Chapter 1123: The Message
Yes—how many twists and turns must have unfolded for a once-renowned Imperial Duke, a blessed warrior knight, a wolf general unmatched in battle prowess, to ultimately become a scholar lost in his laboratory, obsessively consumed by research? And not just that—this scholar could churn out thirty math problems an hour for his daughter, all under the guise of “mental entertainment”…
Anders suddenly felt a chill run down her spine. She shivered instinctively before carefully choosing her words, trying to convey the story of her father to her grandfather as clearly and succinctly as possible.
“This all began back in the year Father disappeared, during that blizzard at Winterwolf Fortress,” the young wolf general finally broke the silence, her voice slow and deliberate. “That year, Father wasn’t caught in an Ansu ambush as everyone thought—he actually ran into cultists of the End of All Things, who were active at the foot of the Dark Mountains…”
A warm breeze swept in from the plains, rustling the lush flower fields and woods of Longbranch Manor. Ripples shimmered across the pool in front of the main house as stray leaves and petals drifted down, spinning and scattering in the water. A maid bent to pick up a particularly beautiful petal, but it suddenly trembled and curled as if scorched by an invisible flame, shriveling into a tight ball before swiftly drifting away in another direction.
Startled and uneasy, the maid glanced up toward the main house—but saw nothing.
The chirping of insects filtered through the open windows, and the early summer midday heat began to seep inside. Ferdinand reined in the stray power that had slipped from him, listening quietly to Anders’s account. His brow furrowed and relaxed repeatedly, and after many emotional shifts, all his thoughts finally coalesced into a long, heavy sigh.
Captured by cultists, stripped of faith, twisted by dark sorcery in body and soul, fallen into a shadowy sect, stained by sin and corruption, and finally pledging allegiance to a foreign land… If he hadn’t heard Anders’s words with his own ears, Ferdinand could never have believed such things happened to the Empire’s once-bright rising star, to the son he had been so proud of.
The old duke found himself imagining how he might have reacted if he were younger, sterner, colder—would he have first mourned the suffering Bard endured as a father, or first raged at the stain on the family’s honor as Duke Wendell? But he couldn’t picture it. After witnessing the deepest darkness and malice of this world on that battlefield at Winterwolf, so many had been changed forever—including Ferdinand Wendell himself, once hailed as the “Iron Duke.”
He sighed again, feeling the weight of age settle upon him.
“Father said… he committed many wrongs, and he refuses to excuse himself by claiming he was forced. He admitted that many of his mad, depraved acts were done with full awareness, driven by the false zeal and messianic delusions inspired by the End of All Things cult. Though he has been pardoned now, he intends to spend the rest of his life atoning on the lands he once harmed,” Anders said nervously, watching her grandfather’s expression closely. After his two sighs, she finally spoke the words Bard had told her: “He also said that although he has sworn loyalty to Emperor Cecil, he has never done anything to harm Typhon’s interests—no military secrets leaked, no technology betrayed. He just wants to be a responsible researcher.”
“A responsible researcher…” Duke Ferdinand murmured softly. “So he won’t be coming back. Did he say anything he wanted me to know?”
“He asked in detail about your health, but didn’t ask me to pass on any message,” Anders shook her head. “I asked him, and he looked like he had something to say… but in the end, he said nothing.”
“I see,” the old duke said, shaking his head gently, unsurprised but wistful. “When he still needed his father, I only saw him as an Imperial soldier and heir to the family. Now he’s shed both those identities… I shouldn’t be surprised by this outcome.”
“Grandfather, Father…” Anders hesitated. She wasn’t sure how her grandfather and father had related; those distant childhood memories were blurred in her mind, and she wasn’t sure what to say. “He still cares about you very much.”
“I know, Anders. Don’t worry—I know,” Ferdinand said, a faint smile touching the corner of his eyes. “After all, I am his father.”
Anders nodded slowly, then couldn’t help but ask, “Do you resent his choice? He’s given up being a Typhonian… and may never return from Cecil’s land.”
Ferdinand was silent for a moment, lost in thought. Suddenly, he recalled the dreams he once had—visions blurred between reality and illusion, seeming to foretell Bard’s fate. They had troubled him deeply. Now… he finally understood the truth those omens had confirmed.
After a pause, the old duke asked, “Do you think he’s doing well over there?”
“He’s doing well,” Anders answered without hesitation, recalling the days she spent with her father in Solinburg. Though his work was hard for her to grasp, the fulfillment and peace she saw on his face were genuine. “He’s found a new way of life, new social circles. I can tell he enjoys it.”
“Then I have nothing to complain about,” Duke Ferdinand said quietly. “After all these years, he deserves to live for himself.”
“Grandfather, about His Majesty…”
Ferdinand shook his head slowly, about to speak, when a sudden knock interrupted him. Both grandfather and granddaughter turned toward the door as a servant entered the hall, bowing deeply.
“Your Grace, Madam, a royal messenger has arrived.”
“A royal messenger?” Anders repeated in surprise, glancing at her grandfather, who remained calm. Ferdinand nodded slightly to the servant. “Show the messenger in.”
Moments later, the royal messenger appeared before Anders, a composed, confident middle-aged man dressed in a dark blue coat trimmed with silver and red embroidery. Two attendants followed, each carrying a long, ornate wooden box.
Anders felt a pang of unease, wondering why Emperor Rosetta had suddenly sent a messenger. She followed protocol in greeting the visitor. After brief pleasantries, Duke Ferdinand asked the purpose of the visit. The man in the blue coat smiled.
“His Majesty knows that General Anders has returned to her lands today. The General has made great contributions to the Empire and endured a long winter’s imprisonment. Therefore, His Majesty has sent a gift of consolation—”
He turned to one attendant holding a lavish wooden box. “This is a knight’s longsword personally enchanted by Lady Windsor Mapel, head of the Royal Mage Association. It can command powerful winter forces or alter gravity within a certain range, and in critical moments, it protects the wielder from one legendary-level fatal injury. His Majesty has named it ‘Winter’s Edge.’ It is now yours, General Anders.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Anders said immediately, ordering a servant to accept the prestigious gift. Opening the box, she saw a longsword with a razor-sharp blade seemingly encased in an eternal frost—truly a fine weapon.
Though the age of traditional warfare had passed, and such weapons no longer decided entire battles against powerful artillery, it was still a remarkable sword.
As the servant carefully stored the gift, Anders and Duke Ferdinand’s eyes fell on the other wooden box carried by the second attendant.
“This second gift is for you, Duke Ferdinand,” the messenger said, his smile turning solemn.
“Since General Bard Wendell fell outside Winterwolf Fortress, the Wendell family has served the Empire faithfully for twenty years, making indelible contributions. Now, with General Anders in peril, preserving the Empire’s precious elite forces and preventing the Winter War from descending into ruin—the entire Empire owes you and your family immense gratitude for your sacrifices.
“This is another sword. Though not as powerful or legendary as ‘Winter’s Edge,’ it carries great significance: it was His Majesty’s personal sword for the past twenty years, named ‘Trust.’
“It once had a sister sword called ‘Loyalty,’ which belonged to General Bard Wendell. Unfortunately, it was lost after his death twenty years ago. Now, His Majesty presents this sword to you, Duke, both as thanks for your family’s long service and as a keepsake. Please take good care of it.”
Anders listened tensely, suddenly drawing a sharp breath as she caught a crucial detail in the messenger’s words—
Since her father’s unit vanished near the Dark Mountains two decades ago, almost everyone believed the wolf general was dead. Yet, officially, the Empire always declared him missing, never using the word “killed in action,” especially the royal family. In formal settings, that term was never uttered.
The young wolf general looked at her grandfather, who briefly froze, then his lips trembled as if forcing himself to speak.
“I… thank His Majesty for his grace…”
“Please accept this gift,” the messenger smiled, motioning for the attendants to step forward. “It is a token of His Majesty’s goodwill.”
“Of course,” Duke Ferdinand said promptly, ordering a servant to receive the long box. Opening it revealed a beautifully crafted sword with a sky-blue gem set in the hilt—both elegant and practical.
“Did His Majesty say anything else?” the old duke asked quickly.
“Only a simple phrase,” the messenger said solemnly. “He said: ‘May you both be well.’”
“May you both be well…” Duke Ferdinand repeated softly, nodding slowly after a long pause. “I understand. Please allow me to express my gratitude to His Majesty once again.”
The messenger, having fulfilled his duty, did not linger. Soon, he and his attendants departed, leaving the hall of Longbranch Manor once more to Anders and Duke Ferdinand alone.
The two long swords of special significance had already been collected by the attendants and taken to the nearby weapons display room.
Andersa finally broke the silence, unable to hold back any longer. “Grandfather, His Majesty—”
“No need to speculate on His Majesty’s thoughts, especially when he has already given you room to maneuver,” Duke Ferdinand interrupted, shaking his head before Andersa could say more. “Child, remember this: your father is no longer among the living. From this day forward, he died twenty years ago.”
Andersa looked at her grandfather, then slowly nodded. “Yes, I understand.”
“…Send someone to fetch a bottle of wine from the cellar,” Duke Ferdinand said after a brief pause, his voice calm and steady. “Let’s drink together… There’s much to celebrate today.”
…
The long-awaited sunlight bathed Aldern in its warm glow. As the fog lifted, the city finally embraced a clear blue sky. On this early summer day, Aldern would enjoy one of the rare stretches of sunshine it saw each year—after the long, lingering season of thick fog, the musty scent that had settled over the city would melt away like snow under the sun, vanishing quickly in these warm days.
In the upper study of the Obsidian Palace, Royal Head Maid Diana pushed open the door and approached Rosetta Augustus.
The Empress looked up from her scroll and met Diana’s gaze. “So the gift has arrived?”
“Yes,” the black-haired maid nodded gently. “The messenger just sent word. Duke Ferdinand and General Andersa have accepted the gift, and everything went smoothly.”
“Is that so… Then I suppose they understand my intentions.”
The imperial ruler allowed herself a faint, somewhat strange smile, shaking her head with a complex expression. “But, to be honest, I never imagined Bard was truly still alive… Though Ferdinand mentioned his dreams and premonitions, who would have thought that such insights from a transcendent would be confirmed in this way…”
Among those captured alongside General Andersa were several Typhon commanders, some seriously wounded and transferred to the Solin region for recuperation. Though their access to intelligence was limited, the name Bard Wendell had reached their ears—and after his return to the homeland, it found its way to Empress Rosetta’s desk.
It was a simple, straightforward line of intelligence transmission—so plain that it was obvious no secrecy or disguise had been employed.
Lost in thought, Empress Rosetta murmured softly to herself, “In a way, this news was willingly passed to us by Gawain Cecil…”
(End of chapter)