Chapter 1104: After the Meeting

The meeting had come to an end.

As the ancient magical runes from a distant era gradually faded away, the massive projection ritual that had illuminated the wilderness for ten days began its reversal sequence. Brilliant curtains of light descended from the sky, dismantling the grand, archaic stone pillars and stone tables and chairs into drifting motes of magical energy. Amid the ethereal, harmonious resonance, the image of the Oath Stone Circle slowly vanished from everyone’s sight. Meanwhile, the enormous square rune stone that had once sunk into the earth rose again from the soil, quietly absorbing the last lingering glow.

At last, the Oath Stone Circle returned to the world it belonged to. The elves began tidying up the rune stones and the surrounding facilities of the venue. Outside the meeting hall, representatives from various nations stood solemnly on a stretch of open ground, watching the scene unfold. Each of them felt a subtle stirring deep within.

Camilla stood beside Wenna Whitebloom, the orc chieftain. Her pointed ears twitched twice, the fine fur at their tips trembling gently in the warm breeze. She watched as the Silver Empress performed a ceremonial “tribute” to the rune stone with grave reverence. Nearby, many people carried arcane machinery, recording every moment of the scene. Camilla narrowed her eyes slightly and whispered, “We’ve witnessed history…”

“No, we’ve made history,” Wenna shook her head. “Just as Gawain Cecil said, history is created by people, endured by people, recorded by people, and inherited by people. This is the turning point—and soon, it will touch everyone.”

“It’s only been ten days, but you suddenly sound so much more profound,” Camilla teased, glancing down at her longtime friend. “I still remember how, before you came, all you cared about was how to close a big deal quickly. Now you sound just like Stur—hardly like a gray elf anymore.”

Wenna rolled her eyes. “There are philosophers and poets among the gray elves too. You’re just judging us with a narrow mind.”

Camilla shrugged and fell silent, her curious gaze returning to the final stages of the ritual. Behind her, along the road leading to Outpost 112, brand-new flags fluttered proudly in the wind at the edge of the wasteland. The flags bore a pure white background, embroidered with blue and gold threads depicting a design unlike any national emblem: a planet outlined with its known continents, encircled by a prominent ring.

This was the banner of the Mortal Civilizations Alliance. It was said that Emperor Gawain Cecil himself had designed the emblem—the planet symbolizing the world that bore the mortal nations, and the ring representing the alliance’s core principle: unity in progress and retreat, the fates of all nations intertwined. Many speculated that the ring might also symbolize the soon-to-be-established circumcontinental trade routes, or perhaps some kind of “cycle” inherent to the world itself. Of course, these theories were never officially acknowledged by the three great empires.

Gawain lowered his gaze from the flag, a faint smile playing on his lips. He was quite pleased with his design, especially the ring. It could be interpreted in many ways, but no one guessed that it also symbolized a real “star ring” floating in space—a celestial orbital station encircling the planet. He hoped it would serve as a subtle metaphor. And he wasn’t worried about what the mortal nations would think if one day they launched a spaceship and saw the star ring for themselves. He never intended to explain it; after all, the ring’s meaning was manifold, and if anyone called it a coincidence, then so be it.

It was a little personal joke, a cryptic “Easter egg” he left for the world. Of course, the dragons might see something else when they looked at the ring—they knew about the Voyagers. But that didn’t matter much. Some things… Gawain knew he would have to discuss with those ancient races who had lived through the “Voyager Era” sooner or later.

Lost in thought, a familiar presence approached. Gawain turned to see Rosetta coming toward him—the once-cursed “Marked One,” who had long since freed herself from the Eye of God’s curse. Despite the exhausting ten-day meeting, her spirit was not weary; instead, it seemed fuller, more vibrant. A faint smile graced her face, and the black-haired Princess Mathilda followed closely behind.

“This is a victory,” Rosetta said, “though just a small initial battle in the grand campaign.”

“Typhon’s position is crucial,” Gawain replied, looking at her. Over the past few years, she had been a formidable rival, and even now—and for a long time to come—the competition between Typhon and Cecil would not end. But where common interests existed, he trusted Typhon to be a reliable ally—at least the only reliable one he could find in the northern continent. “Though we’ve formed an alliance, each member nation plays a different role. Few stand with us on equal footing in the fight against the gods and in planning the counterattack on the wasteland.”

“I understand what you mean,” Rosetta said calmly.

Gawain’s words were tactful but clear: the alliance was established, and the mortal united front was taking shape. Yet the mortal nations were many and varied, with vast disparities in power. Some were shockingly backward. While the alliance’s goal was to make every mortal nation a “comrade” on the front lines, in reality many members served mainly as sources of raw materials and dumping grounds—at least for a long time. Conversely, the nations capable of resisting divine calamities, natural disasters, and dragon invasions would reap most of the alliance’s benefits, and this would continue for quite a while.

But these benefits wouldn’t come free. The strong plundering the weak without conditions was neither Gawain’s vision for the alliance nor in line with the charter’s order, and certainly not in keeping with the ultimate goal of “survival together.”

“Starting next month, Typhon will open all our research on the War God’s remnants to the Theocratic Council, along with all the knowledge the Augustus family holds about the gods,” Rosetta said after a brief pause. “Also, the social data we discussed last time. I hope Cecil will reciprocate with equal information sharing.”

“You can rest assured. The Cecil Theological Archives will also be open to all member nations next month. The Silver Empire has promised to release thousands of years’ worth of theological knowledge, records of folk belief changes, and data on cult activities. We will build a grand knowledge repository, jointly seeking the secrets of the gods from the vast sea of information.”

“Thousands of years of records from the Silver Empire?” Rosetta’s eyes flickered with a subtle change. Even with her strong will, the news was hard to take calmly. “That’s… an unimaginable treasure.”

“Indeed. If not for the alliance and the Theocratic Council, who would have imagined we’d get to see the complete sacred heritage of the oldest empire on the continent?” Gawain smiled. “I was as excited as you when I first heard.”

Rosetta quickly composed herself, her gaze drifting to the dragon banners fluttering nearby. Her expression shifted slightly. “What about Talrond? As the oldest civilization in this world, what’s their stance?”

“Talrond is now a member of the Theocratic Council as well, so they’ve promised to share their theological secrets,” Gawain nodded, then shifted tone. “But they’ll only provide part of it, and it will come later.”

Rosetta frowned instinctively. “Why?”

“They need to sift through those ancient records buried in the wasteland. All Talrond’s archives and data storage facilities lie beneath the ruins. Even if some can be excavated, it’s uncertain how long it will take. Currently, only a few ancient dragons who lived through the primordial era can help, but sorting through memories takes time. And those ancient dragons are still Talrond’s leaders, with limited energy,” Gawain relayed information from Melita. “More importantly, some materials can’t be casually disclosed. It’s not a lack of goodwill from the dragons, but…”

“Dangerous?” Rosetta understood immediately. Having dealt with the Eye of God for decades, she knew the many taboos surrounding divine knowledge. “Some of the knowledge’s origins are unsafe?”

“Exactly,” Gawain nodded, lowering his voice slightly. “You know, the dragons have existed far longer than our recorded history. Over the ages, they maintained a symbiotic relationship with their gods. After entering a kind of locked state, they received many ‘gifts’ from the gods. These gifts are harmless to them, but who knows what would happen if other races got hold of them. They need time to carefully identify which knowledge can be safely shared… Please understand, they really need time.”

“To be honest, when I first heard the dragons would join the alliance, I never expected them to be in this state,” Rosetta sighed. “Now I just hope they recover their strength soon. We need stronger allies.”

Gawain nodded slightly but said nothing. After a moment’s thought, he changed the subject. “What are your thoughts on establishing an efficient communication network within the known civilized territories?”

Rosetta considered briefly, then nodded. “I understand its importance. If only Typhon and Cecil had a more efficient, transparent communication line earlier, we wouldn’t have paid so much extra cost over the War God issue…”

“Not only that, if the Theocratic Council is to function, we must build a communication network covering all nations,” Gawain said. “Currently, Cecil is researching a technology to combat divine contamination based on a ‘neural network.’ You’ve even seen some of its applications—at the Battle of Winterhold.”

Rosetta studied Gawain’s eyes intently, revealing nothing of her inner thoughts. After nearly ten seconds, she looked away and sighed softly. “Looks like I have to consider Cecil’s arcane network technology. But you should understand, even if we transform our country’s network, Typhon won’t allow outsiders to interfere.”

Gawain smiled as always. “Of course, I understand perfectly.”

Rosetta and Mathilda departed. Gawain exhaled softly and looked around for Rebecca, who had been missing since a while ago. After searching, he finally spotted the young woman pestering several elven mages with questions. He couldn’t help but smile wryly and muttered to the air beside him, “Call Rebecca over—tell her not to cause trouble. The mages are very busy right now.”

The scent of amber in the air flickered and vanished, and then in the distance, Rebecca’s cheerful expression suddenly froze. The girl nervously craned her neck to look around, and the next moment, her eyes met Gawain’s. She immediately hunched her shoulders and hurried over.

“Ancestor…” Rebecca approached Gawain, her face tense. “I didn’t cause any trouble, I swear… I was just asking around about how the Sentinel Tower operates.”

“…That kind of question, you should ask in a proper setting later. You don’t just stop the technicians on the road and interrogate them,” Gawain said, lightly tapping Rebecca on the head. Then he shifted gears. “Now, about the real matter—earlier, you went with the elves to observe the Messenger Hall’s communication system. So, what do you think? Can the elves’ communication tech be compatible with the neural network?”

Rebecca rubbed the spot Gawain had just tapped, making sure there was no bump, then nodded. “I studied it carefully and compared it with several rune sets the Silver Empire provided during our previous tech exchange. Overall, it should be feasible. To put it simply, the communication technologies we use share the same root—they’re all variants of transmission magic. It’s like a roadbed: we modulate it into a magical network signal, then into neural pulses compatible with the neural brambles. We’re just paving different surfaces on the same road, but it’s still a road…”

Finally diving into her area of expertise, Rebecca’s usual innocent awkwardness vanished instantly. Her eyes brightened, and she started talking rapidly. Honestly, she didn’t need to explain everything in such detail—Gawain could understand perfectly well—but he listened patiently without interrupting, a faint smile on his face. He liked seeing Rebecca so excited and animated.

When she finally paused, Gawain took the chance to speak. “So, it’s generally workable. What about the technical challenges in the details?”

“It’s still about encoding and forwarding,” Rebecca scratched her head. “Like our current communication line with the Silver Empire—we need a converter in the middle to connect our magical network communication with the elves’ Sentinel data chain. But right now, our communication with the Silver Empire is limited to the upper echelons, so a small rune converter suffices. If you want to build a public network that even civilians can use for high-speed communication, and that can keep expanding in the future, then we’ll need to set up some larger… larger…”

“Large servers, you mean…” Rebecca was still searching for the right words when Gawain quietly muttered to himself, “If we want to connect with Typhon’s network in the future, we’ll probably need something like that too…”

“Huh? Serve what?” Rebecca blinked, curious.

“Servers. To handle the ‘conversion’ function you mentioned,” Gawain said, reaching out to tousle Rebecca’s hair, which she had already messed up herself. “Don’t overthink the term. I have a rough plan on my end… I just hope Beltira’s brainpower is up to the task.”

Rebecca: “?”

(End of chapter)