Chapter 854: The Grant Project

Sir Gorosh felt a flicker of surprise as he looked at Emperor Cecil before him—calm, composed, a faint smile playing on his lips.

This imperial ruler’s demeanor was far more serene than he had expected, as if he had long anticipated the Dragonborn’s response today—or rather, no matter what the Dragonborn decided, Cecil seemed to have prepared thoroughly for every outcome.

“Sir,” Gawain observed the brief flash of astonishment on Gorosh’s face and smiled gently, “although Cecil and the Holy Dragon Principality are neighbors, over the past few centuries, our two nations have had limited interaction. Naturally, this leads to misunderstandings and gaps in knowledge between us. Given that, it’s only normal that during our talks some issues arise, some proposals get overturned. We must be prepared for this and always trust in our mutual desire for peace—don’t you agree?”

Gorosh lowered his head. “…I agree.”

Then the Dragonborn laid out their views on bilateral exchanges, responding point by point to Gawain’s earlier proposals. They discussed opening trade routes, student exchange programs, technology sharing, and establishing permanent embassies. One proposal after another was presented—some reached consensus, others were shelved for the time being, and some required further revision. Time slipped by unnoticed.

In the end, Gawain withdrew all plans involving resource development, infrastructure control, and educational exports. The Holy Dragon Principality agreed to most conventional commercial and diplomatic projects, and most importantly—they were willing to accept Cecil’s new currency as the official medium for bilateral trade within a certain scope.

At first, this currency arrangement would be a trial and observation phase, but just taking this step was enough to satisfy Gawain.

He could now declare: the Holy Dragon Principality was officially part of Cecil’s settlement zone.

Of course, today’s meeting with Gorosh was a closed-door session. They were laying down a broad framework, but countless details still needed to be hashed out in the coming days during larger-scale conferences. Cecil’s diplomats, the Council of State’s advisors, and the Dragonborn’s delegation would take center stage in those discussions.

By then, Gawain would no longer personally oversee every detail—Hetty, the Grant Chancellor stationed permanently in the capital, would take over.

The long, exhausting meeting was drawing to a close.

All prepared proposals had been thoroughly discussed. The clerks’ desks were piled high with thick files and shorthand notes. The magical network terminals recording audio and video had their crystals replaced twice. Both Dragonborn and Cecil representatives had received relatively satisfactory answers.

After canceling some proposals outright, and with maximum patience and sincerity from both sides, progress had come faster than Gawain had expected.

Finally, as the great sun dipped toward the horizon, Sir Gorosh exhaled softly and turned to Gawain with one last topic for the day—

“Your Majesty,” the Dragonborn ambassador said solemnly, “I would like to discuss… the Steel Wings.”

“Ah, I was just about to bring that up,” Gawain paused briefly, then smiled. “What are your thoughts on this pinnacle of Cecil engineering?”

“It’s an incredible creation,” Gorosh said without hesitation, openly praising the marvel. “I think every Dragonborn must admit it. It has allowed us to truly grasp the potential and promise of so-called ‘magitech,’ and the possible impact it could have on our people. However, there is one thing I wonder if you know—within the Holy Dragon Principality, laws and traditions forbid Dragonborn from flying. This taboo is deeply important in our society.

“We avoid the skies not only because our wings are not as strong or complete as true dragons’, but because our customs forbid it. Outsiders may find this taboo strange or inexplicable, but you must understand—at least from the Dragonborn perspective, this is an unchangeable fact.”

Gawain listened calmly as Gorosh finished, then raised an eyebrow. “So you’re saying the Dragonborn will not accept this technology—not just officially, but they will prohibit anyone from bringing it into the Principality through any channel.”

Gorosh nodded gently. “Exactly. It will soon be classified as contraband. Import, sale, and use will be banned, and our Dragonblood Council will enact clear laws in the near future.”

As expected—and regrettable.

Several officials from the Council of State, including Gawain himself, could not hide their disappointment.

But soon, Hetty, sitting beside Gawain, caught a flicker of hesitation in Gorosh’s expression. As a perceptive and attentive person, she sensed he had more to say.

“Sir,” Hetty spoke up, “you seem to have something else to add about the Steel Wings?”

“You’re not mistaken, madam,” Gorosh smiled faintly and continued slowly. “The laws and taboos I mentioned do exist, but… Dragonborn laws only apply within Dragonborn lands. The gates of the Holy Dragon Principality are about to open, and it’s difficult to control the actions of Dragonborn who leave our borders. Nor can we forbid what happens inside other nations…”

Hetty raised an eyebrow. “Meaning…?”

“If Dragonborn come to Cecil to study or do business and take an interest in the Steel Wings, and if they have the means to purchase them, the Dragonblood Council cannot intervene. Nor will they pursue any action once those Dragonborn return home,” Gorosh said slowly, his tone somewhat odd, as if these weren’t entirely his own thoughts. “I mean, as long as they don’t bring Steel Wings to the North…”

Gawain was momentarily stunned. He understood the implication but was surprised. He knew these Dragonborn envoys must have ways to communicate with their homeland—last night, Cecil’s magical monitoring devices had detected several unidentifiable magical signals directed toward the far north, clear evidence of long-range communication. So he was certain that, whoever originally conceived this idea, it had ultimately received the tacit approval of the Dragonblood Grant Duke, or even the Dragonblood Council.

Because Gorosh, as the ambassador representing all Dragonborn, spoke with the authority of the Holy Dragon Principality itself.

This was interesting.

Theoretically, the Dragonblood Grant Duke should be the most rigid and strict, the Dragonblood Council the staunchest defenders of Dragonborn tradition and law. Yet here they were, tacitly allowing Dragonborn to exploit this loophole.

In this context, regarding the issue of flight, tacit approval was almost encouragement.

They didn’t actually mind Dragonborn flying—they just forbade it within the Principality, or more precisely, forbade Dragonborn from flying over the northernmost reaches of the continent…

The reasons behind this were likely a secret for now, but Gawain was naturally pleased by the development.

All he needed was for Dragonborn south of the Principality to be able to use Steel Wings freely, to fly without worrying about the Principality’s objections. Whether they could fly in the North was of no concern to him as Cecil’s ruler.

“I think I understand your meaning,” Gawain nodded. “Then we will control the flow of Steel Wings—they won’t be allowed into the Holy Dragon Principality. We can even legislate to prohibit this, and you can crack down on smuggling. Our two nations can cooperate on this front.”

“That would be best. Of course, we’ll need to discuss the details of restricting Steel Wings in the northern regions, because there will surely be some ‘brave’ Dragonborn who try to challenge tradition,” Gorosh said, a hint of helplessness creeping into his tone. “You must understand, young people… especially young Dragonborn, tend to be… rebellious.”

“I understand perfectly,” Gawain laughed, then suddenly shifted tone, growing serious. “Since we’re on the topic, I want to say a few more words.”

“Please, Your Majesty.”

“Steel Wings allow Dragonborn to fly like true dragons—and flying dragons represent immense military power,” Gawain said gravely. “On this point…”

Gorosh immediately caught his meaning and replied, “Dragonborn in Cecil must obey Cecil’s laws. I imagine that since you created Steel Wings, you also have the means to regulate those equipped with them. Otherwise, your nation wouldn’t have put such things on the market.”

Gawain nodded gently. “There are two things I want to say. What you mentioned is one of them.”

“Oh?” Gorosh’s curiosity was piqued. “And the second?”

“I just want to confirm,” Gawain smiled slightly, “to my knowledge, the Holy Dragon Principality’s laws do not forbid Dragonborn from becoming mercenaries in other countries…”

Gorosh and several advisors present all glanced toward Asralina, who shrugged helplessly. “That’s a personal choice.”

“Our laws indeed don’t forbid it,” Gorosh said, turning back with a serious expression, “but mainly because until now, the Principality’s gates have never been officially open. As Ms. Asralina said—even if some Dragonborn left the country to become mercenaries, it was only on an individual basis.

“If you mean that Cecil wishes to establish an official foreign legion under state authority, and make this part of an agreement between Cecil and the Holy Dragon Principality… then we will need a dedicated meeting to discuss it seriously.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Gawain’s mouth.

The ambassador was cautious, not outright endorsing anything, but he was open to discussion—that was enough.

The rest was just negotiation.

…

The great sun had nearly slipped below the horizon, leaving only a faint reddish glow in the western sky. This dim light spread across the plains, casting its glow on towering iron spires and construction machinery, as well as the grand pyramid-shaped building.

The strange structure rose from the earth, bathed in the sunset’s fading light. Streams of magical energy slowly flowed through cracks in its walls, while faint runic inscriptions emerged from its base, lending it an air of silent mystery.

“What a beautiful building,” Chief Architect Gordon said, standing beside a piece of heavy machinery in the open space, gazing proudly at the pyramid-like facility. “I can hardly believe it… back in the old days, a craftsman who built a structure like this in his lifetime would be considered the pride of his family, even a legacy to boast about for generations. And we built this in just one month…”

“Though that’s just the shell,” Nicholas, the floating orb, buzzed beside Gordon. “The internal systems will still need a long time for adjustment and testing.”

Hearing that, Gordon immediately thought of those “newcomers” who had been appearing here lately, constantly buzzing around this so-called “Computing Center.” He frowned instinctively. “You mean those new ‘network and wetware tech specialists’? They’ve been busy inside recently… But to be honest, I don’t see any sign of expertise in them. Some of them can’t even operate a standard magitech terminal properly. When it comes to handling the machines, they’re not even as skilled as my workers…”

“Ah, they definitely need some ‘catching up’ in that area,” Nicholas—nicknamed Egg—buzzed in. “So the fine-tuning and equipment debugging mostly falls to the technicians sent over from the Magitech Research Institute. As for those ‘newbies’… their main job is testing the devices.”

Gordon looked skeptical. “Can they really do it well?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” Nicholas said with a note of admiration. “When it comes to testing, they’re unexpectedly professional. They seem to have plenty of experience dealing with all sorts of unexpected issues. For example, if there’s a connection failure, a normal person would be dizzy for at least half an hour. But I’ve seen these guys just crawl out of the immersion pods, spit once, and then go right back in to keep testing, looking perfectly fine. And while most people can only stay in the pods for six hours before needing a break, these folks seem like they could stay in there forever—I honestly wonder if they solved the eating, drinking, and bathroom problems, would they really live their whole lives inside? I have no idea how they trained for that.”

“Who knows,” Gordon shrugged. “Anyway, His Majesty brought them here, so they must have their strengths…”

(A slight revision to an earlier chapter about Hadrian… though most probably didn’t even notice.)

(End of chapter)