Chapter 1083: The Turning of an Era

Gawain knew that even though he and Rosetta had reached a consensus here, countless details still needed to be carefully negotiated—how to draft the specific regulations for rebuilding the continental sea routes, how to divide the profits, how to ensure the safety of the ships, and how to lay the groundwork for future international maritime laws. On paper, the agreement also had to guarantee “equal opportunities” for Typhon and other nations once their maritime technologies advanced. The follow-up negotiations could drag on for a long time, with multiple phased meetings awaiting diplomats from both sides—and possibly other parties who might join later—even after this 112th conference.

After all, this was a historic event that could reshape the continent’s balance of power. Even though Cecile would hold overwhelming influence over the new sea routes, Gawain had to show every participant enough respect and dignity—otherwise, it would contradict the political principles he had always championed.

No matter how the details were adjusted later, the overall direction was set in stone—this was the purpose of the closed-door meeting.

When Rosetta finally nodded, it was as if a heavy burden had been lifted, or a difficult challenge overcome. He exhaled softly, the tension in his cheeks easing.

Both Gawain and Amber expected at least a moment of disappointment or loss, but to their surprise, Rosetta simply breathed out like that. His eyes remained bright, his entire being radiating an unquenchable confidence. He had already found his next goal—one perhaps tougher than any challenge he had faced at home, yet it invigorated his fighting spirit.

“We’re all stepping into a better era, aren’t we?” he said, looking at Gawain, a glimmer shining through the depth of his gaze.

“Of course,” Gawain smiled faintly, picking up a wine glass from the tea table and raising it toward Rosetta. “We’re not here to drag our countries backward. How about a toast to our tomorrow?”

Rosetta lifted his glass as well. The clear clink echoed softly, marking the foundation and initial division of the economic landscape of Loren continent for decades to come.

Before setting down their glasses, Rosetta added, “Now that this is settled, what about the Cecile troops stationed in Winterwolf Castle…?”

Gawain chuckled. “The soldiers will be home before spring ends. Many families are waiting for reunions. My engineering corps will do their best—maybe we can even restore the trade routes around Winterwolf Castle before the Fire Moon arrives.”

“…Restarting trade will stimulate the local economy. Several towns south of Winterwolf might become bustling commercial hubs,” Rosetta said slowly. “In these warm days… shouldn’t Typhon’s soldiers also return home?”

“Of course. Also before spring ends.” Gawain’s reply was more straightforward—he had no intention of holding Andersa, who was recuperating in the Solin region, or the Typhon soldiers captured at the same time, as hostages. Nor did he plan to leverage these “chips” for any political gain. Although he had once considered mass-producing supernaturals for Typhon, breakthroughs in artificial neural cord technology, and the application of “wetware hosts” and “servo-craniums” in spellcasting assistance, had opened new avenues for Cecile to mass-produce supernaturals. He no longer needed any “hostages.”

In this situation, rather than exchanging hostages for now-irrelevant benefits, it was better to use this opportunity to strengthen his reputation within the “Alliance,” enhance the persuasiveness of the “community of shared destiny,” and gain positive international recognition. Besides, he was eager to see how much profit the “bustling commercial hubs” Rosetta promised would bring.

They then finalized the postwar arrangements—details still to be hashed out by diplomats and advisors, but the broad strokes had been set in this reception room. As time passed, the morning sun climbed higher, and the topic of war aftermath finally drew to a close.

Gawain exhaled and looked at Rosetta across the table. “There’s another matter I came to discuss today.”

“Another matter?” Rosetta’s face flickered with curiosity. “What is it about?”

Gawain casually picked up a Solin tree fruit, examining its smooth red surface in the sunlight as he spoke slowly. “Talrond—are you familiar with that name?”

“Talrond…” Rosetta’s expression turned thoughtful. He nodded slowly. “Not long ago, it was completely unfamiliar to me. But recently, I’ve heard quite a bit about it—half of it from your publicly issued newspapers. It’s the land of dragons, far to the north, beyond the Eternal Storm, right?”

“That’s right,” Gawain nodded. “Though the Eternal Storm has vanished, leaving only a vast ocean between us and the dragon realm.”

“…The land of dragons. I always thought it was just a legend. Everyone did. Though we all knew dragons were real, many stories described them as beings from other dimensions—like elementals or spirits,” Rosetta said with a hint of awe. “Who would have thought that beyond Loren continent lies a civilization built by true dragons?”

Gawain looked at Rosetta quietly, deliberately waiting two seconds before breaking the silence in a measured tone: “Yes, this civilization is real. Not only real—they will become members of the Alliance.”

The room fell silent instantly. Even someone as composed as Rosetta was momentarily stunned. Sitting beside him, Matilda couldn’t hide her shock, staring wide-eyed for a long moment until Gawain’s voice broke the quiet and they both snapped back to reality.

“You look surprised,” Gawain smiled.

“What did you just say?” Rosetta’s eyes widened, disbelief coloring his voice. “You invited dragons to this meeting? The real dragons?!”

“Yes,” Gawain nodded. “Though Cecile has publicly acknowledged the dragons’ existence in the media, their participation in the Alliance meeting remains confidential. It’s normal you didn’t know—I controlled that information carefully. In any case, the dragons will appear at the Alliance meeting and join us as a mortal nation. I believe this will greatly advance the conference.”

Rosetta had recovered from his shock and composed himself, pondering. “…Indeed, if dragons suddenly appeared and declared their voluntary membership, delegates who doubted or wavered would be deeply shaken. I can’t imagine anyone opposing them then—they might not even be able to think clearly. It’s a card no one expected.”

He looked up at Gawain again, a trace of puzzlement in his expression. “Who else knows about this?”

“The Silver Empress Belsethia, who is the witness and recorder, and the ambassador from the Northern Holy Dragon Duchy—no one else,” Gawain said. “The former is the host of the meeting and naturally knows all delegates. The latter has close ties with the dragons.”

“…Dragonborn. I still remember the shock I felt when frontline reports said Cecile’s air force had dragon squadrons. Even after we learned those ‘dragons’ were actually Dragonborn from the north, the shock didn’t lessen much,” Rosetta said, shaking his head with a complex expression. “I never thought that so soon, I’d be stunned by the real dragons… But why tell me this now?”

“Because Talrond needs help,” Gawain said solemnly. “And I plan to establish a long-term Food Committee through this, laying the foundation for mutual aid and watchfulness among Alliance members. For that, I need strong support—and Typhon is the most powerful voice in the southern and eastern continent.”

“…Talrond needs help?” Rosetta felt the topic veering into legendary territory, almost beyond his comprehension. “You mean those legendary dragons? The ones said to be able to destroy human city-states alone? They came to Loren seeking aid?”

“That’s a long story,” Gawain sighed softly. “First, please don’t think of them as desperate beings coming to humans for help. What’s happening in Talrond is far more tragic than anything we’ve experienced—and it all began a staggering 1,870,000 years ago…”

Rosetta fell silent, then stood and poured wine for Gawain and himself from the bottle on the table. Judging by Gawain’s expression, he knew this story was going to be very long.

…

Betty returned to the room where the golden dragon egg was kept. The egg, named Enya, stood quietly on its grooved pedestal. The midday sun streamed in brightly, bathing the walls and floor, and making the faint halo around the golden egg seem even more radiant. A peaceful, serene atmosphere filled the room, lifting the already good mood of the young maid.

“Good morning, Lady Enya!” Betty greeted cheerfully as she approached the golden egg, bowing politely. “Ah, are you reading the newspaper?”

She noticed a newspaper floating in midair before the egg, its finely printed pages shimmering slightly in the sunlight. An invisible force held it at a forty-five-degree angle, and as the pages turned, they made a pleasant rustling sound.

“Good morning, Betty,” came the gentle voice from within the egg. “Yes, I’m reading the newspaper—the one you hurriedly delivered this morning.”

“Oh, I was a bit busy earlier and didn’t get to chat with you properly…” Betty scratched her head sheepishly, then her eyes lit up as she looked at Enya and the floating paper. “So, do you find the newspaper interesting?”

“Very interesting—and very useful,” Enya replied with a smile. “I can learn about what’s happening in your country, understand how many of you view the world and think… And I’ve lost count of how many years it’s been since I last saw such a primitive medium. These simple printed pages carry a vibrant energy—I like that feeling.”

Betty thought for a moment and said, “You always say things that sound so deep… I don’t always understand.”

“Ah, really? Sorry, I’ve always been used to speaking this way,” Enya’s voice held an apologetic tone. “It’s quite difficult for me to express my feelings frankly and accurately. Considering the listener’s ability to understand makes it even harder. I’ll try to be more mindful.”

Betty quickly waved her hand. “No need to apologize! I’m just slow at understanding things, so I’m used to it! And as long as you’re happy now, I’m happy too!”

The voice inside the shell quieted for a moment, then with a hint of curiosity said, “Betty, you always seem so cheerful.”

“Yes,” Betty laughed brightly in the sunlight, “because good things keep happening.”

“Good things always happen… that’s wonderful,” Enya said, touched for a moment, but then seemed to shake it off. Her voice brightened. “Could you tell me more about this city? Your stories sound far more interesting than what’s written in the newspapers.”

“Of course!” Betty nodded enthusiastically. But before launching into her tale, she reached beside her and pulled out a soft white cloth. As she walked toward the giant egg, she added, “But first, I need to wipe the eggshell—how about I clean it while I talk?”

Enya’s tone turned a bit odd for a moment. “…Actually, I think it’s fine if you don’t, but if you find it fun, go ahead.”

Soon, the soft squeaking sound of the cloth rubbing against the eggshell filled the room. Accompanied by that gentle noise, Betty eagerly began to recount everything about Cecil City—from its humble beginnings to all the events that had shaped it, as she saw them.

…

At the same time, deep within the innermost chamber of the Defiant Fortress, in the shadowy realm’s “courtyard,” the great stag Amon lay quietly on the ground—a vast terrain made of shattered boulders, massive metal beams, and shards of crystal.

This colossal, sacred creature, glowing with a pure white radiance, had its eyes open. Those eyes, like crystal infused with white light, were fixed intently on an object placed not far in front of him—a large arcane network terminal. Its precision alloy base was embedded with high-quality projection crystals, faintly pulsing with a dim glow.

The device was not yet activated. Nearby stood a magical obelisk designed to amplify and relay signals, an additional arcane power matrix, and several other magical apparatuses with various functions.

Not far from Amon, a massive shadow loomed—a beautiful woman as tall as a clock tower, her lower body composed of ethereal magical mist. She crouched beside the stag, glancing first at the inactive terminal, then at the motionless giant deer. After several attempts to speak, she finally asked, “Need some help?”

“No,” the former god of nature replied immediately. “I can manage on my own.”

“You’ve been fiddling with it all this time—actually, to get it started, you just need to—”

“No, I can do it myself!”

(End of chapter)