Chapter 500: Two Visitors

The first rays of morning sunlight bathed the highest clock tower of Cecil City, casting the day’s initial golden glow over the city. As gears and levers whirred to life, powered by the arcane core, the mechanical clock struck out its clear, resonant chimes—

Ding—ding—ding—

With the clock’s ringing, Cecil City shook off the lethargy of sleep, awakening swiftly under the sun’s warm embrace.

Workers in their uniforms stepped out from brick and tile homes, streaming through the Gear Plaza and Lever Street in the industrial district, heading toward the Rune Foundry, the Mechanical Workshop, and other factories to relieve the night shift. Shopkeepers opened their doors one by one, removing wooden signs from their windows and striking copper rings hanging beneath the eaves to announce the start of business. Newsboys and couriers wove through the freshly swept streets, delivering the latest papers and letters to every doorstep amid the morning mist.

Along the bustling streets, breakfast vendors were already hard at work—having set out before dawn, they began their day’s most vital trade at neighborhood corners. Their calls and greetings mingled with the clock’s chimes, echoing throughout Cecil City like a contented, leisurely sigh from a city reborn at dawn.

Inside the lord’s manor dining hall, Gawain sat at his seat of honor, with Hetty to his right. The steward of Cecil, she sliced bread as she reported on recent developments in the territory. “…The news of Luan City’s liberation has been broadcast through the arcane network and printed in the papers. Following your instructions, besides covering the cause, process, and outcome, we emphasized how people from all walks of life—regardless of birth, status, or region—united as one. The response has been very positive. The phrase ‘We, the people of Cecil’ is already widely used.”

Gawain nodded slightly, pleased with the work of Gawain Orlando and Hetty.

The liberation of Luan City was momentous. It marked not only the complete retreat of the Holy Light Church’s influence in the southern lands but also the first time in two years that the new order he had been fostering truly reached the common folk. More importantly, it signaled the success of another plan:

Laying the foundation for a national identity, transforming the southern territory from a mere noble domain into a true nation.

During the Luan operation, tens of thousands from across the south stood united by a shared goal. They came from different social classes, regions, and families—once divided under various lords, strangers to one another, indifferent and disconnected. Yet for this common cause, they forged a collective strength—one that transcended birth, occupation, residence, and even personal faith. This phenomenon meant that these once scattered people had begun to form the basis of “Cecil citizenship.”

From this foundation, with ongoing guidance and education, the people of Cecil would eventually awaken as a community. They would share similar moral standards and customs, use a common script and language, celebrate the same festivals, and honor shared heroes. Proudly, they would call themselves “We, the people of Cecil,” and regard every inch of this land as rightfully theirs.

Based on Gawain’s experience, this sense of identity would cement the psychological groundwork for territorial unity. If nurtured properly, and with the Cecil family’s ancestral pioneering spirit, perhaps one day they could even claim, “When times are hard, disputes are set aside; when times are good, this land has always been ours…”

Well, that might be wishful thinking.

Still, even without such lofty hopes, awakening national and state consciousness is no easy feat. It takes many years. Though people on the streets now speak “We, the people of Cecil” with excitement and pride, it’s merely a temporary fervor born of the moment. Two or three years is far too short to build a lasting national belief. But as long as this momentum takes the first step, as long as Gawain governs wisely without major mistakes, and as long as the land continues to develop as a whole, the transformation of “the Cecil people” into a unified entity is only a matter of time.

“Also,” Hetty continued, “the Northern Rock Fortress has sent word. The Holy Spirit Plain dispatched a messenger to Commander Walderperich of the fortress with a letter from the royal family. It seems they’ve finally found time to pay attention to the south—the Northern Duchess Victoria Wilde wishes to visit personally. It’s said to be a ‘private’ visit. The letter is still en route, and the message came via arcane communication.”

Gawain paused mid-sip, a strange smile flickering across his face. “A northern duchess crossing half the kingdom to visit another border duke, right in the middle of a civil war… ‘private’ is the only way to describe it.”

“Do you intend to accept?” Hetty met his gaze. “Refusing the northern duchess might provoke the crown further, making them more wary and hostile toward the south. But if you agree… she’ll be entering Rock Fortress.”

“There’s nothing to refuse,” Gawain replied casually. “We’re just using Rock Fortress to keep northern troubles at bay, not sealing off the south entirely. That Wilde girl has inherited some qualities from her ancestors—I’m quite willing to have a talk with her.”

Hearing “inherited some qualities from her ancestors,” Hetty glanced subtly at Rebecca, seated on her other side. The young woman was fiercely battling a steak, wielding her knife and fork as if facing a mortal enemy. Hetty sighed quietly and returned her attention. “Very well, I’ll have Commander Walder respond to the messenger. But there’s one more matter… this one’s a bit more sensitive.”

“Hm?”

Hetty’s expression grew troubled. “The living saint of the Northern Holy Light Church, the Saintess Princess Veronica Morn… she’s also sent a letter, requesting to visit the south. Her timing almost coincides with Duchess Victoria Wilde’s visit.”

Amber, sitting across the table and struggling to spread butter evenly, suddenly looked up, eyes wide with surprise. “Coming to stir up trouble? Because we disrupted their plans in Luan City? They’re already knocking on our door so soon?”

In the past, Hetty would have been quite displeased with Amber’s blunt interruptions during serious discussions—perhaps even conjuring an ice shard to shatter a wall behind her. But since the Luan City incident, Hetty’s view of the seemingly unreliable half-elf had softened. Recognizing Amber’s abilities and role, she answered seriously, “The news of Luan City couldn’t have reached Saint Sunil so quickly—it’s beyond the range of typical communication spells, and there are no high-level casters in the Luan church capable of sending such messages back. Veronica Morn’s letter states this is just a normal visit…”

“Maybe detailed news can’t get through, but the Holy Light Church headquarters might have ways to monitor their regional branches,” Gawain said. “We should assume our opponents are clever and capable.”

Hetty asked Gawain’s opinion: “So… will you refuse the ‘Saintess Princess’?”

“No need,” Gawain said indifferently. “If she wants to visit, let her come. I have enough tolerance for that.”

“You’re not afraid she’ll cause trouble?” Amber blinked. “We really did mess up their plans…”

“The schism between the new and old Holy Light factions is a settled fact. The Luan City incident will inevitably reach church headquarters. The southern church’s disappearance—there’s no hiding that. Besides, I never intended to hide it,” Gawain said, tapping the table lightly. “I’m more curious how the northern church will react… If they actually raise a crusade to attack Rock Fortress, that’d be great—we’d save a lot on supplies.”

Gawain was joking, but Hetty shook her head seriously. “They probably don’t have the luxury. According to northern reports, the Holy Light Church has openly sided with the royal army in this civil war. The crusaders are currently fighting fiercely alongside the royal forces on the eastern Holy Spirit Plain against the eastern rebels.”

Rebecca, who had been locked in battle with her food, finally caught a few words and looked up in surprise, her eyes wide and innocent. “Wait, they’re still fighting? The eastern army and the royal forces are still at it?”

At this, everyone at the table stared at her in stunned silence. Gawain looked at Rebecca’s simple, wide-eyed expression and, after a long pause, whispered to Hetty, “Is this child still half asleep?”

Hetty wiped cold sweat from her brow. “…She’s been busy with experiments and probably hasn’t been following the outside situation.”

Realizing her mistake, Rebecca shrank back but couldn’t help saying, “How long has this been going on? With that time, we could’ve already taken the entire south—and kicked out the Holy Light Church too…”

“You can’t measure Ansu’s civil war by our standards,” Gawain said wearily, glancing at Rebecca. “But there’s no helping it—you’re young and haven’t seen what traditional noble warfare looks like.”

The civil war in Ansu dragged on, with royal and rebel forces locked in a prolonged stalemate on the eastern Holy Spirit Plain. Neither Prince Edmond’s chaos in the capital nor the Holy Light Church’s involvement had sped things up. Unless something unexpected happens, this war could last for years—an unavoidable reality.

Wars in this era were brutal and bloody but slow and drawn-out. The low killing efficiency of cold weapons and the sluggish pace of armies meant battles could stretch on endlessly, with long lulls between engagements. Two evenly matched cold-weapon armies would wear each other down bit by bit, and a single war could last for many years.

Especially this was an irreconcilable civil war, a conflict over the throne itself. As long as food and population held out, both sides would be trapped in the vortex, fighting until the kingdom’s strength was exhausted—unless one side willingly abandoned its claim.

Fast, decisive wars like the Cecil family’s use of magical artillery to obliterate enemy forces and fortresses in a single bombardment were practically nonexistent in this era.

“Then it’s settled,” Gawain said. “The northern duchess and the Holy Light Church’s ‘Saintess Princess’… Frost Moon is already halfway through. By the time they arrive, it’ll be Mist Moon—the winter in Cecil City will surely leave a strong impression.”

(End of chapter)