Chapter 648: Crisis, Turmoil, and Strategic Arrangements

Night gradually fell, and one by one, the lights of Saint Suniel City flickered on against the darkening sky.

This ancient city, having just survived the brink of destruction, seemed especially quiet in the night. After days of relentless battle cries and explosions, it finally welcomed a night without war. Saint Suniel was like a wounded giant beast, silently licking its wounds in this rare moment of peace.

Compared to Cecil City, Saint Suniel’s lights were far fewer. The bright glow of magical crystal lamps was mostly confined to the castle district and inner city. Beyond that, dim candlelight and flickering braziers barely illuminated the streets. Yet, it was precisely this softer, muted light that lent the night an air of calm and tranquility.

Victoria stood by the window, gazing into the distance. After a long pause, she turned back. “When do you plan to hold the coronation? Or… some other ceremony to officially announce the founding of the empire?”

“Tomorrow,” Gawain replied. “We’ll send word across the realm that the empire has been established, to stabilize the situation everywhere. As for the coronation… that can wait. Let’s deal with the biggest crisis first.”

“You mean the remaining crystal cluster monsters in the southeast of the Holy Spirit Plains?” Victoria blinked. “Their main forces have already taken heavy losses, and they don’t seem capable of launching another full-scale assault. So, what other threat are you referring to?”

Gawain nodded. At this moment, he felt it was time to let the two guardian dukes in on the secret of the “time bomb” lurking beneath the surface.

“I suspect that the End of All Things has activated an ancient god’s legacy. The crystal cluster monsters’ frenzy was caused by this ancient power suddenly going out of control. I have fairly solid evidence now confirming that this divine legacy is ‘active’—and it lies deep in the eastern Holy Spirit Plains, near the Eastern Border. My legions are trying to gather intelligence on that area, but so far, no leads. Its energy signature is growing stronger by the day. An outbreak is only a matter of time… and it won’t be long.”

Victoria and Bertram exchanged a glance, both stunned.

This disaster… the catastrophe that had already devastated Ansu… there was an even deeper, more dangerous crisis beneath it all?!

“I know what you’re thinking—our soldiers gave their all to save Saint Suniel during the disaster, suffering huge losses, and only managed to hold back the first wave. Now to learn it’s far from over, and there’s an even greater threat looming… it’s hard to accept. But fate never cares about what we can handle,” Gawain said before either of them could speak. “What lies ahead is a challenge that could shape humanity’s destiny—not just the crisis caused by the End of All Things, but the long-term situation to come.

“The shadow of the ruins of Gondor stirs restlessly. The harbingers of the magical tide are already faintly visible. Dragons have appeared in the world again. Of the three great dark cults, two still operate in the shadows…

“Our neighbor, Typhon, has risen. It’s a massive threat. In the future, to survive—through disaster, through competition—we must rise as well, and become the strongest.

“I’ll be honest with you: founding an empire isn’t the best way to carry out reforms. It leaves many hidden dangers and remnants behind. I can think of more thorough transformations and more advanced social systems. But time is short. We can’t afford to choose the best option—we must pick the most suitable one for now.

“We must survive. I’m ready, and I hope you are too.”

The two guardian dukes fell silent for a moment.

This wasn’t the first time they’d heard such words from Gawain. When this founding hero first returned, he warned of the magical tide. Since then, he had repeatedly reminded people of the looming crisis from various angles—but back then, no one took these warnings seriously.

Today, no one would dismiss them as alarmism.

“We should restart research on the magical tide and the wastelands, reopen those ancient libraries and archives,” Bertram said. “It’s time to wake up from our stupor—we’ve slept too long compared to the world.”

“The End of All Things crisis is the immediate priority,” Victoria added. “But the kingdom’s armies in the North and West are nearly combat ineffective. Relying on the Cecil Legion alone… will that be enough to handle the threat you mentioned?”

“I’ve made arrangements. There won’t be major surprises,” Gawain said. “What I need from you is stability. By any means necessary, until the dust settles, the western plains and Saint Suniel must not descend into chaos. We’re halfway through the year now. The upcoming Harvest Moon will be critical to whether we can survive the winter. We’ve lost half our grain-producing lands and much of our reserves. If bandits and mass refugees appear in the western plains… even if the Cecil Legion solves the cult crisis, we’ll still face a winter disaster.”

The two guardian dukes nodded solemnly. Gawain then turned to Victoria. “How many reserves remain in the North?”

“The Mountain Legion suffered heavy losses. Even counting reserves that never saw combat, there are only four or five thousand left. Including local conscripts, mercenaries, and private soldiers, maybe ten to fifteen thousand.”

“Have you excluded the border garrisons?”

“Yes. The troops guarding the northern borders will never be redeployed.”

“Over ten thousand… not enough, but we can’t ask for more,” Gawain sighed. “Send reliable officers with troops to the Eastern Border. Take the hills north of Solinfort. The Cecil Legion has already built a secure passage there. Before summer ends, take over the East Wind Fortress and prepare for Typhon. I’ll also send my Second Legion near the border to assist. The Mountain Legion’s reorganization and modernization will take place in the East. Time is short—we must race against it.”

Victoria nodded softly. “Understood.”

“Keep the Western Legion in the Holy Spirit Plains to rest and maintain order in the grain-producing lands,” Gawain said, turning to Bertram. “Their reorganization and modernization will also happen there.”

Bertram lowered his head. “That’s a sound plan.”

Gawain studied them both. When discussing the reorganization and modernization of the troops, the two guardian dukes remained calm and composed.

“I hope you understand that the reorganization of the Northern and Western Legions means reclaiming military authority from you,” Gawain said. “I will replace their command systems and rebuild discipline. They will shift from loyalty to you personally, to loyalty to the Cecil Empire. Of course, considering morale and your personal abilities, you will still command the legions after reorganization—but they will no longer be private armies.”

He had to be clear on this point. Although the military reforms had been discussed before, now that it concerned the two guardian dukes directly, he had to emphasize it again. This was a sensitive and crucial issue. Given the circumstances, he couldn’t completely strip them of command over their original legions—not only because he couldn’t find capable replacements, but also to maintain troop morale.

In peacetime, he would have chosen a more thorough reform to eliminate all risks. But now, with internal and external threats and limited forces, he had to avoid any temporary drop in combat effectiveness.

After all, a nation is weakest not before reform, but during it.

Given this huge risk, he had to ensure Victoria and Bertram’s reliability and cooperation—at least within the bounds of the new rules.

He certainly didn’t want to see warlords emerge within the newborn empire.

“We understand perfectly,” Bertram smiled. “And we will make sure every family in the North and West understands this as well.”

Gawain nodded slightly. Before ending their long discussion, he brought up one last matter.

“Finally, regarding the empire’s capital—once the dust settles, the seat of power will move to Cecil City.”

Victoria and Bertram exchanged a glance, but neither was surprised.

“To sever the old powers’ roots more thoroughly, right?” Victoria said coolly.

“Not just that. Several factors,” Gawain explained. “Saint Suniel is severely damaged. Its governing functions as a capital have essentially collapsed—the old noble system is broken, military power nearly gone, major transport routes covered by contaminated zones, and recovery will take time. Keeping it as the capital no longer makes sense.

“Second, the new imperial order is built on magitech industry. High productivity from magitech is key to rapid social recovery and our rise. Saint Suniel’s industrial base is practically nonexistent—some new factories exist but are idle, and a few magic networks are incomplete. Cecil City, on the other hand, is a mature industrial center, as well as a thriving commercial and cultural hub. It’s surrounded by well-equipped new cities. Compared to Saint Suniel, Cecil City is better suited as the new capital.

“Lastly, as Victoria mentioned, it’s about cutting off the old powers’ roots.”

The families of Saint Suniel had been entrenched for years, their tangled lineages and influence reaching even the city’s lowest ruffians. This tangled web wouldn’t unravel anytime soon. Gawain had no time to play political chess in a broken old city. Moving the capital was simply the most efficient solution.

“But if the capital is in the South, won’t it be too far south geographically?” Bertram asked thoughtfully. “It’s far from the northern population centers and too close to the wastelands…”

“Proximity to the wastelands isn’t a problem. I’m already expanding further south, building multi-layered, progressive defenses. One day, we will reclaim the lands south of the Dark Mountains. Honestly, the southern region is better for survival—fertile land, milder climate. If not for abandonment, it should be a better grain-producing area than the Holy Spirit Plains. The North… is just too cold.

“As for the other concern, if you know the new transportation technology in the South, you wouldn’t worry. On the map, Saint Suniel sits at the crossroads of Ansu, a product of past circumstances and technological decline. Without good transport, the capital had to be central. But once transport is solved, geography matters less.”

Bertram thought for a moment, then nodded slightly. “If that’s the case, I have no objections.”

The night deepened, a cool breeze swept through the study. Gawain rubbed his temples and let out a long sigh. “What we discussed today won’t be accomplished overnight. Besides the big picture, many details still need work. Let’s end here for now. Get some rest…”

“Ding… ding… ding…”

Suddenly, a clear, sacred-sounding bell tolled from afar, interrupting Gawain’s words.

It was the bell from the Holy Light Cathedral.

The three in the room—Heddy had already ended the call—looked up simultaneously, turning toward the source of the bell toll.

“The lockdown on the Holy Light Cathedral has been lifted,” Bertram said. “Looks like we won’t be resting just yet.”

“Let’s go take a look,” Gawain said, gazing out the window, his thoughts drifting. “I wonder how the people inside the cathedral will react once they learn what’s happened outside…”

After the divine ritual ended, perhaps to stabilize the turbulent Holy Light energy—or maybe because the clergy had been so depleted and needed time to recover—the cathedral had remained sealed off. Only now was the lockdown finally lifted.

This situation sparked some intriguing thoughts in Gawain’s mind—

Before the doors closed, the King of Ansu was still commanding the defense.

Now that the doors have opened, forget the king—Ansu itself is gone.

The people inside the cathedral are bound to be shocked.

(End of chapter)