Chapter 1094: Hidden Dangers

Positive and constructive developments.

Put simply, it meant: benefits too good to refuse.

Perhaps the earlier reports of apocalyptic crises and looming wars had weighed heavily on everyone’s minds. Or maybe they were simply tired of the grim, threatening topics. When Gawain finally decided to put away the big stick and offer something sweet instead, the delegates in the hall unexpectedly broke into spontaneous applause. As heartfelt clapping filled the room, the elven clerks distributing documents began handing out carefully prepared files to each representative.

These were the documents Gawain had been preparing for some time—he had specifically instructed the elves to wait until this moment to present them.

“First, let’s look at the draft of the ‘Charter of the Mortal Civilizations Community Alliance’—if you find the full name too cumbersome, you may simply call it the ‘Community Charter,’” Gawain began after confirming everyone had received and started reading the papers. “This is only a draft, intended to establish the framework for the alliance’s order. It covers the basic operational methods, the responsibilities and obligations of member states, and the procedures for executing affairs. The core articles are temporarily locked from amendment, but we still have the opportunity to discuss the details or modify the content in response to future changes in circumstances.”

Under a stone pillar somewhere in the hall, a flag bearing a black hammer emblem fluttered gently. Paladin Brimstone sat in his assigned seat, opening the Charter before him. The first things that caught his eye were the principles Gawain had just mentioned: member states watch over and assist one another; every nation has the responsibility and duty to safeguard the alliance’s interests; transparency and honesty; political equality among nations; mutual respect and recognition of each other’s cultures, traditions, and legitimate demands…

“This reads like a ‘Sage’s Manifesto,’” Baramo Blacksteel muttered quietly from beside him. “Hard to imagine one of the most powerful empires on the Loren Continent would voluntarily put something like this forward… From what I know, those arrogant human nations always maintain a certain lofty attitude, even when they show fairness and justice in foreign relations—it’s tied to their ‘dignity.’”

“Yes, they like to treat ‘fairness’ as a kind of external gift… not as this document suggests,” Brimstone replied softly. “But on the other hand, if two human empires and the elven empire all recognize and are willing to abide by this… that’s actually a good thing. At least they’re willing to make this gesture.”

“True, if the content here is genuinely followed,” Baramo muttered, flicking a finger over the finely printed pages. “Nice packaging… Now the human emperor better bring something more substantial.”

Around the two dwarf ambassadors and throughout the hall, delegates carefully read the Charter’s articles, exchanging thoughts. Gawain gave everyone ample time. Only when more and more representatives put down their drafts did he break the silence: “Let’s pause the discussion on the Charter for now. Next, I want you all to focus on our economic framework—I have brought the ‘Basic World Trade Act’ and the ‘Maritime Trade Promotion Act’ specifically for the nations along the continental sea routes…”

Brimstone couldn’t help but murmur, “Ah—now we’re getting to the real stuff.”

As his words fell, Gawain’s voice continued: “Along with these acts, you will receive reliable data to help you understand the significance of joining international trade. We can see from the numbers how the total import-export volume between Talrond and Cecil has grown twenty-twofold in the past two years, and how commerce between Cecil and the Holy Dragon Principality has increased port city tax revenues by 400%…”

Brimstone’s expression suddenly froze, as solid as the stones of his homeland. He felt a sharp poke in his arm. Baramo’s voice came from beside him: “Did we discuss this before, mate?”

“…Right now, I just want to know exactly how much those gray elves have made!”

…

The first session lasted the entire day. Aside from brief breaks for meals, the delegates devoted all their energy to listening, thinking, speaking, and summarizing. As the sun set, a melodious bell rang from deep within Outpost 112, and the Oathstone Circle echoed with a series of pleasant chimes. The day’s intense mental exertion finally came to a temporary close.

Back at the town’s resting quarters, Gawain exhaled deeply, letting his overworked mind cool down. He glanced out the window at the evening glow spreading across the sky and the giant eagle knights patrolling the airspace, murmuring to himself, “The opening went fairly smoothly.”

“I noticed a lot of people looked very different coming in versus leaving,” Amber’s figure appeared beside him. The half-elf sounded reflective. “They arrived full of vigor, but by the time they left, their brows were practically tied in knots…”

“That’s because the meeting wasn’t quite what they expected—neither in form nor in the long-term impact it revealed,” Gawain said knowingly. “For more than half the delegates, they probably thought this was just another ‘alliance conference,’ like the treaty talks between kingdoms they’d attended before. Everyone puts forward conditions, promises mutual benefits, swears solemn oaths, and becomes temporary allies… That understanding isn’t entirely wrong, but it’s too narrow. The Community Alliance is a far more lasting, solemn, and meaningful organization. I tried to convey that during the meeting, which caught many off guard.”

Amber waved a hand. “But you can’t blame them—people have a hard time imagining things they’ve never encountered.”

Gawain gave the half-elf a half-smile. “It’s rare to see you so forgiving toward the ‘big shots.’”

“I’m not blind. I saw how the ‘big shots’ performed today. At least they weren’t stupid, right?” Amber raised an eyebrow. “They all understood the situation. That’s not bad.”

Gawain smiled but didn’t pursue the topic. After a moment’s thought, he said slowly, “Tomorrow we have the most important votes… What’s your take? How will it go?”

“I think there’s a high chance of unanimous approval—for both the alliance’s establishment and the creation of the joint maritime and aerial patrol zone,” Amber answered seriously after some consideration. “You showed them a crisis big enough to wake everyone up and unite them, demonstrated the necessity of joining the alliance, and then offered benefits they can’t refuse… Aside from the overly cautious fools who won’t make any decision, I doubt anyone will reject these two fundamental proposals.”

“Benefits they can’t refuse…” Gawain muttered softly, a trace of emotion in his voice.

During the first half of the meeting, he had focused on building a sense of crisis in the world. Melita Pernia’s speech had helped reinforce that. It wasn’t a sophisticated tactic, but it was necessary—only by facing external pressure together could the factions unite. Tangible, ongoing natural disasters often play a key role in forming alliances, and the delegates’ reactions in the first half proved this.

But external pressure alone wasn’t enough. From his past and present experiences, Gawain understood one thing: illogical things always happen in this world. When facing a common crisis, some will choose to fight separately or even attack each other amid the chaos. Some will remain suspicious and isolated to protect their own little patch. It may seem foolish, but it’s part of human nature. To build an alliance that gathers all mortal powers, he had to confront these “negative aspects of human nature.” So, he needed not only external pressure to “push” the factions together but also enough internal incentives to keep them united.

This included a “Basic World Trade Act” beneficial to all, a “Maritime Trade Promotion Plan” meaningful to all nations along the continental sea routes, many provisions protecting the basic interests of weaker members, and the “Charter of the Mortal Civilizations Community Alliance” (the “Community Charter”). These were designed to attract potential member states who were hesitant or doubtful about the alliance’s future. Judging by the delegates’ reactions in the second half of the meeting… it seemed to be working.

Any faction represented here today might lack full understanding of the apocalyptic crisis, but their sense for benefits was sharp. Even faced with a pile of strange new clauses and plans, smart people could smell the promise of long-term gains.

An alliance bound by interests is fragile—Gawain knew that well. But for now… there seemed to be no better option.

Just then, Amber’s voice interrupted his thoughts: “Looks like we have a visitor.”

Gawain had already sensed a presence approaching in the corridor before Amber spoke. Shortly after, a knock came at the door. After a brief announcement, the door to the resting room opened, and a familiar figure stepped inside.

Melita Pernia.

Now the dragon ambassador, the blue dragon maiden immediately composed herself and bowed to Gawain. “Greetings, great—”

Gawain cut her off quickly. “Stop, stop. No need for such formalities—we’re friends in private, aren’t we?”

“The great Emperor Cecil—words must be finished, holding them back is even more uncomfortable,” Melita ignored his interruption and quickly finished the awkward honorific. Then she looked up, her face relaxing into a natural smile. “I hope I’m not disturbing you so late?”

Gawain instinctively recalled their first meeting, which had indeed been a late-night disturbance. He chuckled and stepped aside, gesturing toward the deeper part of the room. “It’s just early evening, hardly late. Come in, I’m quite free.”

Melita nodded in thanks and made herself comfortable in a chair by the fireplace. Though it was spring, the northern elven outpost near the wasteland border was still chilly at night. The small fire in the hearth brought a cozy warmth, and the finely crafted elven decorative bricks added a tasteful touch to the room.

As Melita settled in, Gawain took the chair opposite her. Amber brought over some tea and snacks, placing them on the small table by the fire, then plopped down casually beside Gawain. Her amber eyes scanned the blue dragon sitting across from her. “You know, I never would’ve guessed you had the knack for being an ambassador—you came across as more polished than many professional diplomats during your speech.”

“I was actually nervous to death the whole time,” Melita sighed helplessly. “What you saw as polish was just a bit of experience from introducing services to clients when I was an agent.”

“Your performance has been excellent,” Gawain said with a smile. “The news you brought had the impact it needed, and the arrival of the dragonflights helped keep the entire situation under control. With the dragons of Talrond joining the alliance, many of the representatives from other nations will have their doubts eased, and those who were wavering will now stand firm.”

“By now, Talrond is little more than an empty shell,” Melita said, shaking her head. “But that’s not why I’ve come at this moment.”

Gawain immediately stopped the casual conversation, his expression turning serious. “Given how busy you’ve been lately, I’m guessing your visit isn’t just a social call.”

Melita nodded slightly, her face grave. “Do you remember the tower out on the sea to the northwest of Talrond?”

At the mention of the blue dragon’s words, Gawain’s demeanor shifted instantly. He furrowed his brow. “The Tidebreaker?”

“Yes, that very tower once tainted by the god of the逆潮,” Melita said in a low voice. “For over a million years, the dragons of Talrond have kept watch over that dangerous spire. Our god… when he was still with us, he remained vigilant over it as well. But now, after the war that changed everything, with Talrond nearly destroyed and the god gone, the tower still stands out at sea—but it’s left completely unguarded.”

Gawain felt a surge of unease. “You mean… something’s changed with the tower?”

“Not yet,” Melita said solemnly, “but this is a matter that demands our attention. Just moments ago, a kin flew in from Talrond bearing a letter from Chief Helragor. In it, he expressed his deep concerns about that tower.”

“What is he worried about?”

“He fears that those lost brethren, if they’ve truly lost their way, won’t just come to raid the lands of Loren,” Melita explained. “They might first be drawn to that tower, and once ‘knowledge’ corrupts them there, they could then fly to Loren. If that happens, the threat won’t be limited to stealing food and treasure anymore.”

(End of chapter)