Chapter 646: A Conversation

The king’s banner had fallen, but this was only the beginning. Establishing a new order was no easy task. Before stability could be achieved, countless issues demanded attention. For Gawain, the only good news was that the resistance he faced had already crumbled for various reasons. Ansu had undergone a thorough purge in this disaster; what lay before him was a ruin waiting to be rebuilt—nothing more, nothing less.

Moreover, he had the backing of two guardian dukes and the remaining noble families of the capital—at least, their support was public and official.

The battles in the southern and eastern regions of Saint Suniel were not yet fully over. The mechanical troops and field fortresses had carved those areas into deadly no-go zones. Crystal cluster monsters wandering from the Holy Spirit Plains were like flies caught in a grinder, turning to ash as they crossed the blockade lines.

The fleet docked by the Gorgon River had completed its fire support mission. Aside from the Pioneer and several smaller gunships remaining on standby near Saint Suniel, two main battleships were already leading the rest of the fleet in retreat. They would return to patrol the Gorgon waterways, maintaining the blockade to prevent any stray crystal monsters from slipping into the western plains.

The armored cargo ships had also departed, but not for good. They would maintain the transport line between Saint Suniel and the southern plains for some time, ensuring the capital’s supply chain remained intact.

After the great war, Saint Suniel was severely short on supplies, especially medical resources. Without a timely restoration of essential goods, the city risked self-destruction after victory—a lesson history had taught more than once.

Upon entering the city, Gawain immediately ordered the opening of the Silver Fortress granaries, releasing food to the entire city. He dispatched numerous messengers to read public notices throughout the streets and sent the White Knights out to offer free medical treatment to citizens, calming the populace. He refrained from immediately locking down or raiding the now powerless nobles, knowing such actions would only breed panic and unrest. Instead, he replaced all city guards with his own soldiers, stationing them throughout the urban districts.

During this process, Amber mobilized the city’s intelligence operatives—agents who had long been rooted in Saint Suniel. Working in the shadows, they uncovered a large number of opportunistic criminals trying to profit from the chaos and continuously fed intelligence to the military. This allowed the officers responsible for maintaining order to quickly regain control.

Thanks to these effective measures, the atmosphere in Saint Suniel stabilized within a short time. Though tension lingered among the residents, normal life resumed, and the city’s functions began to recover. After all, the administrative mechanisms of traditional cities in this era were not overly complex. The Cecil Legion’s well-practiced wartime military governance was more than sufficient to restore order here.

Inside the Silver Fortress, in a study adorned with dark blue carpets, luxurious bookshelves, and exquisite silver candelabras, Gawain stood by the crystal window, gazing out over the open grounds before the castle—fountains and sprawling lawns. Two Warhammer-I main battle tanks and two Steel Ambassador multifunctional combat vehicles were parked beside an elegant flowerbed. A squad of fully armed arcane combat soldiers marched in formation past the fountain, while four White Knights clad in heavy armor and wielding mechanized warhammers stood vigilantly at a distance.

The classical royal castle and the modern arcane mechanical forces coexisted in this scene with a strange, almost surreal sense of dissonance—yet somehow, they blended together in a fascinating way.

“I didn’t expect you to take control of a royal capital so smoothly and establish order in such a short time,” a middle-aged voice came from behind. “It looks like you’re very experienced—did you rehearse this in advance?”

Gawain turned to see Wales Morn approaching the desk. “No rehearsals. The Cecil Legion has contingency plans for most situations. Following protocol was enough to handle this city. As for experience… we have taken control of quite a few cities in the southern territories.”

“This city is a much bigger quagmire,” Wales said with a smile, picking up a teapot from the desk. “Though I may be stating the obvious, I hope you’ll be cautious. You might want to try the red tea here—it’s one of the few good things left in the Silver Fortress.”

Gawain accepted the tea graciously and remarked casually, “Sounds like you don’t have a very high opinion of the Silver Fortress.”

“I don’t like moldy places, and this is the moldiest house in the entire kingdom. I left here for twenty years, and when I returned, nothing had changed,” Wales chuckled. “Fortunately, I don’t have to live here anymore.”

“Do you regret that decision?” Gawain glanced at him.

“You chose the path most disadvantageous to yourself,” Gawain continued. “You didn’t have to leave the throne in disgrace. I would have dealt with those nobles, and you could have handed over power peacefully—maybe even earned the title of ‘Hero King.’ But now, even though I’ve somewhat preserved your reputation, you’re still a king overthrown with a stain on your name—a stain that’s hard to wash away.”

Wales’s tone was calm. “That’s exactly the situation I wanted. A king who peacefully hands over power leaves too many fond memories. Someone will inevitably try to restore the Ansu monarchy under my banner. But a king who’s been overthrown can extinguish most of those sparks—especially if he was a conspiratorial, bloodthirsty tyrant. No one wants a tyrant’s return.”

At this, the king who had reigned for only eight days smiled wryly, a trace of self-mockery on his face. “I even prepared my own gallows—that would have been the most thorough way to ‘overthrow myself.’ But I didn’t expect you to be so direct and forceful, quelling the nobles’ rage before it spiraled out of control… so my gallows went unused.”

Gawain couldn’t help but stare at Wales Morn, but the latter maintained a composed smile, as if discussing something trivial.

“In fact, even if you died, as long as someone still longs for the old days, restorers will appear. They might not use your name, but they’ll find your descendants, other Morn bloodlines, collateral heirs—even fabricate a ‘heir’ if necessary,” Gawain shook his head. “Stopping restoration requires not the eradication of bloodlines, but the passage of time and the appeal of the new era itself. As long as the new order is better than the old, and serves the vast majority of the people’s interests, restorers will have no foothold.”

Wales exhaled softly. “Then that is your task.”

“…Yes, it is.”

Gawain turned slightly and glanced at the plaza outside the window.

Carriages bearing family crests rolled past the square.

Wales stepped forward to stand beside him, both watching silently.

“…The Corinpass family,” Gawain said. “They’re probably here to discuss reopening the market with Duke Berdewin.”

“These families are now on your opposing side, and soon they’ll be subject to Cecil law and ‘reformation,’” Gawain continued. “Many of them once truly pledged loyalty to you, even now. The new Cecil order will be a harsh trial for them. They will lose their long-standing way of life, have much of their property confiscated, lose lands, armies, and nearly all privileges. For nobles of their former status, this is almost unbearable suffering. Some who fail to adapt will even lose their lives—like the old nobles executed in the southern territories.”

“Many of them are good people, by common moral standards,” Wales said calmly. “But Ansu… this country needs rebirth. The problem lies with the entire noble system, so we must destroy the entire noble system. It’s not about whether individuals are good or not.

“On the other hand, even these ‘good people’—those I didn’t send to the Raven Plateau, those who bravely defended the capital—are still obstacles and hindrances to the nation.

“The knights guarding the walls also oppress the serfs. The counts and viscounts who fight to the death also take the last grains and lands from the peasants. Those who donated their fortunes to support the frontlines, who sent all their children to the walls, who died exhausted at the shield nodes… they are also landowners, serf owners, and wealth holders. They include reformers and conservatives alike, but no matter the faction, they must become history—just like me, the king.”

Gawain studied Wales intently, then nodded slowly. “You see it clearly.”

“I only see clearly. I find it hard to act accordingly. I know my limits… I can see through things, but I can’t build an army like yours. I understand people’s hearts, but lack the wisdom to design a whole new order like you do. I may have some resolve… but not enough to ignore all traditional powers and persist in my own direction like you,” Wales said with a self-deprecating shake of his head. “The Raven Plateau was a gift from me to you, but also a test. Only when the heavenly fire falls there can it prove your complete opposition to the current noble system…

“As soon as the cannons fire there, there will be no more room for compromise between you and the nobles. They will submit to you, but never again try to win you over. You will reform them, but never integrate with them. Even years later, even after I’m dead, even after you’re dead—if you die again—the heavenly fire on the Raven Plateau will remain forever etched in the memories of witnesses and their first and second generation descendants.

“I hope you don’t mind this test, even if it’s somewhat audacious.”

“If I minded, I wouldn’t be standing here,” Gawain said, glancing at Wales. “But I am curious—if I hadn’t ordered the cannon fire back then, what would you have done?”

“I arranged about half a knightly order in Mill Town,” Wales smiled faintly. “Compared to a real knightly order, those noisy clowns on the Raven Plateau wouldn’t stand a chance. But that would have been the worst-case scenario. If I had done that, the capital’s fragile order would have collapsed immediately. The death toll would have been several times higher, including many talents who could have helped rebuild the kingdom… But I also believe that if things had come to that, you would have stepped in to clean up the mess.”

Gawain was momentarily stunned, then couldn’t help but laugh. “Good thing I ordered the cannon fire… Wales, when it comes to scheming, you really are just like Charles was.”

“That’s the highest praise I’ve ever heard,” Wales said calmly, then shifted the topic. “But now I have one last worry… Do you know what it is?”

“What is it?”

“The order established in the Duchy of Cecil may seem beneficial today, but the noble system of Ansu was also advantageous when it was first founded… Over time, any order created by humans will inevitably be corrupted, especially a brand-new social order. No one can prove in advance that it’s absolutely right. One day—perhaps even in the near future—if your Kingdom of Cecil—or Empire—goes astray, and the rules you set are shown to be wrong, on that day…” Wales paused, then looked up, locking eyes with Gawain. “Will you overthrow yourself? Or will someone else overthrow you and your descendants?”

Gawain was silent for two seconds, then answered seriously, “I will. I promise.”

He didn’t list a bunch of social development theories or the unique properties of magic technology to back up his words. Wales didn’t ask for any proof either. They simply exchanged a knowing smile, as if reaching an unspoken understanding.

“Then I have no more questions,” Wales said, setting down his teacup and straightening his coat. He took a step back. “It’s time for me to leave. A deposed king shouldn’t linger too long in the capital. This stage is yours now.”

“Not thinking of staying to help?” Gawain called after him as Wales turned to leave. “You’re a talent—a rare one. A newborn nation needs people like you. I have many positions available, and your ‘former king’ status won’t be held against you.”

“You do have a reputation for recruiting talent,” Wales shook his head with a wry smile, “but I’m a lazy man. I’ve already burned through a lifetime’s worth of diligence in these eight days as king. Now I want to return to my old life. For what little I did to defend the city, just let me be lazy for a while.”

Gawain didn’t give up. “Think of it as witnessing whether my new order is right. You can see for yourself if I keep my promises to the end.”

Wales considered, then shrugged. “…Better not. I’m afraid I won’t outlive you.”

Gawain: “…”

The former king left the study.

Gawain sighed, and the air beside him slowly shimmered into the figure of Amber. She blinked and poked his arm. “He didn’t join you, huh…”

“I only tried. Didn’t have high hopes.”

“But you look so disappointed…”

“Is that all you have to say when I finally speak up?”

“Not exactly,” Amber stepped fully out of invisibility and stretched lazily. “It’s just the first time I’ve seen someone who can talk as much as you… And a lot of Wales’ views are surprisingly close to yours. If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect you taught him yourself…”

“There’s more than one smart person in the world. Too bad I can’t recruit them all,” Gawain shook his head, setting aside the trivial lament for now. “Anyway, keep an eye on him. Maybe one day he’ll be willing to stand up and do something for this country.”

“Don’t worry, I knew you’d say that.”

“Where are Duke Bertram and Duchess Victoria?”

“They’re in the reception hall on the first floor, meeting with nobles and merchant representatives. There are a lot of unsettled hearts right now—but they should be done by now. Want me to bring them up?”

“Send them up,” Gawain nodded. “And bring a maginet terminal with you. I want to hold an internal meeting.”

(End of chapter)