Chapter 39: The Dark Mountains

Of course, despite his inner complaints, Gawain knew there was no avoiding the reality of how this world had developed.

Civilization follows certain patterns, but it’s also full of uncertainties. Sometimes, a groundbreaking technological breakthrough can catapult an entire civilization to a new level. But more often—especially when feudal ignorance holds overwhelming sway—progress stagnates, locked in place for centuries.

In a world where supernatural powers exist, social classes are rigidly fixed, and a great cataclysm has already occurred, this stagnation is even more severe.

The presence of extraordinary powers brings conveniences far beyond the era’s norm, yet it also shackles civilization’s growth. Those at the top, wielding these powers, live lives of ease and absolute control over the powerless majority—the “mortals.” Because magical talent is rare and unpredictable, it rarely serves as a driving force for societal advancement. The few lucky ones who awaken such powers simply become a new noble class, incapable and unwilling to change the fate of the masses.

Supernatural power does not belong to “mortals”—this was an unspoken rule taken for granted.

Because of this, social progress is painfully slow. Ordinary people, who make up the bulk of the population, have no means to change their circumstances. Meanwhile, the privileged upper class, enjoying the benefits of supernatural power, see no need for progress. Even the common folk don’t expect society to improve; they only pray to awaken magical talent someday.

In a world where ice arrows exist, who would think to invent refrigerators or air conditioning?

But an ice arrow will always just be an ice arrow. It can’t put ice cream in everyone’s hands on a hot summer day, nor can it help doctors preserve serums and vaccines anytime, anywhere.

At least, not in this era.

Gawain knew this was wrong. Supernatural power shouldn’t be a barrier to civilization. This world shouldn’t be trapped forever in the Middle Ages. Magic, at its core, is just a form of energy utilization. Its flexibility and convenience should be a catalyst for rapid development, not a chain. But none of this could be fixed overnight.

He explained in detail to Hetty and Rebecca why it was necessary to gather these statistics and what to pay attention to when making the records. Since they had never done this before—and many uneducated commoners might not even know their own surnames or ages—he relaxed the requirements. They only needed to record the craftsmen’s information accurately; for the rest of the commoners, just registering names would suffice for now.

Everything else could be improved once the new territory was established.

No one had ever conducted such a census of commoners before, because to the noble class of this world, commoners were almost worthless—even cannon fodder on the battlefield was barely enough. Their sole purpose was to produce food and serve as free labor. No one recognized the importance of “people,” so no one saw the need to register population data.

Fortunately, Rebecca—usually scatterbrained in other matters—understood this immediately. She quickly grasped Gawain’s point and happily set off with others to organize the data.

Considering she had even issued a decree allowing serfs to become free citizens through military service, this “incompetent” young lady lord wasn’t entirely useless after all.

With proper guidance, maybe she could even be trusted with personnel management someday (not really).

Luckily, the number of people to be registered was under nine hundred. After settling in Tansang Town, Sir Philip had already conducted a simple record of the survivors. With Hetty’s help, Rebecca soon compiled the data Gawain requested.

Once the information was in hand, Gawain decided to split the group into two teams to head toward their “new home.”

The first was an advance party, personally led by Gawain, Rebecca, and Hetty. This group included half the soldiers and militia under Sir Byron’s command, along with necessary craftsmen and a hundred laborers. Their mission was to establish a temporary camp at the destination, locate water sources, and prepare defenses against wild beast attacks.

The majority of the commoners would follow later, escorted by Sir Philip.

Charging over eight hundred people headlong into a barren wasteland was unwise. Although this group had no elderly, sick, or disabled (they hadn’t escaped), the defenseless commoners were safer trailing behind the advance party.

No matter how much preparation you make, it’s never enough when pioneering a wasteland. But you have to take the first step. After careful planning and deployment, Gawain and his advance party finally left Tansang Town, heading southeast toward the Dark Mountains.

They followed a tributary of the Whitewater River, moving along the relatively flat riverbanks. The knights and lords led the way at the front, soldiers guarded the flanks, and the craftsmen, along with supplies and tools, were protected in the center.

Hetty rode her horse, glancing back at the not-so-large group, and suddenly felt a pang of emotion. “I guess we’ve become pioneers too…”

“We are pioneers,” Gawain said with a smile.

Hetty blinked. “I meant the great expansion seven hundred years ago…”

Gawain shrugged. “That was me too.”

“…True,” she admitted.

“Have some confidence,” Gawain said, noticing her worry about the future. “Every step into the unknown is a great journey. Whether it was the second expansion seven centuries ago, the legendary first expansion in ancient times, or what we’re about to do now, it’s all equally grand. We’re not just building a new home—we might be ushering in a new era.”

Hetty stared at him, stunned for a moment, then nodded. She didn’t fully understand what he meant by “new era,” but if a legendary hero from the past said so, it must be something great and glorious.

Nearby, Amber clapped enthusiastically. The thief girl kept it simple: since Gawain was the boss now, whatever he said was right. Whether she understood or not, clapping was never wrong.

The closer they got to the Dark Mountains, the more desolate the scenery became. The power of human civilization was visibly fading in this southern land.

Back when the expansion fever hadn’t yet died down, descendants of the first generation of pioneer knights had carved out small settlements here with sword and flame, planning to push their territory back toward the ruins of Gondor. But with the recurring unrest of the magical tide, the dark, primal forces at civilization’s edge kept encroaching. The ever-growing monsters and worsening natural environment made these settlements unsustainable. Then the Mistmoon civil war broke out, reshuffling southern powers, and the last few struggling pioneer villages were wiped out.

Today, the wild forces have swallowed all traces of civilization. Between the ruined settlements and primeval forests, only beasts and monsters remain.

Though magic has calmed and the dark magical tide is confined to the ruins of Gondor, humanity seems content with its current borders. Coupled with the decline of the Cecil family in the south, the Ansu Kingdom has no plans to reclaim this land.

The caravan moved silently along the rugged, uneven road. Though Gawain’s encouragement helped Hetty, others couldn’t help but feel uneasy. No one knew what this march into the wilderness would bring—even if they were led by the great pioneer from seven centuries ago. Especially for the craftsmen drawn from commoners and serfs, it wasn’t so much a sense of honor driving them as habitual obedience to their lord and numb acceptance of their lives.

They traveled along the riverbank for three days before stopping beside an open plain.

This clearing lay right next to the Dark Mountains, squeezed between the river and the mountain range. Here, the tributary of the Whitewater River widened slightly, its current slowing as it flowed gently along the northern edge of the Dark Mountains, eventually heading east into the Typhon Empire.

Facing south and looking up, the imposing and awe-inspiring Dark Mountains loomed.

Gawain climbed onto a large stone by the riverbank, surveying the surroundings and comparing them with the satellite view in his mind. To the west of the plain was a forest of sturdy black spruce and giant trees—valuable timber for the early days of the territory. To the east, the mountains jutted out more sharply. If his memory of Gawain Cecil was correct, iron ore deposits lay there.

Besides iron, there were other mineral resources nearby—the Dark Mountains were a treasure trove.

Though Gawain Cecil and King Charles I’s expedition hadn’t stayed in the Dark Mountains, they had conducted basic surveys along the way. Gawain knew well the mineral veins discovered but never exploited on the pioneer route.

Since the Ansu royal family had abandoned these lands, he was happy to claim them.

After studying the terrain, Gawain jumped down and looked at Hetty. “Set up camp here. Pitch all the tents we brought. Have the soldiers guard the lumberjacks going into the forest to gather wood—but don’t let them go too deep to avoid wild beast attacks. Don’t worry about monsters; the Dark Mountains aren’t as scary as you think. The dark magical tide’s influence has long since faded. You’d have to get close to a magic hotspot to encounter monsters. Aside from the woodcutters, keep the rest of the laborers here to help build the camp. Rebecca, Byron, Amber—you three come with me.”

Hetty hesitated. “Ancestor, are you going to—”

“Take back what’s rightfully mine.”

(End of chapter)