Druids’ secret cult, he couldn’t help but ask.

“My authority comes from the empire’s politics, economy, and military—not from the ceremonial title of ‘High Priestess.’ The White Star’s fall was three thousand years ago,” the Silver Empress replied.

The elves had long lacked a full understanding of the threats they faced. Now that Gawain was offering a systematic plan, she clearly wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip away.

Gawain himself had anticipated this, so he simply nodded gently. “In that case, I’m relieved.”

…

The sun hung low, casting a muted orange glow over the No. 112 Elf outpost. Gawain stood on the avenue outside the Oakwood Hall, and Amber’s figure gradually materialized beside him.

“Hey, hey, do you think she noticed me?” Amber whispered anxiously as soon as she landed. “I swear, there were several times she looked right at me…”

Gawain glanced at the nervous intelligence chief. “You still don’t trust your own shadow abilities?”

“…Alright, then I think she didn’t notice,” Amber said after a moment’s thought, shaking her head. “I’ve tried everything. Aside from legends like you, only a handful of high-level supernaturals with special powers can detect me when I’m already at the shadow threshold. That Silver Empress? She’s definitely not a legend—at best, high-level.”

“You sound like you think ‘high-level’ isn’t a big deal,” Gawain couldn’t help but say. “For a leader with limited energy, having high-level power is already terrifying. Do you think every king or emperor in this world is a legend?”

“…That’s true,” Amber admitted after thinking it over, nodding reluctantly. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, her eyes lit up. “Oh, right! You’re a legend among all these national leaders. When you hold meetings, you don’t even need five hundred White Knights posted outside the windows—you just clutch an eggplant in your arms and send them all flying…”

Gawain: “??”

(End of chapter)