Chapter 418: The Road to Revenge

Though the Eversleepers were a cult that sent chills down people’s spines, the mental network they had built truly amazed Gawain. It was hard for him to imagine how, in a world still largely stuck in a medieval level of development, a group of cultists could conceive of creating such a psychic network—and within it, a virtual world. In fact, it wasn’t just the mental network; so many things about this world seemed unbelievable to Gawain. At its foundation, it remained dark and backward, almost medieval in nature, yet at the top, it was as advanced as a near-future Earth. Two completely opposite, contradictory realities coexisted in one world. Although he knew this was due to the unique development of magical technology and the lingering aftershocks of the magical storms centuries ago, Gawain couldn’t help but marvel at it from time to time.

Just now, he had seen Patty in the mental network after several days apart. Though they were separated by hundreds of kilometers in the real world, here they could talk face to face. Meanwhile, in the outside world, most ordinary people might never hear about events happening even in the next city over in their entire lifetime.

Thinking about this was almost unbearable for Gawain. Perhaps the supernaturals of this world had grown used to it—used to enjoying the conveniences of magical technology while watching the struggles of commoners and the poor below. But the more he encountered these realities, the harder it was for him to accept.

Fortunately, a crucial step in magical network communication had already been taken.

As these thoughts crossed his mind, Patty, who was resting by a flowerbed, finally spotted “Uncle Cecil” not far away. The little girl was sitting quietly by herself today, not running around as usual—a rare sight. She jumped up from the bench and waved her arms energetically. “Uncle! Uncle! I’m here!”

Gawain had already confirmed there was no sign of Selina Gelph nearby, so when he heard Patty calling, he smiled and approached her. Curious, he glanced at the girl and asked, “All alone today?”

“Selina sister’s been sick these past few days, so she hasn’t come,” Patty pouted, clearly a bit upset. “And you, Uncle, haven’t shown up for several days either…”

“Uncle’s usually very busy,” Gawain said with a smile, gently ruffling her hair. But a flicker of doubt crossed his mind: Selina Gelph ‘sick’? Was she really ill? Or were the Eversleepers up to some big project again? Or had something else happened?

Of course, he couldn’t get answers to these questions from little Patty. He simply filed the doubts away for now and chatted casually with her.

Unsurprisingly, he soon heard news about the current state of the Grant lands—

“Mom went out, taking lots of knights with her,” Patty said unhappily. “People in the castle say there’s a war outside, but they think I’m just a kid and don’t want to tell me much… Only the maid told me that Mom will definitely come back.”

“Of course, if you trust the maid, your mother will surely come home,” Gawain said with a smile, stroking the girl’s hair.

He already knew where Lady Ropeni Grant was.

The lady had likely gathered the scattered remnants of the northern nobles and was leading them toward the Rockfort Fortress on the border of the Holy Spirit Plains. She was accompanied by her loyal guards, trained over the past decade, and dozens of well-equipped Cecil soldiers. She was walking the path of revenge, moving forward relentlessly, unafraid of any pain or hardship.

The hatred she had borne and accumulated over ten years was not something easily released. The bombardment at Shattered Stone Ridge was, for Gawain, the beginning of reclaiming the southern lands; for Lady Ropeni Grant, it was the starting point of her vengeance. Honestly, Gawain had never imagined that the seemingly fragile lady could come this far—when she sent the secret report saying she would continue to lead those nobles to their doom, even he was startled.

But he knew it was best to let Ropeni handle it. No one could do it better or more wholeheartedly than she.

His role was simply to fulfill his promises—to destroy the last noble resistance when the time was right, and in the process, protect the Grant lands and her daughter.

Looking at little Patty swinging her legs beside him, he casually asked, “Are you scared with your mother away?”

“No!” Patty lifted her chin proudly. “I’m very brave! And the maid stays with me at night… plus the new maids and guards in the castle—they tell me stories.”

“New maids and guards, huh?” Gawain replied casually, feeling somewhat reassured.

Those so-called “maids and guards” were actually well-trained steel rangers and intelligence operatives who had entered Grant Castle through Lady Ropeni’s channels before the war began. Their mission was to protect the castle and her daughter while Lady Ropeni was away—and to monitor the situation in the Grant lands.

Gawain trusted Lady Ropeni deeply. He believed that even for revenge, she would not betray the alliance they had made. But he couldn’t trust the loyalty of other nobles in this era—especially in the Grant lands, where rebellion had already occurred. Lady Ropeni herself clearly understood this.

No one could guarantee how long the Grant lands would remain stable with the lady gone and “missing.” According to the intelligence Gawain had, chaos had already broken out within a week after news of the noble coalition’s crushing defeat in Carol, Peibo, and Konsko spread. He could not allow the Grant lands to fall into disorder.

Gazing at Patty, Gawain fell into thought.

By now, Lady Ropeni should have arrived or be close to arriving at Rockfort Fortress. According to their agreed schedule, it was time for him to send people to “take over” the Grant lands. After all, if the Cecil army ignored the Grant lands after such a great victory, it would raise suspicion.

…

For over ten days, Carol and his companions had trekked through the wild, eating the coarsest food, wearing tattered clothes, struggling through mud and stones, always ready to fight off roaming wolves and bears. It had been a nightmare.

Not to mention the shadow of the Cecils and the terrifying magic that could explode with a sharp whistle at any moment—though these threats had lessened in the latter half of their flight, the memories of Shattered Stone Ridge and the escape still sent chills down Carol’s spine.

But every nightmare ends, and the long night eventually gives way to dawn.

After more than ten days on the run, the last remaining noble forces—perhaps the final proud bloodline of the southern lands, at least in their own eyes—finally reached the end of their journey.

Before them stood the majestic fortress on the northern border, at the edge of the Holy Spirit Plains.

When the towering walls of Rockfort Fortress came into view, Viscount Carol nearly wept. The wind cut across his cracked, weathered face like blades, but he could bear the pain now. He raised his arms and shouted to Viscount Konsko beside him, “Look! Rockfort Fortress! We’ve made it! We’re safe!”

“Thanks to the gods’ protection…” Konsko said excitedly, glancing at the resolute lady leading their group nearby. “And thanks to Lady Ropeni Grant… she saved us all!”

Viscount Mariolan couldn’t help but look toward Lady Ropeni Grant as well. Seeing her slender figure on horseback, the viscount whose lands bordered the Grant lands across a small river showed a fleeting expression of complexity.

She was truly a woman of iron will… indeed, iron will.

But that moment passed quickly, replaced by the overwhelming relief of having reached Rockfort Fortress safely.

Sir Mariland, commander of Rockfort Fortress and a knight lord loyal directly to the crown, stood atop the high walls, watching the surroundings with a wary eye.

Recent reports from the north and south had filled him with anxiety. He had heard of great upheaval in the royal court—though only partial and uncertain news—but it seemed a massive change was looming over the kingdom. More worrying was the south: the Cecil family, silent for a hundred years, was no longer dormant.

Merchants traveling north and south brought shocking news, one after another. First, over forty southern nobles had united to attack the Duke of Cecil. Then, not long after, word came that a seventy-thousand-strong noble coalition had been utterly destroyed by the Cecil Grant Mage Corps—though no one knew where this legendary “Grant Mage Corps” had come from.

When Sir Mariland first heard this, he refused to believe it. Seventy thousand troops? How many people were there in all of Cecil now?

That was seventy thousand nobles and knights! Even if they were seventy thousand pigs, it would be impossible for the Cecils to capture them all so quickly!

Yet what happened next deeply unsettled him, forcing him to consider that the merchants’ stories might be true. Since then, all communication with southern noble families had been cut off.

Remote nobles might go months without contact with Rockfort Fortress, but even the Carol family, just beyond a southern hill, had gone silent. That was not a good sign.

Sir Mariland paced the walls, restless, debating whether to send a knight squad south to investigate—or a messenger party under the pretense of visiting the Carol lands. But just as the thought crossed his mind, a soldier suddenly ran up to him.

“General! A large group is approaching the fortress!”

Sir Mariland, who insisted on being called “General” by his soldiers since taking command, frowned at the soldier’s anxious expression. “What’s the panic? A large group of what?”

“They look like beggars—but they claim to be southern nobles!”

Sir Mariland’s expression froze.

It seemed he no longer needed to send knights or messengers south.

(At dawn, the Extraordinary Book Club is holding a fan fiction contest with rewards! For details, please check the pinned post in the Book Club~~~)

(End of chapter)