Chapter 840: A New Delegation
A figure cloaked in black robes flew in from the direction of the Shadow Marsh, landing at the Typhon checkpoint. Soldiers and stationed officers immediately approached, inquiring about the mage’s purpose. Mages skilled in flight were not the same as the mass-produced “battle mages” trained for combat. These individuals came from the Royal Mage Association, having undergone systematic education and years of rigorous training. They were usually stationed at places like communication towers or Mage Association branches. For one of them to come personally meant something important was afoot.
“You should have stopped that train just now!” The black-robed mage landed and glared at the magitek train that had already crossed the border. It wasn’t moving at full speed but glided slowly along the tracks. Still, the border was an invisible barrier—once crossed, even a snail-paced train was impossible for the Typhon forces to catch. “Damn it… there might be people sneaking across on that train!”
The knight guarding the outpost widened his eyes and glanced back toward the train’s direction before turning back. “We already inspected it. Only cargo matching the manifest and registered crew members are on board.”
“You checked it yourself?”
Meeting the mage’s stern gaze, the young Typhon officer stood tall. “I personally checked it. The soldiers checked once, and I checked again.”
“…Alright, I hope you didn’t miss anything,” the mage sighed. “Listen, orders have come from Aldern…”
The train came to a halt at the Cecil side checkpoint. Soldiers began meticulously inspecting the cargo and exchanging the necessary clearance documents with the train’s supervisor. Everything appeared in order.
A commander, wearing the standard-issue fusion-cutting sword at his waist, stepped into the carriage and glanced toward the far end.
Between the crates, many silent figures sat motionless.
The commander nodded slightly and turned to leave.
The carriage doors closed again, plunging the freight car back into darkness.
“We’re safe,” a voice whispered from the shadows. “This is the Cecil checkpoint…”
“We just need to hold on a little longer,” Yuri said softly. “We have to get to White Sand Station before we can disembark. That’s where we’ll blend in with the White Sand Mining Company workers—that’s when we’ll truly set foot on Cecil soil.”
Wendy’s voice came from nearby. “You used mental interference on the knights and soldiers during the boarding inspection. Won’t that give us away?”
“No,” Yuri shook his head. “That knight was low rank. As for the battle mages stationed here—those mass-produced mages can’t detect high-level psychic spells. But once Aldern’s orders reach these border posts, things will change. They’ll send stronger, official mages to inspect the checkpoints.”
“That won’t concern us then,” a priest muttered quietly. “I just hope the others crossing after us make it through safely…”
Wendy glanced at the priest who had spoken last, closing her eyes briefly but saying nothing.
After this train… how many more of our people would cross this border, heading into Cecil, ruled by the “Outsiders”?
As Yuri said… perhaps many would stay in Typhon.
Though the Outsiders were powerful, only a few archbishops truly understood and faced that power. Outside the dream world, the Outsiders appeared as mere mortal emperors. Their “loyalty” enforced by power was always fragile.
The Sleeper Order, which had lasted seven centuries, was destined to fracture, becoming nourishment for two human empires. What the future held… no one knew.
The “future” might be like this train—rumbling forward, heading into the unknown. For Wendy, Yuri, and the others, it was all just imagination.
In the darkness, someone whispered to themselves, “Cecil… we have arrived…”
Morning sunlight bathed the lawn before the Cecil Palace. The scent of fresh earth drifted gently on the breeze. As usual, Gawain strolled along the path, while Amber jogged lightly beside him.
This was Gawain’s most peaceful moment of the day.
When the distant mechanical clock tower chimed its first clear note, Gawain suddenly said, “Last night, the first successful informant appeared.”
Amber blinked, caught off guard. “…Huh?”
Gawain casually added, “From the Sleepers’ side.”
As head of intelligence, Amber immediately understood. She frowned. “So soon? Didn’t we predict it would take at least a week before anyone could successfully leak information to Rosetta Augustus?”
“Looks like we underestimated Typhon’s Royal Mage Association,” Gawain shook his head. “They quickly figured out how to disrupt the psychic network. Even small-scale application is enough to uncover a lot.”
“Then we need to prepare earlier,” Amber muttered. “The number of Sleepers reaching Cecil will probably be half what we expected. Luckily, the core personnel and most technical data should be safe… The rest will fall into Rosetta Augustus’s hands.”
“Of course it will. And he’ll immediately start trying to analyze and apply the Sleepers’ technology. If he’s open-minded enough, he’ll do what I did—gather those Sleepers intercepted in Typhon, try to recruit them into his engineering guild… Maybe… no, he definitely will,” Gawain said calmly. “They might soon find ways to improve the communication towers…”
Amber eyed him suspiciously. “Is that part of your plan?”
“It’s not my plan. It’s an inevitable development. Neither Megal III nor I can stop it. But I don’t mind letting things go that way,” Gawain said casually. “Like I said long ago, we can’t expect our opponents to stand still—especially one like Typhon. They’ll develop fast. All we can do is develop a little faster and put more obstacles in their path.”
Amber pursed her lips, trying to keep up with Gawain’s pace as she muttered, “Anyway, the most important thing now is that your role as the ‘mastermind’ is definitely exposed to Rosetta.”
Gawain was silent for two seconds, then exhaled softly, gazing into the distance. “Yeah…”
“Should we prepare a public relations response?” Amber asked. “Typhon might try to make a fuss—though I doubt they have any clever tricks in ‘public opinion.’”
“You handle that,” Gawain said casually. “You’ve got plenty of experience with this.”
“Understood.”
Amber nodded briefly. Seeing Gawain had no more to say, she couldn’t help but ask, “Also, since your interference with the Sleepers in Typhon has been exposed, there’ll be other reactions—like the trade and ambassador plans we just finalized…”
“Trust me, business will go on, ambassadors will be sent, and peace will remain. Typhon and Cecil will still be good neighbors,” Gawain smiled and glanced at Amber. “As for the covert side… we’ve always had plenty of spies infiltrating each other. Your intelligence agency keeps sending excellent agents, and how many Typhon spies have we caught in the eastern and northeastern provinces?”
Amber rolled her eyes. “Enough to build a city, or form a mining guild.”
“That’s perfect,” Gawain smiled faintly. “Just normal great power business. Of course, Rosetta Augustus will be more cautious now and impose some restrictions on future commercial orders. But so what? Behind the peace treaty, who really underestimates whom? Everyone just knows when national interests are at stake, there’s an unspoken understanding.”
Amber looked thoughtful. Gawain sighed quietly and fell silent, his mind drifting elsewhere.
What he and Amber discussed was only at the national level. On a personal level, he had no idea how Rosetta Augustus felt about him—the so-called “Outsider.”
One thing was certain: he couldn’t expect an emperor like Rosetta to be trembling or panicked when facing an “Outsider.”
More likely, the Typhon emperor never saw him as an ordinary human. Whether he was man or ghost beneath this skin probably didn’t matter.
Because Gawain himself held the same mindset—
The Augustus family, rulers of Typhon for two centuries, had long been entangled with a “curse” that hinted at divine spiritual corruption.
Rosetta Augustus had her own “little secret.” Whether it involved divine spiritual corruption, and which god it concerned, was something that piqued Gawain’s curiosity but didn’t affect his dealings with Typhon.
Because national interests demanded it.
“What are you thinking about?” Amber’s voice suddenly broke through Gawain’s reverie. He turned to see her amber eyes fixed on him. “You look so serious all of a sudden…”
Gawain spoke without hesitation, “Those who sit on the throne often cease to be ‘human.’”
Amber was stunned, then scratched her head. “I always thought your job wasn’t for humans either, but you saying it so plainly leaves me speechless…”
Gawain: “…That’s not what I meant.”
“Same difference,” Amber waved it off. Then, quickening her pace to keep up, she muttered, “Can’t you walk slower? Is this your idea of a stroll?”
Gawain glanced down at his steps, then at Amber jogging beside him. “I thought you were out for a morning run…”
Amber’s pointed ears twitched, veins bulging near the base. “…I’m just trying to keep up with you!!”
Gawain: “…”
As the Typhon freight train sped under the sunlight toward the White Sand Hills, another train rumbled along newly laid tracks on the vast plains outside Pompeii, near the slowly thawing, swelling Gorgon River.
Red-haired Aslarena sat by the window, eyes wide with curiosity as the grass and relay posts blurred past.
She had been to this human kingdom’s southern lands twenty years ago.
But now, two decades later, everything felt fresh and new in ways she hadn’t imagined.
Only twenty years had passed.
The Dragonmark Witch withdrew her gaze and looked at Sir Gorosh sitting opposite her. “See, this thing is definitely faster than the earth dragon beasts…”
When the Dragonborn arrived, the pack animals they had ridden were left behind in the north. Those traditional beasts of burden had served their purpose, but they weren’t suited to the southern climate and terrain. The people of Cecil had prepared more convenient, more advanced means of transportation for their guests. At first, Sir Gorosh had been skeptical of these rumbling machines, but now it seemed he was thoroughly enjoying the experience.
“I wonder how the Cecilians managed to build something like this,” Sir Gorosh said, curiosity coloring his tone. “If these could run just as well in colder regions, that would be something…”
“But navigating the northern mountains won’t be easy,” Asalina replied. “The Holy Dragon Principality doesn’t have many plains.”
“That’s something the Dragonborn can handle, isn’t it?” Sir Gorosh chuckled. “The real question is whether the Cecilians are willing to sell this technology—and on what terms. Judging by your old acquaintance’s attitude, they seem quite eager to export these new inventions, as long as the price is right.”
“Sir Gorosh, I never took you for a merchant,” Asalina said, eyeing him up and down. “And when you mentioned ‘old acquaintance’… it sounded like you meant something more.”
Sir Gorosh’s face remained impassive. “That’s your imagination, Miss Asalina.”
“Let’s hope so,” she said, turning her gaze back to the window. “Ah, it looks like we’re about to cross a mountain pass…”
(End of chapter)