Chapter 32: An Inheritance—Truly an Inheritance
To be honest, Rebecca really wasn’t good with matters like this. Even though Gawain had explained everything to her once, she only half understood it all. But one thing she did grasp was that her esteemed ancestor didn’t seem to hold King Francis II in very high regard.
“Hostile? Not exactly. But being cautious? Absolutely necessary,” Gawain replied casually when Rebecca voiced her doubts. He glanced at Amber, who was standing nearby, then continued openly, “Don’t forget, this is the ‘Second Dynasty’ we’re talking about. For a royal family that’s never been entirely legitimate, the Cecil family can be seen as founding heroes—or, depending on your perspective, as remnants of the previous regime. Even if we don’t bear ill will, King Francis II has every reason to be wary. And his wariness is why I remain on guard.”
“So you’re planning to cause trouble for His Majesty the King?” Rebecca blinked in surprise.
“No, not really,” Gawain shrugged. “I’m just stirring the pot a little.”
Rebecca: “Huh?!”
Finding it hard to explain further, Gawain quickly changed the subject. “Forget that for now. Let’s get back to what we were talking about. Amber…”
Before he could finish, Amber raised both hands eagerly. “I know, I know—stand guard outside, right? Ugh, what a busybody I am…”
“No,” Gawain raised an eyebrow. “I meant you can stay nearby. Of course, if you’re bored, you can go rest in your room. After all the fuss tonight, you must be tired.”
Amber looked at him incredulously. “Hey, since when did you get so kind?”
She shook her head and shuffled over to the desk. “I’m not going anywhere. I want to see what you two are up to… Wait, you’re not seriously dividing up an inheritance, are you?”
Gawain shook his head, ignoring the half-elf’s teasing, and placed the platinum disc back on the table.
“You said this is a key,” Rebecca recalled Gawain’s unfinished explanation. “Could it be to some secret family treasure?”
Amber immediately perked up, pretending to look around suspiciously—overacting to the max.
Gawain smiled. “It is a treasure, yes. Hidden in a vault somewhere along the southern border. Originally, it was meant for the Kingdom of Ansu. Of course, by today’s standards, it’s no longer a massive fortune. But for the expeditionary force that fled to this land back then, it was half their wealth.”
Rebecca’s eyes widened.
“It was a kind of insurance policy for the Kingdom of Ansu. Back then, no one knew what tomorrow would bring,” Gawain said with a smile, revealing the true purpose of this trip to the capital. “The expedition fled north from the ruins of Gondor, gathering survivors and resources along the way. The group grew larger, slower, and more conspicuous. When crossing the Dark Mountains, a horde of monsters from the wasteland discovered us. The army was escorting civilians through the mountains, but they couldn’t keep pace with the relentless monsters. A fierce battle broke out, with heavy losses. Afterward, Charles and I realized something: those monsters wouldn’t give up. If we carried all our supplies over the mountains, the whole group might perish. So we made a decision…”
“We left behind some of the heavier supplies that would slow us down, hiding them deep inside an abandoned border fortress. We sealed the vault with powerful magic, then traveled light and pressed on north.”
“You know the rest of the story—the expedition established a foothold in the north, founding a new kingdom between the Holy Spirit Plains and the northern mountains. Charles I built up the Sunir region, but the supplies in the south… they still lie there quietly.”
Rebecca asked curiously, “Why didn’t you retrieve them?”
“At first, the situation was unstable and the cost too high,” Gawain explained. “Pollution was spreading, and the monsters even pushed the corrupted zone north of the Dark Mountains. The vault’s location became a contaminated area. Sending a team there was unwise. More importantly, we found rich resources in the northern mountains, and the Holy Spirit Plains began producing steady wealth. Soon, that new wealth would surpass what was left in the south. So over time, the southern vault was forgotten.”
Rebecca looked at the platinum disc in Gawain’s hand. “But it seems it wasn’t completely forgotten…”
“Exactly. The founders remembered where the treasure was hidden. Though its value would diminish over time, it was a ‘monument’ to that epic expedition. We also knew the magical tide would eventually recede, and future generations could safely retrieve it. So Charles and I made a pact: our two families would keep the secret, passing down the story of the southern treasure through the Cecil and Morn bloodlines. If the magical tide ever faded and the kingdom needed that wealth, we’d bring it back. Imagine—a secret passed down for centuries, a royal and founding noble family’s vault hidden in the mountains, unlocked only with a token. Charles, that old romantic, thought it was pretty cool.”
Amber sized up Gawain. “Another one of those decisions you two made after getting drunk, huh?”
Gawain: “…You could say that.”
Rebecca stared at her ancestor in stunned silence, then said slowly, “But I, as a Cecil heir, have never heard this story before…”
“Secrets passed down like this often get lost,” Gawain sighed. “Charles died suddenly back then and didn’t have time to explain it to his descendants…”
Rebecca: “…”
“But it seems Charles’s side did a good job passing the secret on,” Gawain cleared his throat awkwardly and waved the platinum disc. “I’m here to confirm the key still exists. Since it does, it means the Ansu royal family hasn’t touched that treasure in the past seven hundred years. Charles knew the secret, his legitimate descendants know it—but the illegitimate ones don’t.”
In 635–636 Ansu, a civil war shattered the royal succession. The king died without heirs, and his siblings mostly perished in the conflict. Eventually, a northern duke supported a commoner’s illegitimate son—whose true identity was unknown—to ascend the throne…
Even if that illegitimate son was genuine, he wouldn’t know the secret of the southern vault.
Rebecca’s eyes sparkled as she looked at the “key,” but then she frowned. “But can we really just use it whenever we want? That’s…”
Gawain glanced at his N+1-times great-granddaughter. “Of course you can. You’re a Cecil heir—have some confidence. Charles and I buried that treasure together. Besides Charles himself, who else in the world is more qualified to inherit it than me? I don’t believe Charles can just jump out of his coffin like I can…”
Rebecca thought for a moment, then suddenly grabbed Amber’s arm firmly. “You absolutely must not go digging up the royal tomb!”
Amber: “…What?”
The half-elf suddenly shivered, her face tense as she stared at Gawain. “Wait! I’ve just heard all these secrets… You’re not seriously planning to kill me to keep me quiet, are you?”
Gawain really wanted to smack her against the wall. “If I wanted to silence you, do you think I’d wait this long?”
Amber’s nervousness didn’t fade. “But you telling me all this as an outsider…”
“First, I trust you enough for now. Second, I know you’re smart,” Gawain said, holding up the disc. “The only bold thing you might try is stealing this disc. But it can only be activated by the blood of the Morn or Cecil families. Whether the Morn bloodline still exists is uncertain, so if you want to profit, your only option is…”
Amber stepped forward, chest out, head held high, voice full of righteous conviction: “Serving the founding heroes is the greatest honor. I, Amber, will devote myself wholeheartedly—this epic stuff isn’t about money, right?”
“Then I really won’t talk money with you…”
“Of course, if you insist on talking money, I can’t help that.”
Gawain had never met anyone so shameless yet so earnest at the same time…
Later that night, no more visitors disturbed them.
The row of mousetraps and nails Gawain had set on the study windowsill went unused.
Though, honestly, those wouldn’t have done much against those unscientific shadow stalkers anyway…
The next day, after a good rest, Gawain and his party arrived at Silverfort.
The same court official from yesterday greeted them, and King Francis II had arranged an equally grand reception—making sure to save face.
This time, two squads of mounted couriers were sent out, patrolling the main roads around the royal district, loudly broadcasting by magical amplification: “Ansu’s founding duke, Gawain Cecil, is entering Silverfort.”
It seemed Prince Edmund had done a good job conveying Gawain’s wishes to his father. Francis II was putting on a show for outsiders.
What the shadow guard reported back, however, was anyone’s guess—judging by the king’s expression, it probably wasn’t good.
After tidying his appearance and making sure the Explorer’s Sword hung prominently at his waist, Gawain strode confidently into Silverfort.
(End of chapter)