Chapter 675: The Legacy
Melita Pernia’s words made High King Gawain raise an eyebrow. “The Age of Empires… that’s quite an insightful way to put it.”
“Witnessing this pivotal moment in history has been one of the greatest rewards since I arrived on this continent,” the agent smiled gently. “Your coronation ceremony was unlike any I expected—not as lavish as I imagined, but far more memorable. This event will surely be etched in many people’s memories.”
Gawain sheathed his sword and took a seat at his desk, casually remarking, “A coronation is meant for others to see, after all. It has to leave an impression.”
Melita said nothing, instead stepping forward and placing a thick stack of manuscripts on the desk.
“You’ve read them?” Gawain glanced over the papers. “Looks like you have something to say.”
“To be honest, I underestimated the ‘knowledge’ you spoke of earlier,” Melita said calmly. “It’s hard to put a price on it, and… I’m not even sure I should accept this commission.”
Gawain studied her silently for a moment before speaking. “You don’t understand why I want to leave this behind?”
“You teach people how to judge whether your empire is functioning properly, suggest they overthrow it once it decays, and even provide detailed procedures for doing so,” Melita met his gaze steadily, her pale violet eyes deep and unfathomable. “No sane person would do that. But no madman could have written these either. So I’m curious… why?”
“First, let me clarify—I’m simply writing down what I know. There are no orders or commands here. Even if someone questions the structure of the Cecil Empire after reading the chapter on ‘The Nature of State and Class,’ it’s because they awakened on their own, not because the emperor told them to,” Gawain said slowly. “Second, the reason is simple—I want to make peace with myself.”
Melita blinked. “Make peace with yourself?”
Gawain didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he placed his hand on the manuscripts and flipped through them casually.
Chapter titles appeared as the pages turned: “The Origin and Inevitable Changes of the Nobility,” “How Means of Production Are Owned,” “The Nature of State and Class,” “Why You Are Hungry,” “Empire, Bread, and Guns”…
His finger stopped on the last page, where a large handwritten phrase stood out—odd grammar for this world’s tongue, but clear in meaning: “Are nobles and ministers born to privilege?”
“Just as you said, the Age of Empires has begun,” he finally looked up, locking eyes with Melita. “And I was the one who started it.
“Sure, civil war and the crystal beasts buried the old kingdoms, but as a long-time observer, you should see that they only buried the surface. What will truly bury the old royal order is the industrial society and imperial system of Cecil. War can scatter an army, but armies can be rebuilt. Only a new social order and advanced productive forces can replace the old foundations—state structure, production relations—and that’s what the Age of Empires means.
“The Age of Empires is better than the Age of Kingdoms, no doubt. But I know, and I’m sure you do too, that it will eventually rot…
“The Cecil Empire is a compromise. Many think I’m uncompromising, that I’d use guns and bombs to destroy anything in my way. But from the day the empire began, I compromised with reality—I kept the concept of ‘nobility,’ the monarchy, and many of the old royal era’s hidden dangers. I built a tight, efficient personal autocracy to buy peace and unity for generations to come. But because I kept those things, sooner or later we’ll face the same problems as Ansu…
“The new nobles are still nobles, the officials in the administration will become bureaucrats, and when that happens, the empire will rot from the root again, just like Ansu did—maybe worse, because this empire is far harder to overthrow than a loose kingdom.
“Before abdicating, Wales Morn asked me if the new realm would rot like Ansu. We both know the answer—of course it will. And no wise emperor or reformist chancellor can stop it. In fact, because of the nature of the Cecil imperial order, if it ever rots, the emperor and chancellor will be the worst of the rot.
“That’s the way the imperial order works, just as Ansu’s rot was caused by its noble order.
“When that time comes, there might not be another southern uprising, and the imperial palace probably won’t see a second Wales Morn. And I might not rise from the grave again.”
As he spoke, Gawain patted the manuscripts on the desk.
“So I want to leave this behind—if the emperor in the palace then refuses to step down, the power of the ancestors will deliver a swift kick.”
“Just these manuscripts?” Melita finally spoke. “Do you really think their inspiration alone will work?”
“That’s why I said it’s for my own peace of mind,” Gawain exhaled softly. “And honestly… how do you know it won’t work?”
“That’s… an interesting thought. Choosing to be your friend seems to have been the right decision,” Melita’s voice softened, and beneath her veil, a faint smile appeared. “But I still have a question—do you really not mind if future generations overthrow the empire you worked so hard to build?”
Gawain was silent for two seconds, then smiled openly. “To be irresponsible—by then, I’ll be dead. What’s there to mind?”
Melita pressed on. “Let’s suppose you come back to life one day. After all, you’ve done it before.”
Gawain looked awkward. “I rose from the grave, not did sit-ups inside the coffin…”
Melita leaned in slightly, her human eyes flashing with a vertical slit. “Then let me ask differently—what if you never die? Your body was tempered by elemental magic and has been proven to not age. In other words, if you don’t ‘die from exhaustion’ this time, you could live forever. But your chancellor and officials won’t. You alone might delay the empire’s decay, but as long as the system runs, it will rot. Of course, you might enact a second reform before that happens. But if—just if—you fail, can’t save your empire, and the Mithril Treasury begins spreading these ‘forbidden knowledge’ as you instructed, what will you do? Will you become the second Wales Morn?”
The agent paused, then continued, “Don’t give me platitudes. If you’re acting on some false ‘historical mission’ from a coronation impulse, you can still revoke this commission. Once it takes effect, the Mithril Treasury doesn’t accept cancellations.”
The humanoid dragon radiated an unspoken pressure. After the barrage of questions, her tone was no longer mere inquiry. Gawain met her gaze steadily, then broke the silence.
“Wales’ choice was admirable… but honestly, I doubt I’d be as graceful as he was.
“I’m stubborn and selfish—at least compared to Wales. And if that day comes, I’ll probably be rotten to the core.
“So I most likely won’t ‘step down’ from the throne. I’ll cling to my imperial power, refuse to admit failure, and organize forces to suppress the rebellion—because by then, I’ll have forgotten the pioneering days and the southern uprising, forgotten everything I told you today.
“At that moment, any rebels in my eyes will be traitors and usurpers.
“If it really comes to that… I hope the rebels have strong ships and powerful cannons.”
At a very close distance, Melita stared into Gawain’s eyes for a long time.
Then she straightened, stepping back to her usual elegant posture. The agent laughed—a clear, genuine laugh without a trace of mockery, full of delight.
“Humans are truly fascinating creatures. Your selfishness and selflessness both reach astonishing extremes,” she said, finally stifling her laughter, her eyes curved in a smile. “Since you’ve said all this, there’s nothing more to confirm. But I am curious—this commission, which almost concerns the fate of a nation, you’re entrusting it to the Mithril Treasury, to the dragons. Are you sure? Don’t you think it’s a bit reckless?”
As she spoke, she picked up the manuscripts and flicked them lightly in the air. “What if we publish it early? What if we alter it? We are dragons—aliens in your eyes. Is your trust in us a little too much?”
“If the dragons really wanted to destroy the current Cecil Empire, would they need to tamper with some manuscripts?” Gawain glanced at her. “And if someday you want to use them for something… honestly, these manuscripts aren’t that powerful. What I’ve summarized is shallow and simplistic. One day, someone will see further and think deeper than I ever did. They won’t need ‘ancient manuscripts’ to guide them. In the end, this is just my way of making peace with myself.”
“Sounds like you’ve thought this through,” Melita sighed. “Very well, I’ll accept the commission. But one thing I must warn you: no one alive today can understand the contents of these manuscripts.”
Gawain nodded lightly. “I know. That’s why I’m entrusting them to you. They appeared too early—maybe a generation too soon. What I have to do is keep promoting education, keep reforming society. If I die a normal death, I hope at least in my lifetime, people will be able to understand them…”
The room fell silent for a few seconds before Melita suddenly said, “Now, I know how to price this special commission.”
“Oh?” Gawain looked up at her, then joked, “I hope it’s not too outrageous—imperial finances aren’t that flush right now.”
“Let’s use your promise as the price,” Melita said. “Advance your education reforms, complete your transformation plan. If you succeed, the Mithril Treasury will honor its promise. If you fail… these manuscripts will never see the light of day.”
Gawain stroked his chin. “Sounds like a losing deal.”
“No, the Mithril Treasury never makes losing deals,” Melita smiled.
After a pause, she added, “If there’s nothing else, I must leave. This is a big commission—I need to return to Talrond.”
“Before you go, there’s something I want to ask,” Gawain said.
“You know the origin of that huge skull from today’s ceremony, don’t you?”
“Of course. I witnessed it myself—and I’ve seen your recent propaganda.”
“There will be more publicity coming up. Everyone will learn the origin of that skull, as well as the plan behind the End of All Things,” Gawain said. “Of course, we’ll manage the information carefully to avoid causing too much shock and triggering social chaos. What I want to ask is—will doing this help us break free from the Black Trap?”
Melita was silent for a moment. In that silence, faint scales began to appear on her cheeks and arms, and her eyes instantly shifted to golden vertical slits. The aura of a dragon surged uncontrollably, causing the room’s lights to flicker erratically. Within her shadow, something indescribable seemed to struggle, trying to spill out. The humanoid dragon’s body trembled slightly, as if painfully resisting a sudden invading will. Just as Gawain was about to tell her to stop, she managed to hold herself together at a critical point and gave a slight nod. “Yes.”
“Then…”
Gritting her teeth, Melita said, “One more question… more money…”
“No, that’s enough,” Gawain waved his hand. “I’ve already gotten what I wanted.”
The alien power that had descended upon Melita quickly receded. She staggered briefly, then nodded to Gawain, took a deep breath, and left the room.
A moment later, on the feed from the surveillance satellite, Gawain saw a blue dragon take off from the top of Silverkeep, soaring northward.
Watching the dragon’s flight path, Gawain couldn’t help but feel a bit curious—not about why no one in the castle noticed a dragon flying overhead. After all, spells like the “Curved Light Field” are within human reach; surely a dragon could handle them easily. What puzzled him was…
Such a massive creature, with a shape hardly aerodynamic, and wings that didn’t look like they could generate much lift—how on earth could it fly so fast?
Maybe it’s powered by the magic of friendship…
Shaking his head to dismiss those wild thoughts, Gawain stretched his shoulders and leaned back in his chair.
“The Black Trap, huh…
“The problem really lies with the gods.”
(Please vote for me!! By the way, I’ve been writing about a thousand more words per chapter than before—has anyone noticed? =.=)
(End of chapter)