Chapter 576: The Secret Letter

After the “Pathfinder” engineering team entered the Black Forest, the envoys representing the Ansu royal family and the Eastern Territories finally arrived at Cecil City.

At the Baishui River Wharf Plaza, the newly built inland fast passenger ship, the Wavebreaker, smoothly docked alongside the pier under the guidance of the towing beam. Once the gangplank extended firmly from the ship’s side to the solid concrete dock, Cohen Loren was the first to step down.

He glanced back and saw the massive watercraft—a strange hybrid of steel and wood, powered by some magical mechanism—now silent. The banner of the Cecil family fluttered in the breeze above the bow. Half of the envoys following him off the ship staggered unsteadily.

To be honest, despite the so-called “magitek ship” sailing quite steadily, many were clearly seasick. Watching those unsteady gentlemen, Cohen knew that for a while, they wouldn’t be able to rely on their famed eloquence to outwit the Cecils.

He wasn’t sure if this was a deliberate move by the Duke of the Southern Territories.

On the dock, Gawain had chosen to personally welcome these envoys from the North, representing the royal family and the Eastern Territories.

He stood with several officials from the Administration Office at the end of the honor guard and red carpet, watching the royal knight commander’s deputy—bearing the Lorent name—approach with a faint smile.

“Greetings to you, great Protector of the Southern Territories, founder of the Kingdom,” Cohen Loren said, placing a hand over his chest and bowing slightly. “I come before you by the command of the Morn bloodline—the Kingdom needs your strength.”

Gawain nodded. This deputy commander, sharing a name with a young mage researcher in his domain, spoke smoothly and cautiously. He used the title “Morn bloodline” instead of “royal family,” clearly referring simultaneously to the two “Morn princes” of the capital and the Eastern Territories.

It was probably this tact and caution that earned him the role of leader of this unusual envoy group.

Nominally, this envoy represented the Ansu royal family, but in reality, only half came from Saint Sunir; the other half were representatives of the Eastern Territories. They didn’t necessarily hold official positions within the group but symbolized their respective factions. Forming such a mixed envoy was likely a condition of the temporary truce between the royal family and the East. Yet, this hybrid group was incapable of fulfilling true diplomatic duties.

Cohen Loren, a blood member of the Lorent family from the East, had long ago renounced his family’s inheritance rights for the sake of stability and became a royal noble. This special “royal noble” had probably lived awkwardly for some time, but now that the civil war had paused and both sides needed a qualified representative to negotiate with the South, he had found a new purpose.

Gawain didn’t call him out on it but went along with the conversation. “I have already received the letter brought by the elven messenger. Serving this country is my duty.”

After this polite remark, he appraised Cohen Loren from head to toe. “Deputy Commander, this should be our second meeting.”

“Yes, the last time was two years ago when I served as Princess Veronica’s guard,” Cohen nodded, admiring the bustling scene around the wharf plaza. “I must admit, the changes here are astonishing. Even seeing it with my own eyes, I barely recognize it.”

It seemed everyone who had visited the South before always expressed the same amazement upon returning. Gawain was used to it by now. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, he followed custom and led the envoys to the Autumn Palace, the designated guest reception hall. Then came the customary welcome banquet.

The banquet was modest. Many envoys still seasick had little appetite for the fine food and wine, and the rest, weary from travel, preferred rest. So after a brief formal toast, the event ended. Those who mainly served as “faction backdrops” were escorted away to rest, while Cohen Loren, bearing the mission, requested a private meeting with Gawain as soon as the banquet concluded.

In the lounge beside the Autumn Palace’s banquet hall, Cohen sat on a dark red leather sofa, Gawain opposite him.

Amber, assigned as Gawain’s “surface guard,” stood obediently behind his chair, her expression serious but her mind seemingly elsewhere.

After some formal small talk, Cohen got down to business. “Your Grace, over half of the supplies indicated by the elves have already been prepared and will soon arrive in the South, including materials for the engineering teams and the first batch of magitek components. How is your preparation progressing?”

Gawain smiled. “While you were busy debating who should be sent, my people have already begun building a road through the Black Forest.”

“…At this point, we admit the shortsightedness and prejudice of the capital’s nobles. Your caution toward the wasteland is justified,” Cohen said, detecting the sarcasm in Gawain’s tone but accepting it calmly. “We know the Kingdom faces serious problems now—problems that may have disappointed you. But please believe, most nobles hope the situation will improve.”

Gawain studied Cohen Loren quietly for a moment, then suddenly asked, “Who exactly do you speak for? Silverhold? Or the East?”

Meeting Gawain’s gaze, Cohen replied, “…I represent everyone who wishes for Ansu’s peace and prosperity.”

“That’s an empty phrase.”

After a brief silence, Cohen suddenly said, “Your Grace, I have some private matters to discuss. Please excuse the others.”

Gawain’s expression remained calm, but Amber, standing behind him, couldn’t help but interject, “Hey, that’s a bit much. This is—”

“It’s fine,” Gawain raised a hand, cutting her off. “Everyone else, please leave. I’m curious what the deputy commander wants to say.”

Amber pouted but waved to the nearby attendants and guards, then left with the others.

Two seconds later, she stealthily slipped back in, standing beside Gawain and making faces at him.

Gawain ignored the half-elf’s antics. Cohen Loren, unaware of Amber’s invisible presence, confirmed the room was empty before reaching into his coat to pull out a letter sealed with a magical sigil.

“Forgive my slight deception—I have no private words. I’m here to deliver this letter to you.”

“A letter?” Gawain was genuinely surprised. Curious, he took the letter, wondering who had sent a secret message—one evidently kept from the entire envoy. Until this moment, only Cohen Loren himself had known of its existence. “The royal seal…”

Stamped on the envelope was the sword-and-shield emblem of the Ansu royal family.

Gawain looked questioningly at Cohen, who bowed slightly. “Greetings from the throne of Silverhold.”

Currently, the throne of Silverhold was occupied by the nominal crown prince of Ansu, Wales Morn.

This was interesting.

Gawain composed himself, dispelled the magical seal on the envelope, and unfolded three neatly folded sheets of paper. Amber immediately turned her head exaggeratedly to the side, signaling she wouldn’t peek.

“Greetings, founder of the Kingdom. I speak to you as the heir of the Morn bloodline, and this should be our first conversation—regrettably separated by a letter and half a kingdom. I must choose plain and direct language to convey my attitude and true intentions as clearly as possible.

“I am aware of the existence of the Mithril Oathstone.

“I am aware of your claim to succession.”

The letter’s opening startled Gawain.

He masked his surprise with a calm expression and glanced at Cohen Loren, whose face remained unreadable. It was impossible to tell if the deputy commander knew the letter’s contents.

Gawain steadied himself and continued reading.

Wales Morn did not dwell on the special “emergency succession rights” of Gawain and the other first-generation dukes. Instead, he detailed the internal noble situation within the kingdom—the tangled relationships among the capital’s nobles, the mutual checks, spying, balances, and conflicts among the various fiefdoms.

Two of the three pages were devoted to this. Within those pages, Wales almost explicitly described the characteristics of all the kingdom’s powerful nobles and even outlined their approximate genealogies.

Even the most skilled heraldry experts, the most learned noble historians, or the most seasoned court advisors would struggle to fully grasp such complexity, let alone distill it into a coherent system and condense it into two pages. This required not only exceptional intelligence but long-term study, observation, and a rare talent for extracting and assembling key information from vast data.

Gawain took a slow breath. Wales Morn was not the mediocre royal rumored by many.

He reached the letter’s end.

“…Duke Cecil, you must have realized that the kingdom you and your comrades founded seven centuries ago has undergone long years of change. Like a magnificent city built on a barren plain, the once simple, honest, and upright pioneers’ bloodline has evolved into a vast and complex entity…

“It is like Silverhold itself—grand and splendid, yet beneath its dome lie countless dark tunnels and sordid corners. Like a tangled ball of thread, trying to unravel even a single straight strand is nearly impossible.

“My brother—you know whom I mean—saw this clearly early on. He tried to unravel or destroy this tangle, to sweep away the kingdom’s seven centuries of filth. For this, he took great risks.

“Unfortunately, like me, he is part of this tangle.

“Fortunately, you stand outside it.

“Wales Morn, descendant of Charles Morn, salutes you once again.”

Gawain read every word carefully. At the bottom of the letter, a line was written in a special font:

“Burn after reading.”

As his eyes passed over those words, the three pages suddenly burst into flames.

Gawain watched quietly as the letter burned to ash, which was then completely broken down into basic elements by the arcane flames—impossible even for the finest arcanists to restore. Only then did he look back at Cohen Loren.

“You swear loyalty to Wales Morn.”

“The prince left Silverhold twenty years ago, but a small number of royal nobles remain loyal to him.”

“Do you know what he said in the letter?”

“I don’t know. A knight would never spy on their lord’s letters.”

Gawain regarded the deputy commander of the knights quietly for a moment, then withdrew his gaze and said calmly, “When you return, you may report back. Just tell them I am aware.”

Korn Loren stood and gave the most proper knightly bow. “Yes, sir.”

(End of chapter)