Chapter 599: Face to Face

The peak base of the Typhon Empire bore a starkly different style from the one built by the Cecils. From Gawain’s perspective, if the Cecil peak base embodied the power of magitechnology—a fusion of steel, machinery, crystals, and magic—then the Typhon base was a costly magical marvel. This sprawling complex, noticeably larger than the Cecil base, was over eighty percent crafted by mages who had literally “shaped” the stone and structures with their own hands.

The Typhons opened their gates and sent out knights to escort their guests. Soldiers clad in black standard-issue armor watched with a mix of curiosity and caution as the convoy of steel monstrosities rolled into the base. Gawain sat quietly in the back seat of the lead vehicle, observing everything through the window. He saw rows of stone houses neatly aligned along a central axis, several spired towers scattered throughout the complex, and the faintly shimmering “Mage’s Eye” hovering atop one of the towers. Soldiers in polished armor stood vigilantly on the perimeter watchtowers, eyes sharp for any sign of movement in the wasteland beyond.

Orderly, disciplined, and impressive.

As he observed and pondered, the convoy, led by several Typhon knights, arrived before a stone fortress also magically shaped. Gawain noticed a stern-looking middle-aged man with thick black hair standing nearby, surrounded by knights. The man wore a seemingly ordinary black cloak, but it was actually made from the hide of some high-level magical beast. Beneath it, he donned a dark blue coat adorned with gold chains and ribbons. His gaze was fixed on the approaching steel vehicles, but Gawain could detect no emotion in the deep, restrained eyes of the Typhon emperor.

Amber, sitting beside him in the back, leaned over and whispered, “He’s a bit shorter than I expected.”

Gawain replied casually, “That’s because you’ve spent too much time next to me.”

At that moment, several magitechnical vehicles came to a simultaneous halt before Rosetta Augustus. Each vehicle’s side or rear door opened in unison, and attendants and soldiers in blue uniforms or white light armor disembarked with surprising discipline and speed. In the blink of an eye, they formed a guard of honor flanking the convoy. Then, an attendant opened the door of the first vehicle, and Gawain Cecil, along with his guards, stepped out.

Rosetta Augustus watched silently and solemnly, his eyebrows twitching ever so slightly.

The Duke of Ansu had neither brought a full army nor arrived as a legendary warrior leading a small elite force. Yet he still radiated… a certain kind of power—and it was effective.

Pulling his gaze away from the magical vehicles, the Typhon emperor stepped forward to meet the disembarked Gawain. A difficult smile slowly formed on his face. “It is an honor to meet a legendary hero such as yourself. Welcome to the Typhon camp—it has been prepared for your arrival.”

“The honor is mine,” Gawain said, extending his hand to Rosetta Augustus. This simple, widely recognized gesture dated back to the Age of Exploration and was still commonly used. “This is an impressive camp. I can see the courage and perseverance it embodies.”

Amber stood just behind Gawain, bored enough to want to roll her eyes at the formalities between high-ranking figures, but she dared not risk it—knowing Gawain would surely scold her if she did. Just then, she suddenly felt a gaze fixed on her.

Following the feeling, she spotted a tall female knight standing not far behind Rosetta Augustus. The young woman had shoulder-length gray hair and a decent figure and face, but her eyes were cold, almost hostile.

Amber blinked, and relevant information immediately surfaced in her mind.

This had to be the current “Wolf General” of the Typhon Empire, Andersa Wendel. Apparently, due to her father’s disappearance in the Ansu-controlled region, she harbored hostility toward Ansu.

Amber thought for a moment, decided to stir the pot, and boldly locked eyes with Andersa.

After a moment, the young Wolf General awkwardly averted her gaze.

She had never encountered such an uncultured noble—so inexperienced that she lost the silent battle of eye contact—and couldn’t help but wonder: Are all Ansu people this uncivilized?

Amber, pleased with this small victory, muttered quietly, “Yeah—”

This secret standoff between the Cecil intelligence chief and the Typhon Wolf General went unnoticed by anyone else. Gawain’s attention remained almost entirely on observing the Typhon emperor and trying to gauge his character. After some polite but unproductive small talk, Gawain and his companions—Amber, Sonia, and others—were led into Rosetta’s temporary palace.

A modest feast awaited them—far from lavish, but a rare luxury in this wasteland.

Plants could not be cultivated here, and the rampant monsters were hardly suitable as food. Like the Cecil camp, the Typhon base relied entirely on supply lines from the rear. Under such harsh conditions, even what Rosetta Augustus could offer was limited. Yet no one truly cared about the feast itself… at least, no one except Amber.

After sending Amber off to forage on her own, Gawain naturally approached Rosetta Augustus with a wine glass in hand. Those around them instinctively stepped back, maintaining their guard but giving the duke and emperor space to converse.

“I hope you don’t mind our humble hospitality,” Rosetta said with a faint, almost imperceptible smile. “Our supplies are hard to come by.”

“We face the same challenges,” Gawain replied calmly. “I understand well the harsh environment on the edge of the wasteland. In fact, the so-called ‘difficulties’ we face here today would have been unimaginable luxuries seven centuries ago. At least now, we can sit safely in a camp and share a drink.”

He gently swirled the golden wine glass, the dark red liquid shimmering enticingly.

“That is why we must cherish this hard-won safety and prosperity,” Rosetta raised his glass slightly. “To you, and to the pioneers who laid the foundation seven hundred years ago.”

Gawain accepted the toast with quiet dignity. Rosetta continued, “We are here today to ensure that this safety endures, aren’t we?”

“Of course,” Gawain said, watching Rosetta’s every subtle expression. “But not everyone wishes for this safety to last. Some deranged individuals actively seek to destroy the protective barriers that allow us to survive. What is your view on this?”

“I have heard about the damage found in the Sentinel Tower… the threat posed by cultists is alarming,” Rosetta said gravely, his expression serious. “Messenger Sonia has also expressed your concerns. Frankly, I believe those concerns are justified, and we must heighten our vigilance against these cultists. I have already dispatched the Shadow Master to inspect the nearby Sentinel Tower, but no signs of corruption were found. Next, I will order a nationwide search for cultist activity—they operate not only in Ansu but also in northern and western Typhon.”

“Eradicating these dark sects requires all of us working together, just as repairing the Great Wall demands the united effort of all human nations,” Gawain said, clearly moved by Rosetta’s sincere and straightforward attitude. “The peace and stability of these seven centuries were built on the shared sacrifices of the original pioneers. Speaking as someone who respects lineage—I am glad to see your generation still uniting in the face of crisis. Even with some conflicts and disputes, when confronted with a disaster threatening all humanity, rational people can set aside prejudice and division.”

He paused briefly, not giving Rosetta time to respond, then continued, “Seeing the nations come together to repair the Great Wall reminds me of those old days… and of comrades who fought alongside me. I still remember Roland Augustus… he always wore a stern face and told outdated jokes. He once fretted over how to improve his sense of humor and even asked Charlie for advice…”

For someone resurrected from seven centuries ago, holding a wine glass and chatting about ancestors and their old jokes was probably the most awkward and surreal thing in the world. Even the great Emperor Rosetta had to lower his head respectfully and listen seriously, unwilling to interrupt.

Seeing this, Gawain naturally shifted the topic: “And then there was Beltira… the most powerful druid I ever knew. Countless people were healed by her back then…”

Rosetta’s face remained calm, serious, and reserved.

He simply nodded slowly and said, “Hearing stories about your ancestors from you is a novel experience… They are no longer mere names in history books but living, breathing people.”

“Of course, they were flesh and blood—we are all mortal,” Gawain said slowly, quietly watching Rosetta’s eyes. “I’ve heard you still haven’t found Beltira Augustus’s remains… is that true?”

“I should feel ashamed,” Rosetta said solemnly. “Our family saint, Beltira, disappeared during the pilgrimage to the Ancestor’s Peak. Her relics remain lost to this day. Seven centuries have passed… I fear the hope of recovering her is slim.”

Gawain studied Rosetta silently for two seconds before withdrawing his gaze.

He chose not to mention the possibility that Beltira, like most druids near the Ancestor’s Peak at the time, might have fallen into darkness. That would have crossed the line from cautious probing to outright provocation and offense. Though his ancestral status gave him some leeway, he preferred not to spoil the atmosphere too soon.

If Rosetta showed no special reaction to the name “Beltira Augustus,” then even further probing would likely be met with calm composure.

Afterward, Gawain deliberately steered the conversation toward lighter, more natural topics, sampling the food and wine while gradually discussing customs and legends from Ansu and Typhon.

The atmosphere relaxed as they spoke, both tacitly avoiding any mention of the near-war three years ago or the lingering tensions between their nations—as if all conflicts and frictions simply did not exist, as if Rosetta was unaware and Gawain indifferent.

A scholar from seven centuries ago, a modern-day emperor, a storyteller recounting the customs and landscapes of the Great Expansion era, and another narrating the evolution of contemporary society—they chatted away like old friends, their conversation seemingly endless. Watching this, Amber, who had just finished foraging and was happily chewing on a chicken bone, wandered by in stunned silence.

The half-elf lady paused, whispering softly, “Old fox…”

Then she heard Gawain pick up on a trade-related topic and say, “…Actually, we could easily expand our cooperation beyond just repairing the barrier. For example, trade—we could exchange goods and resources.”

Amber blinked, the chicken bone crunching loudly between her teeth.

Another poor soul was about to fall into the trap.

(End of chapter)