Chapter 530: The Day of Departure
“Is that all she told you?”
Inside the lord’s manor, Gawain looked at Light with curiosity.
“Yes,” Light nodded. “She asked me about the doctrines of the New Church. Throughout the conversation, she showed no excitement, no objection, and of course, no support. Honestly, I couldn’t tell what her purpose was.”
Gawain stroked his chin and shook his head slightly. “Her intentions are always deeply hidden.”
Emily floated nearby, idly fiddling with the pen holder on Gawain’s desk. Suddenly, she turned her head and said, “That sister was surrounded by light.”
Emily had a strong affinity for holy light, even more so after becoming a spirit being. Gawain didn’t ignore the little girl’s casual remark. “What kind of light? Was it the same holy light as yours?”
Emily tilted her head, thinking, then shook it. “Not quite. Uncle, your light is pure white, but the light around her was pale gold.”
Gawain frowned. “Pale golden holy light…”
His mind immediately went back to the report Kamail had given him earlier.
As a former senior researcher on the Rebellion Project who had firsthand contact with divine power, Kamail had sensed something unusual about the “Saint Princess.” He suspected Veronica was either connected to the gods or had been to the divine realm…
Of course, “been to the divine realm” didn’t mean physically stepping into the godly kingdom as a mortal. This involved a concept in religious studies: scholars believe the gods’ realm and the mortal world are not directly connected. There are multiple layers of barriers beyond mortal comprehension. Under normal circumstances, no mortal can reach the divine kingdom. But on certain special levels, the divine realm’s power radiates and spreads near the mortal world, allowing parts of mortal existence—like the soul’s perception, dreams, or extrasensory senses—to come into contact with these divine fields.
In most cases, such contact brings terrible consequences. The mortal mind cannot withstand the overwhelming influx of divine information. Those who touch it are almost instantly swallowed by endless illusions and memories, and their physical bodies become warped into indescribable forms. The few who survive and return bring back knowledge about the gods.
These rare “contacts” have happened more than once in history. Those fortunate enough to return with their sanity intact often become saints and prophets in various religious traditions.
As far as Gawain knew, the Holy Light Church—the strongest among the orthodox sects—had many special divine grace rituals. Some of these rituals involved “contacting the divine realm,” but actually stepping into the divine kingdom and returning safely was extremely rare. These rituals were more like “catalysts,” temporarily amplifying a person’s spiritual talent through holy artifacts, allowing them to hear faint messages from the divine realm.
Veronica, as the “Living Saint” of the Holy Light Church, had likely undergone such a ritual.
Did she successfully contact the true divine realm during the ceremony? Did she see “that world”?
If so, then Veronica must be the most devout follower of the Holy Light God. Even if she wasn’t before, after entering “that world” and facing the Holy Light God, she certainly would be.
But why would such an utterly devout believer calmly listen to Light’s heretical New Church teachings?
“She said she wanted to witness the holy light of this land with her own eyes,” Gawain said slowly, watching Emily dart around the desk, the holy light emanating from her casting a faint glow over the entire surface. “If that’s her way of bearing witness… then it’s more surprising than I expected.”
He then turned to Amber, standing behind him. “What has Veronica been doing these days?”
“Mostly just wandering around the territory—with attendants assigned to accompany her at all times. She bought quite a few souvenirs, some newspapers, and printed books—like any ordinary tourist visiting the city. The rest of the time, she stayed at the Autumn Palace, reading or praying. Visiting the church and meeting Light was probably her only special action. Of course, it’s possible she used more advanced disguise magic to move secretly elsewhere, but we have strict surveillance over all key departments. You and Kamail are personally stationed in the administrative and research areas, so that’s unlikely.”
Gawain rubbed his chin. “Shopping, sightseeing, reading, praying… that’s not what I expected at all.”
The Saint Princess’s attitude and actions were shrouded in mystery. Gawain had made extensive preparations for the Holy Light Church’s envoy’s visit—from attempts to win her over or corrupt her, to coercion, deception, confrontation, and sowing discord. He had considered every possibility—except that she would just be a casual shopper. And after all these days, Veronica hadn’t sought him out again, nor mentioned anything about the schism between the northern and southern churches, doctrinal orthodoxy, or rebuilding the southern diocese. It left Gawain feeling like he’d punched cotton—prepared for a fight but met with softness.
Yet the Saint Princess simply went about her “normal” activities: shopping, buying things, accompanied by Gawain’s assigned attendants, doing everything a normal visitor would do. This continued until Gawain and Victoria finalized all trade details and the royal envoy from the capital prepared to depart.
On the 40th day of the Misty Moon, it was time to return to the capital.
No matter how many questions Victoria still had about the southern territory, no matter what Veronica’s true intentions were as an envoy from the northern church, they all had to return.
At the farewell banquet in the lord’s manor, Duchess Victoria approached Gawain. The northern ruler bowed slightly, her voice calm. “Thank you for your hospitality these past days. This journey to the south has been memorable—what I’ve seen here has far exceeded my expectations.”
Gawain smiled. “You could have stayed longer. It’s snowing again up north; traveling won’t be easy.”
“The Wild family never fears wind or snow,” Victoria said lightly. “Besides, I must return to Saint Suniel soon to oversee affairs and complete our trade. Winter will end eventually, but we need to arm our warriors before the Eastern rebels strike again.”
“Good. I’ll have the military supplies loaded onto ships and sent to the Dorgon River mouth near Rockfort before then,” Gawain nodded, taking a glass of red wine from a servant’s tray and raising it to Victoria. “This is a good start.”
“Your support is vital to the kingdom’s army. This kingdom will get better,” the duchess raised her glass, gently clinking it against Gawain’s. “But have you really considered visiting Saint Suniel? The Cecil family has returned to the kingdom’s center of power. You deserve a seat at the Guardians’ council table.”
It was clear the duchess was sincerely inviting him. But Gawain only smiled faintly and shook his head. “Compared to attending your meetings in the capital and discussing things I don’t understand, I have more important matters here.”
Victoria was about to say more but noticed where Gawain’s gaze was fixed: due south, toward the Dark Mountains.
Her expression grew serious. “You’re still worried about the wasteland?”
“I’ve never been at ease. Don’t think it will remain peaceful just because it’s been quiet for seven hundred years,” Gawain looked into Victoria’s eyes. “Victoria, I ask you now as an equal Guardian Duke, not as an elder: do you really believe that once the civil war ends, once Wales ascends the throne, the nobles of Ansu can hold back Typhon from the east and the wasteland from the south?”
Victoria wanted to answer yes, but before the words left her mouth, she fell silent.
During her days with the Cecils, she had observed much and confirmed one thing:
Duke Gawain Cecil was preparing—for a war, or many wars.
He had already taken the entire southern territory. His army could easily crush a coalition of over forty nobles. Yet he hadn’t stopped. He was building a steel monster at Rockfort, but he invested even more effort in the Dark Mountains. The Ansu civil war had dragged countless nobles into the mire, but for this resurrected founding ancestor, the civil war was irrelevant—his enemy was a far greater threat.
If the capital’s nobles saw this, they’d probably think the founding duke was paranoid, trapped in the battlefield of seven centuries ago, blindly and obsessively waging war, even pushing the young duchy to the brink of financial collapse. But after seeing the records of two Cecil defensive battles and hearing eyewitness accounts, Victoria wouldn’t jump to such rash conclusions.
And even if the Gondor Wasteland was an intangible, unseen threat, what about Typhon, right at their doorstep?
The Ansu people had been threatened by that empire’s blade more than once.
“The nobles of Ansu have many problems,” the duchess finally broke the silence, meeting Gawain’s gaze with determination. “But even if we need to reform them, first we need a united Ansu.”
“…Not the best answer, but worthy of your title,” Gawain exhaled, then casually said, “By the way, I have a favor to ask. Don’t worry, it’s not difficult.”
“Please, go ahead.”
Gawain nodded. “I have a group of craftsmen and mages hired from the capital who want to bring their families here—but I heard the capital is under lockdown.”
He hadn’t forgotten his promise to Cohen—the young mage from the capital who asked to bring his family to Cecil before activating the Holy Light Inversion Array. Gawain had kept it in mind, but if he’d mentioned it to Victoria earlier, it would have raised unnecessary suspicions. Now, after discussing the “big business,” it seemed less abrupt.
“That’s no problem,” Victoria said without hesitation. “Give me the list, and I’ll personally issue their travel permits.”
Victoria left. Watching the duchess’s slightly thin and solitary figure, Gawain sighed softly.
“Reform them… I never intended to reform them at all.”
A warm, gentle presence approached. Gawain turned to see Veronica Morn, the Saint Princess, wearing a serene smile.
“You’re leaving today, too,” Gawain nodded to the Saint Princess. “Anything you want to say?”
“I am merely the eyes sent by the church. My mission is to see, not to speak.”
“Just that?” Gawain raised an eyebrow, his tone turning serious. “Honestly, as an envoy of the Holy Light Church, you don’t seem very diligent. Are you really here because you care about the destruction of the southern church and the change of power in Luan City?”
Veronica said nothing. She simply gazed quietly into Gawain’s eyes, her look deep and serene, like a bottomless spring. In a fleeting, almost dizzying moment, Gawain felt as if he wasn’t meeting a pair of human eyes at all—those eyes seemed merely a lens, a lifeless instrument observing the world. The true soul was hidden deeper, watching him through that medium.
“What happened in Luan City was an unfortunate accident,” she said. “The cathedral clergy lost their way, abandoning the Lord’s teachings, and were driven out by the people. Now, the southern realm’s citizens have chosen an order they recognize. Under Duke Cecil’s guidance, a new order has been established. The Luan Cathedral has been restored, and the Holy Light still shines upon this land—the southern realm remains at peace.”
When Veronica finished, Gawain frowned in disbelief. “Are you serious?”
She smiled faintly. “Isn’t that the ‘truth’ everyone in the south accepts?”
“What’s in it for you?” Gawain asked bluntly. “Is this for your faith?”
Veronica was silent for a moment, then the unchanging smile on her face faded away. “Yes. It is for my faith.”
They sat in silence for a long while before Gawain finally broke it. “Will the northern church accept all this?”
“They will—because this civil war is far from over. On the Plains of the Holy Spirit, there’s a vortex even greater than the one in the south.”
(End of chapter)