Chapter 132: The Spoils

“So this is a fragment of the Eternal Tablet?”

Gawain couldn’t help but show a look of surprise as he gazed at the small metal shard no larger than a palm.

“Yes, the Eternal Tablet—though I never expected it to look like this,” Viscount Andrew shook his head weakly. “Fragments of the Eternal Tablet are secretly revered by the major sects. Any other factions or individuals who manage to get their hands on a piece would never display it openly. At first, I had no idea what we had unearthed. But soon, my men found some remaining inscriptions in the ruins, which allowed us to confirm that this metal plate, heavily protected by magical wards, was indeed a fragment of the legendary Eternal Tablet…”

Andrew sighed and shook his head again. “Many of the magical devices in the ruins have long since ceased functioning, but the mechanisms guarding this fragment… they’re still active to this day. I paid a heavy price to retrieve it, but I didn’t realize that holding it in my hands was only the beginning of an even greater cost…”

Gawain recalled a saying from his previous life on Earth: “Innocent men suffer for the jewels they bear.”

He picked up the “tablet fragment” (though calling it a “stone” tablet seemed a stretch) and confirmed it was indeed metal. The pale golden alloy didn’t match any magical or conventional materials he knew—it seemed like some unknown composite. The front was incredibly smooth, almost glazed, beneath which intricate, fine patterns were etched. The back had several grooves of unclear purpose, some of which held small crystalline inlays.

Along the edges were neat, precise breaks resembling interlocking teeth, making the fragment a complex geometric shape. Rather than a simple shard broken off from a whole, Gawain suspected the Eternal Tablet itself was composed of many such geometric pieces, like a puzzle…

Fascinating.

He turned the fragment over thoughtfully. “They say mortals who touch the Eternal Tablet receive divine revelations. Why do I feel nothing holding this?”

“Merely touching it isn’t enough,” Viscount Andrew said slowly. “You need to communicate with it through your spirit. But my power is weak; even when I try, all I hear are faint, indistinct whispers—no knowledge comes through. But if it were you… perhaps you could even gain power directly.”

Gawain nodded but showed no intention of trying to communicate with it mentally.

In truth, he was deeply wary of the thing.

The Eternal Tablet—the legendary artifact that brought the gods’ faith to the mortal world. The first generation of mortal sages created countless religions and gained divine magic by coming into contact with it. To ordinary people, it might seem a blessing. But Gawain suspected it might also possess some form of mental control or brainwashing. What if a failed attempt at communication allowed the gods’ spirits to invade his mind? Even if not possessed, he didn’t want to be plagued by the gods whispering incessantly in his head.

“Please, take this fragment with you,” Viscount Andrew suddenly said. “You can keep it yourself, offer it to the king, or hand it over to whichever church you trust or want to ally with.”

“You’re sure?” Gawain raised an eyebrow. “You know its value. Even if you don’t dare keep it, handing it to the king or a church could earn you a fortune.”

“I don’t want any further involvement with this thing,” Andrew said forcefully, shaking his head. “I don’t even want it to pass through my hands anymore. And if it weren’t for you today, I wouldn’t have survived. Consider it a gift.”

Gawain smirked faintly. “Hard to say if it’s a gift or a curse…”

Still, without hesitation, he pocketed the Eternal Tablet fragment.

It was a ticking time bomb—enough to drive a dark organization like the End of All Things to risk everything for a noble family’s possession. Yet it was also a treasure, potentially holding secrets of the gods, maybe even a glimpse of the world’s true nature. Gawain couldn’t simply ignore it.

With the End of All Things recently defeated, he was confident no one would immediately come after it. News would take time to spread, and outsiders wouldn’t know the fragment was in his hands anytime soon. During this relatively safe window, he intended to study the mysterious shard.

His “legendary figure in name only” status was also a strong safeguard. Though the Cecil domain was weak now, in this era, the reputation of a legendary hero often carried more weight than a powerful noble house. Gawain didn’t mind leveraging that.

Of course, he was aware of the risks. If things got dangerous, he wouldn’t hesitate to hand the fragment over to the king or church. Divine knowledge was precious to some, but it didn’t necessarily translate into the productive power he needed. If necessary, he could trade this sample for other benefits—though only as a last resort.

Meanwhile, Pittman and the two knights who had gone to rescue people from the central courtyard returned to the council chamber.

“The cultists’ power is already fading from the castle. Removing the magic from those poor souls isn’t difficult,” the old druid explained why he’d managed to dispel the large-scale dark magic so quickly. “Myself and the knights rescued some, then had the healthier among them help free others. Using plant control, we managed to dig out everyone buried underground. But many lives were lost—about a third beyond saving. Among the survivors, many suffered severe mental damage; some may recover, but others might remain lost in a fog forever.”

“That’s a heavy toll,” Gawain said sympathetically, glancing at Viscount Andrew.

Andrew could only smile bitterly. “I’ll have to spend a fortune on the aftermath… but I’m still alive, so I’ll recover. My greatest relief is that my two sons went to collect rents in the domain a few days ago—their absence probably saved their lives. But my little daughter…”

“Your daughter is alive,” Knight Philip spoke up, “but the poor girl suffered serious mental trauma. She’s currently in a state of madness. Only the gods know if she’ll ever recover.”

“Alive is what matters… alive is what matters…” Andrew said with a complex expression. The once elegant, confident, proud noble had aged at least twenty years overnight. His voice was heavy with exhaustion. Though there was some good news, it wasn’t enough to sustain his drained body and spirit. Still, he forced himself to look up at Gawain standing nearby. “No matter what, I must thank you for your help. The Leslie family owes you and your knights a great debt. If there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Clearly, he knew giving away that hot potato of a tablet fragment as a gift was problematic…

“Mutual aid is a rule Charles and I set for the Ansu nobility seven hundred years ago,” Gawain said righteously. “Today, I’m just fulfilling that promise. I won’t take advantage of this opportunity to profit. But since we have a chance to talk, perhaps we can strengthen our cooperation.”

“Cooperation?” Andrew repeated the word.

“You know the New Cecil domain is still developing, and we’re short on all kinds of supplies, most of which come from Tansan Town,” Gawain smiled. “Right now, what we need most are mana storage crystals and various magical materials. And Tansan’s mines have large crystal veins.”

Seeing Andrew’s stiff expression, Gawain continued, “Don’t worry, I’m willing to pay. I just hope to buy large quantities of crystal-based magical materials from Tansan at discounted prices. We don’t require high quality—even the lowest-grade mana crystals will do, as long as the quantity is sufficient. You won’t lose out. Our supply gap is huge; New Cecil’s demand can easily absorb a large portion of your crystal output. Even at a lower price, your profits will exceed the costs of transporting and selling the crystals piecemeal elsewhere. If you agree, we can discuss prices once you’ve had time to recover.”

Andrew relaxed and nodded slightly as he listened. He began to see this as a win-win: Cecil would get cheap magical materials in bulk, and Tansan Town wouldn’t have to worry about selling their crystals, quickly raising funds to repair the castle and cover the aftermath expenses.

As for how the once penniless Cecil family suddenly became wealthy and even started minting coins… Andrew didn’t want to know.

Whether they’d found gold in the Dark Mountains or the ancestor from seven centuries ago had dug up the family’s true fortune, it was none of his concern. As a pragmatic border viscount, Andrew Leslie always kept an open mind and seized what truly benefited him.

In fact, he was partly right: Gawain had indeed uncovered the family’s real fortune—only it was the coffin of the entire Ansu Kingdom…

Seeing Andrew nod, Gawain went on, “Second, population. I want you to help spread the word that Cecil welcomes refugees. If you have surplus people you don’t want, you can send them to me. In short, any excess population—so long as they’re not criminals—I want them. I won’t demand specific numbers; just send what you can.”

This time Andrew nodded more enthusiastically. He saw no problem sending people to Cecil. In fact, it was a good way to clear out “useless” populations from his domain. Too many vagrants crowded the slums, producing no value.

“One more thing,” Gawain smiled. “I want to hire some literate people who understand basic math—not scholars, but apprentices will do. I need a group to serve as clerks or copyists. The only requirements are literacy, numeracy, and patience.”

(End of chapter)