Chapter 686: Tactful

The restoration of the Iron Throne was complete.

This news finally allowed Gawain to breathe a genuine sigh of relief.

That armored train was currently the strongest land-based military asset of the Cecile Empire. Its unique capabilities enabled it to rapidly move along the railway lines and hold a formidable defensive position without additional support. Its powerful artillery and shield systems were, in this era, equivalent to an extra border fortress—and what the empire needed most right now was exactly such a fortress.

Every day, the Longwind Fortress sent back a flood of reports. The Typhon Empire’s troop reinforcements had become blatantly obvious. Although the peace treaty once signed between Ansu and Typhon had not yet been officially torn up, anyone with eyes could see that the document’s binding power was weaker than a handful of swords. Just as Gawain had predicted from the start: peace between nations was never maintained by gentleman’s agreements.

In this context, the value of the Iron Throne was self-evident.

“How far has the railway been laid?” he asked, looking up at Hetty.

“It already runs through the Eastern Territory and is approaching the Caron Valley region. A newly outfitted engineering train is advancing alongside the tracks. The construction is expected to be completed within twenty days,” Hetty nodded. “Once finished, the Iron Throne can be deployed near the Paramel Highlands by Longwind Fortress. Its artillery will cover the entire Longwind defense line, and other military trains can quickly transport armored units to the border.”

Gawain nodded thoughtfully as he listened. After Hetty finished her report on the Iron Throne and the Eastern railway, he asked, “What’s the status of the purification efforts in the Sacred Spirit Plains contamination zone?”

“The purification zone has now reached the Fertile Woodland, and the pace will accelerate from here,” Hetty smiled. “Since the fall of the ‘Artificial God,’ all the crystal giants have significantly weakened—not only in strength but also in mobility. They’ve lost the ability to actively spread the plague. Our purification teams are thoroughly inspecting the contamination zones, and so far, there’s no sign of any resurgence.”

After the abomination created by the End of All Things was destroyed, the crystal giant legions immediately began to decline—just as the military strategists and scholars in Cecile City had predicted.

The crystal giants had a unique organizational structure: lower units were controlled by the minds of higher nodes, even relying on them for cognitive functions. This gave them efficiency and communication abilities far beyond contemporary human legions, even a degree of telepathy. But their weakness was fatal: if a higher node was destroyed, all subordinate nodes would collapse instantly. Originally, the crystal legions were controlled by many bishops of the End of All Things, so losing one node only affected a branch, which wasn’t fatal. But after the Artificial God went rogue, all higher nodes were centralized in the “God” itself—making this weakness deadly.

The fall of the Artificial God turned the crystal legions into a scattered, feeble pack of beasts. This greatly eased the pressure on the ongoing purification of the Sacred Spirit Plains. Otherwise, nearly a million monsters would remain, and with the empire’s severe postwar manpower shortage, completely clearing them out would have been a daunting task.

“A rotten old tree has fallen, scattering dead branches and leaves everywhere… cleaning it up will still take some effort,” Gawain murmured. Then he looked up at the three Grand Regents. “The End of All Things is a vast organization, deeply rooted in this country. Many minor nobles, merchants, and church clerics have been corrupted and decayed by its influence. The main body of this cult has fallen, but many remnants remain. The cleanup won’t be limited to just the monsters in the Sacred Spirit Plains.”

Victoria bowed her head deeply, her voice cold and resolute. “Yes, we understand.”

“No, you only understand part of it,” Gawain shook his head. “The remnants of the cult must be uprooted, but we must be careful not to let this process turn into the kind of extreme violence the Holy Light Church used when burning heretics. The empire is newly founded, and we are promoting a new order of justice and rule of law. Now is not the time for old-fashioned brutality. We cannot embarrass ourselves or sow panic and chaos.”

“I will have Pittman compile a manual on identifying the activity patterns and magical signatures of the Dark Druids, to be distributed to priests and official druids across the empire. If cultists of priestly rank are found, they will be lawfully executed. But if they are merely ordinary people who have been misled or shallow believers, we will try to handle them through labor and ideological reform. Collective burning of heretics must be banned.”

Victoria blinked. “What if these milder methods fail to deter the cultists? Those influenced by the cult often have deeply ingrained beliefs that are hard to correct quickly…”

The Duchess, who had once arrested cultists in the Northern Territories and dealt with many heretics, clearly understood the mindset of those who had gone astray.

“First, you should have faith in the Cecile-style labor plus ideological reform program. We’ve already reformed many people this way. Besides, I’ve prepared special ‘spiritual nourishment’ for the End of All Things’ followers,” Gawain smiled patiently. “I plan to repeatedly show them footage of the hunt for the Artificial God—from the brave capture to the sea monster’s feast—uncut, with experts explaining the knowledge about the Artificial God. We’ll play it three times a day, and on rest days, documentaries about cutting up the false god’s remains and crafting the Skull Throne will be shown.”

“Second, if there really are stubborn cases—as I’m sure there will be—that’s fine. The empire has plenty of mines short on workers. If they can’t be reformed in one year, then two years; ten years, then twenty. If they can’t be reformed in a lifetime, we’ll award them medals after they die, thanking them for their outstanding contributions to the empire’s industrial development.”

Duke Bertram Franklin was a bit stunned by Gawain’s words—his eyes widened at the first half, and after hearing the second half, he exclaimed with an exaggerated expression, “If you really use that ‘spiritual nourishment,’ I doubt anyone could last more than two years—unless they’re both blind and foolish.”

“Sometimes those brainwashed by cults aren’t much better than fools,” Victoria shook her head. “But I also believe His Majesty’s plan will be effective.”

Gawain smiled and then turned to Hetty. “Hetty, any new developments regarding the underground ‘nest’ near Solinburg?”

He was referring to the End of All Things’ lair in the eastern Sacred Spirit Plains. After the Artificial God was killed, search teams found a massive fissure near Solinburg. According to Pittman’s intelligence, the lair beneath was likely the cult’s main base, possibly rivaling the size of the Rebellion Fortress, with parts extending into the Eastern Territory, hiding countless secrets.

“We’ve cleared the surface and shallow caves and tunnels but haven’t gone deeper,” Hetty shook her head. “The underground structure is too complex. Scholars are trying to decipher the magical traps and mechanisms. Until then, the teams dare not proceed recklessly. Also, after Rebecca learned of this, she suggested the experts drop bombs underground to disable the traps. Rest assured, it’s already been done.”

Gawain: “…”

“Ahem, understood,” Gawain coughed after a few seconds. “That’s exactly the kind of thing Rebecca would do. But she’s grown up now; when talking, you still have to consider her dignity…”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Hetty nodded solemnly. Nearby, Victoria and Bertram exchanged a glance, sharing a knowing look.

Seeing Victoria—the usually expressionless one—smile slightly, Gawain realized Rebecca’s antics had probably become well-known in Saint Suniel. After all, if the girl hadn’t caused one mess after another, someone as steady as Hetty wouldn’t have reported with such veiled complaints, trying to get the old ruler’s attention about the troublemaker’s mischief.

Though it was a bit embarrassing, when Hetty mentioned the underground lair’s many traps and mechanisms, Gawain had also thought about using demolition teams—only his idea was for precise, controlled explosions, while Rebecca’s fiery approach might have been big enough to blow the city gates off their hinges.

“Rebecca…” Gawain sighed with a helpless smile, then turned toward the window.

The autumn wind swept through the castle towers, swirling among the intricate spires and battlements, carrying fallen leaves and a chill from the Northern Territories. Unconsciously, this was already the fourth year since he had awakened as Gawain Cecile—and the fourth year since he had met Rebecca and Hetty.

“Four years already… shouldn’t that child have learned to be a bit steadier by now?”

The autumn wind rustled through the castle courtyard, past the tall, stately dragonleaf trees and the neatly trimmed bushes and flowerbeds. A single yellowed leaf twirled down from above, gently caught by a slender hand.

The black-haired maid Maggie looked at the leaf resting in her palm. Its asymmetrical shape—narrow on one side, wide on the other—and jagged edges reminded her of the legendary dragon’s wing. She vaguely remembered that in her hometown, every autumn the streets and alleys would be blanketed with such leaves.

The “Dragonleaf Tree” was rare in Ansu but very common in the Saint Dragon Principality.

Maggie gently closed her fingers around the leaf. A faint glow shimmered between her fingers, and when she opened her palm again, the leaf had transformed into a bird made of shimmering dust, floating lightly into the sky.

“It flies so well…” she murmured softly.

Suddenly, footsteps approached from behind. Maggie immediately composed herself, returning to her usual sharp and poised demeanor. She turned to see who was coming.

It was the empire’s princess—Rebecca Cecile.

“Your Highness,” Maggie greeted respectfully, bowing at just the right moment as Rebecca drew near.

High society was full of complex rules. Beyond the written etiquette, countless unwritten customs governed behavior. Even the timing of a servant’s bow was a lesson in itself—too early, and it seemed like an impatient demand for a response; too late, and it appeared rude or slow-witted. The nuances were endless.

Though Victoria had said these cumbersome rules would eventually fade or simplify along with the old nobility, for Maggie, these gestures had long since become second nature, requiring no conscious effort to maintain.

“Hey, hey, no need to go through all that trouble,” Rebecca quickly waved her hand. She didn’t quite understand the subtle rules behind all these formalities. The only maid she usually dealt with was the slow-witted Betty, who was so sluggish she’d barely react even if struck by lightning. So Rebecca had no idea there was so much nuance in Maggie’s bow. “I’m still not used to all this…”

Maggie gave a gentle smile. “As a member of the royal family, you’ll have to get used to it.”

“Don’t remind me. I’m still a bit dizzy from it all. How did my ancestor go off to war and come back with a new title for me…” Rebecca scratched her head, her confusion completely genuine. “But enough about that—I finally got a chance to talk to you. I didn’t see you at the banquet, and you never come out much. I had to ask the guards just to find out you were in the courtyard!”

Maggie frowned slightly. She’d barely interacted with Rebecca before and couldn’t quite guess the princess’s unconventional train of thought. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

Rebecca thought for a moment, then broke into a bright, warm smile that instantly put people at ease. She leaned in and said, “Well… I heard from my ancestor that you’re actually a dragon, right?”

Maggie paused, her expression flickering for a moment before she finally exhaled softly and lowered her head. “Yes.”

She had never wanted to flaunt her true identity, always guarding it like a secret. But during the recent war, many in the Cecil army had discovered her true form. Considering that none of them had treated her differently because of it, and since Rebecca was such a likable, lively girl, the human-form dragon finally felt at ease enough to admit the truth.

“Oh, that’s great, that’s great!” Rebecca nodded eagerly, then opened her mouth, gathering her courage for what came next—

She remembered her ancestor’s advice to be polite and careful not to hurt Maggie’s pride, since there seemed to be some sensitive history tied to the black dragon’s bloodline. So Rebecca took a moment to choose her words carefully before smiling brightly and saying, “So… could you transform for me? I’d love to see it!”

(End of chapter)