Chapter 34: Negotiations

When Rebecca’s name was suddenly called, she jolted upright. For this young heiress of a declining noble family, the scene before her—surrounded by a circle of powerful figures—was something she had never even dreamed of. Not even when she was a child, wrestling with wolves in the forest and getting knocked out by a swipe of a paw, had she experienced such a surreal sense of scale. Watching the ancient patriarch chatting amiably with these dignitaries, she almost forgot that she herself was one of the key participants in this meeting.

But Rebecca was nothing if not stubborn. Even though she was a bit dazed, she relied on her iron will—almost like nerves on the verge of necrosis—to calm herself. After gathering her thoughts, this young southern minor lord began to recount the nightmare that had unfolded in the lands of Cecil.

Everyone listened intently. None of them had expected such a young girl to speak on this matter, but the disaster itself silenced all doubts. The gravity of the situation was undeniable.

Most present had some knowledge of the events on the southern border. The incident was already spreading like wildfire throughout the southern regions, with rumors flying in every direction. Of course, not all of this was thanks to Gawain—his agents mainly circulated news of his own “resurrection,” not the disaster itself. But disasters are the perfect breeding ground for rumors. After two months of brewing and spreading, the story had become common knowledge in the south.

Commoners lacked the means to investigate the truth, but the nobility did not. Through various channels, everyone here had at least a rough understanding of what had happened. Francis II even held secret reports from many southern nobles. Yet no matter how detailed the reports, none could match the accuracy and reliability of an eyewitness account.

As Rebecca’s narration grew more fluent, the pieces of the disaster fell into place, linking it to the Dark Magic Tide from seven centuries ago. The appearance of a dragon only added a layer of mystery to the whole affair.

Watching the king and nobles furrow their brows, Gawain sighed softly.

Just moments ago, these people had been focused on the resurrection of the founding duke and whether the Cecil family would demand favors from the crown. They had probably forgotten that the Cecil family’s main purpose in coming to the capital was to report on these monsters. But it was hard to blame them—Gawain’s presence simply overshadowed everything else.

And that presence was entirely his own doing…

“…Now, most of the Cecil lands have been reduced to scorched earth. Dragonfire is infused with magic; the soil it burns cannot grow crops for years. My people have been forced to live under the protection of Viscount Gruman,” Rebecca stood, clenching her fists. The earlier fear and nervousness had vanished. “Your Majesty, esteemed lords, though the Cecil domain is small, this disaster is a warning. The dragon’s purpose may be unclear, but the monsters are undeniably a catastrophe. They appeared seven hundred years ago as well, and they were responsible for the fall of the Gondor Empire—my ancestors lived through it all.”

Francis II began whispering with his chief advisor and the Duke of the North, while others lowered their heads to discuss. It was clear they did not dismiss Rebecca’s report as nonsense. This was thanks to the constant rumors, secret letters from the south, and Gawain Cecil’s own presence. Without these, a minor noblewoman from a backwater southern province claiming her lands were destroyed by monsters and dragons would have been laughed off—or worse, accused of fabricating stories.

But how seriously they took it, and what actions they would take, remained uncertain.

After all, the world had been at peace for seven centuries.

“Duke Cecil,” said a tall, slender man seated several seats to Gawain’s left. He was Bald Franklin, Duke of the West, a refined and scholarly gentleman. “I believe your family’s honesty on this matter, but it is truly incredible—if I may be so bold, are these monsters really the same as those from the Dark Magic Tide seven centuries ago?”

“I fought them for twenty years, until death. Even as ashes, I would recognize them,” Gawain said gravely. “And I’ve faced them again recently. I can confirm these monsters are the same as those that emerged from the Dark Magic Tide. Unfortunately, they disintegrate quickly after death, leaving no bodies to study. The dragon burned the entire domain, so we can’t send anyone to investigate the current situation.”

Bald Franklin exchanged a glance with Silas Loren, Duke of the East. Seeing this, Gawain added, “If you think the Cecil family is exaggerating to gain sympathy and leverage a return to power, you can say so outright.”

“No, no, we don’t think that,” Bald quickly replied. “We just need to… verify these claims. After all, this involves the Dark Magic Tide from seven centuries ago. The significance of this matter… surpasses what any single human kingdom can handle alone.”

“But they’ve already come knocking!” Rebecca couldn’t hold back and stood again. “I saw them with my own eyes!”

“Calm down,” Gawain said, placing a hand on her shoulder and gently guiding her back to her seat. Then he turned to Francis II. “I understand your caution. War is costly. I’ve brought some evidence—weaponry and armor used by our soldiers in the southern lands. Though the monsters’ bodies can’t be preserved, the equipment inevitably becomes tainted by elemental corruption during battle. The residual corrosion on these items should provide some clues. I doubt even the most skilled royal scholars could find any earthly equivalent to this kind of corruption.”

Two burly attendants brought forward a large chest. Opening it, they displayed several battered swords and twisted, deformed pieces of armor.

The metal looked as if it had been soaked in strong acid—pitted and dull, with a filthy sheen. The most severely corroded pieces had become almost wood-like in texture, crumbling into flakes at the slightest touch.

“They’re harmless now; you can touch them,” Gawain explained as the king and nobles examined the samples. “But until two weeks ago, these metals were still disintegrating on their own. If historians over the past seven centuries haven’t been completely negligent, there should be records of this in the annals.”

“There are, there are…” Francis II nodded.

“Additionally, we stumbled upon a wild mage’s notes mentioning solar flares and surges in magical energy…”

Gawain shared all the intelligence he had, but the wild mage’s notes failed to make much of an impression.

To most present, those notes were less convincing than the flakes falling off the weapons and armor on the table.

“Do you know where the dragon went?” Finally, the Duchess of the North, Victoria Wilde, broke the silence. Compared to the monsters, she seemed more concerned about the dragon’s whereabouts. “Or can you guess its purpose?”

Gawain shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Though he was senior in rank, that didn’t mean he was more knowledgeable than everyone else. The Gawain Cecil from seven centuries ago had never dealt with dragons.

At least, not as far as his memories recalled.

After seeing those crystals last night, Gawain was no longer so sure about the memories he’d inherited.

“In fact… three months ago, rumors of a dragon surfaced in my lands,” the duchess said deliberately. “Someone claimed to have seen a dragon flying down from the cold northern mountains—but no other witnesses were found. The rumor’s originator was proven to be drunk, mistaking snowstorms for a dragon.”

Gawain immediately asked, “Did he describe the dragon’s appearance?”

“No,” the duchess shook her head. “But I’ll continue investigating when I return.”

“It must be investigated—not just the dragon, but the monsters as well,” Francis II said. “We need to see if similar things are appearing elsewhere in the kingdom, or if there are unusual surges in magical energy.”

Rebecca couldn’t help but speak again. “But investigation alone isn’t enough. We must prepare for battle—these monsters appear suddenly, without warning. If we don’t prepare in advance, we won’t be able to defend ourselves. By the time investigators find their tracks, it will already be too late…”

Silas Loren, Duke of the East, shot Rebecca a displeased look. “Do you expect soldiers across the entire kingdom to be battle-ready, waiting for monsters that may or may not appear at all?”

Rebecca instinctively replied, “Of course, that would be best…”

“That’s impossible. We can’t mobilize the entire army for a vague possibility. The local nobles would rebel, and the crown’s credibility would suffer,” Silas said sternly. Strong and tall, he had the typical bearing of a warrior. “Besides, we still face the threat of the Typhon Empire to the east—that nation is a wolf, waiting to tear into Ansu’s flesh. It’s been that way for a long time.”

After the fall of the Gondor Empire, its remnants fled in four directions, founding new kingdoms in the continent’s north, south, east, and west. The Typhon Empire occupied the east and had grown to be the strongest of the four.

The northern, southern, and western human realms coexisted with native kingdoms or races, but Typhon was now the sole power in the east. Its strength and aggressive nature were well known.

Ansu bordered Typhon, with fertile lands and rich mines along their shared border—a natural flashpoint for conflict.

For the first few centuries, the human kingdoms, sharing common origins, maintained peace. But long-term peace was unrealistic. A century ago, Ansu was torn by civil war, and Typhon took advantage to make moves along the border. Relations between the two countries rapidly deteriorated, and now peace was almost nonexistent.

There were no large-scale wars, but small skirmishes never ceased.

Given Ansu’s current situation—peaceful and barren in the south, no conflicts with northern neighbors, and allied with the Ogure tribe to the west—only the eastern border had borne the brunt of warfare for the past hundred years. For Silas Loren, a military man, it was unthinkable to divert forces to prepare for these almost mythical monsters. To him, the Typhon army, constantly prowling just beyond his nose, was a far greater threat.

(End of chapter)