Chapter 880: Not Necessarily a Bad Thing

That deep, soul-stirring sense of being watched—tinged with a faint warning—slowly faded away. Yet Melita and Noretta didn’t fully recover for several minutes. Even mighty dragons, in moments like this, come to a stark realization: though dragons are seen by mortals as rulers of the skies, exalted beings from legend, at their core, dragons are… just another mortal species.

“So… that was a direct warning from a god?” Noretta bit her lip, her face pale and troubled, brow furrowed. “It’s different from a soul’s punishment, but it’s just as unsettling…”

“That was only the mildest form of a ‘reminder,’” the Speaker’s voice echoed from the Throne of Minds, sounding even older than before. “Children, you do not want to face a true ‘warning’ from a deity.”

After a few seconds of silence and hesitation, Melita couldn’t help but ask, “…What exactly was that signal? Why is it something we shouldn’t hear?”

The Speaker, Andar, gave the young blue dragon a long, penetrating look.

Melita was one of the more outstanding and daring among the younger generation. Her years spent among humans had shaped her personality differently from most dragons, giving her the courage to ask questions even in such a situation.

And dragons needed young souls like her.

“In this world, every race only gets one chance to look up at the stars,” the aged Speaker lowered his gaze to the two young dragons, his tone low and grave. “Miss it, and it’s gone forever.”

…

Heragor bowed respectfully and humbly. The middle-aged dragon priest stood silently beside the golden-haired deity, lips tightly pressed, as if not daring to utter a single word.

The majestic god stood at the far end of the palace terrace, bathed in the fading light of dusk. From this temple near the clouds, she overlooked the dragon-ruled realm below. Her eyes seemed to rest on nothing in particular, yet Heragor, attuned to divine power, knew that in that brief moment, countless transcendent, incomprehensible “eyes” had gazed toward the direction of the Mithril Treasury and the Council’s headquarters—such attention hadn’t been seen in many years.

“My Lady,” Heragor finally spoke in a low voice after a long pause, maintaining his humble posture, “perhaps it was just some reckless act by young members of our race…”

The air was thick with suffocating silence. Heragor could hear his own heartbeat. After several seconds, the golden-haired figure at the terrace’s edge finally spoke, her tone gentle, calm, and unhurried:

“No need to be anxious. I can distinguish between intentional offense and unintentional mistakes.

“What happened just now was a minor accident. A young dragon returned from outside, unaware of what she had brought back—such a slip should not be punished.”

Hearing this calm reply, Heragor finally exhaled in relief. But he did not see the complex, inexplicable smile that the golden-haired figure turned away to hide—a smile tinged with resignation.

She lifted her gaze to the distant sky, her eyes seeming to pierce through clouds and atmosphere, reaching deep into the starry expanse.

“A signal…” the Dragon God murmured to herself, but her words made the relaxed Heragor tense once more. “The human civilization on the opposite continent… has produced some surprises. The Cecile Empire, is it? Heragor—their ruler is a human hero who has returned from death?”

“Yes, my Lady,” Heragor replied immediately, bowing his head. “His name is Gawain Cecile. He was active in the northern lands of the Loren Continent seven hundred years ago and was resurrected a few years back.”

“Heh… resurrection. Mortals rarely achieve such a feat so easily,” the Dragon God chuckled, shaking her head. “He… might be an interesting person. I find myself curious about him.”

…

Sitting at his familiar desk, a warm summer breeze drifted through the open window. The afternoon was pleasant and relatively quiet, yet Gawain suddenly shivered inexplicably.

Hetty, who was sorting through some documents nearby, noticed immediately and asked with concern, “Ancestor, are you alright?”

“Nothing,” Gawain shook his head, a puzzled expression on his face. “Just a sudden chill, like being watched by something… strange.”

His tone was casual, but Hetty’s expression grew serious as she looked at him. “A legendary warrior’s intuition? Did you sense a hostile gaze?”

“No, nothing that severe…” Gawain smiled wryly at her solemnity. “Probably just a momentary distraction. I didn’t actually feel watched, let alone threatened.”

“Still, better to be cautious,” Hetty insisted. “Legendary figures like you often have strong intuitive premonitions. When it comes to personal safety, that intuition can border on the legendary ‘foresight.’ Our nation has only recently stabilized; all key projects are at critical stages. Who knows how many enemies lurk in the shadows, waiting for a chance to sabotage us? I suggest beefing up security in the capital, checking all personnel coming and going, and guarding against assassination attempts.”

“That’s a bit much…” Gawain laughed, looking at his great-granddaughter. “You can’t just mobilize the whole city because I shivered once. Besides, Amber and her Intelligence Bureau agents, along with Solderin’s Steel Rangers, have security covered. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Hetty thought for a moment, perhaps realizing she’d overreacted. “You’re right. But it wouldn’t hurt for you to stay a bit more alert.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll be careful,” Gawain waved his hand. At that moment, he felt like an old man being nagged by his descendants. Seeing Hetty about to speak again, he quickly cut her off: “You’re not exactly a kid anymore, you know…”

Hetty’s next words were swallowed up.

“Security can wait,” Gawain said with a smile, shaking his head. “Let’s talk about the matter at hand. We’ve received news from Typhon. Our neighbors are probably close to discovering the function of the Inversion Array. They’ve made breakthroughs in communication technology and other fields that require a blend of divine and arcane energy. It shouldn’t be long now.”

Gawain spoke lightly, but Hetty’s eyes widened instantly. “The Inversion Array?! The Typhon people are cracking it?”

“No need to be so surprised,” Gawain said calmly, looking at her. “Though the Inversion Array is ancient Gondor technology, it’s only conceptually advanced. The actual technology and manufacturing aren’t complicated. We use many devices with the Inversion Array, and some will inevitably fall into Typhon’s hands. Also, after the Upper Narrator incident, Typhon has been harvesting Sleeper technology. They’ll encounter compatibility issues between divine runes and other runes, and naturally realize that Cecile has solved this problem. They’ll suspect some kind of ‘conversion technology’ behind it and will start researching it.”

He paused, shaking his head with a smile. “Finally—smart people aren’t all in Cecile. Typhon has its own talent pool, and from a foundation standpoint, they probably have more skilled people than we do.”

“…But that’s too fast,” Hetty frowned, struggling to accept it. “Even if the Inversion Array’s technology is simple, the key is the concept… If the concept isn’t understood, a project can be delayed for years. How could Typhon have pinpointed the core problem and started targeted research so quickly? Ah! Damn it, it must be those traitorous bishops!”

Suddenly, Hetty’s expression darkened with anger. She thought of the Sleeper bishops who sided with Typhon, especially those high-ranking ones in technical fields.

Their authority gave them access to vast technical data. The chaos during the Sleeper Order’s great evacuation allowed those bishops, who had long intended to defect to Typhon, to gather intelligence on Cecile through various channels. They might not have uncovered core secrets, but technicians excel at deducing deep technical principles from external information. They likely guessed some principles behind Cecile’s magic network communication, which became the “gift” those Sleeper bishops offered when they surrendered to Rosetta Augustus in Typhon.

Gawain had thought of all this too, but he remained calm, even smiling: “No need to be so angry. This was expected.

“Also, ‘defection’ isn’t quite accurate. Strictly speaking, it’s the Sleeper bishops who moved to Cecile who ‘defected.’ For those who stayed in Typhon… their actions could be seen as ‘turning from darkness to light.’”

“Ancestor,” Hetty couldn’t help but look at Gawain, “You’re joking at a time like this?”

“Is this really such a crisis?” Gawain shook his head. “Relax, Hetty. You’re excellent in every way, but you need to ease up on this constant tension. It’ll only wear you out. We foresaw this situation when the Sleeper Order split, with technicians flowing to both Cecile and Typhon. A large number of researchers and existing technologies ended up in Typhon’s hands. They’re an old empire with deep roots and abundant talent, so such a sudden technological breakthrough is to be expected.

“On the other hand, it’s not as bad as you think. Although communication technology is significant and will greatly enhance Typhon’s overall strength, the journey from lab to society is a long one.”

Hetty blinked, meeting Gawain’s eyes.

He nodded slowly. “Our magic network communication isn’t just about Sleeper rune sets and a simple Inversion Array. It involves extensive engineering, mechanical processing, materials science, and rune logic, plus institutional adaptation and countless vested interests. Every one of these is a major hurdle for Typhon. For example… Typhon has invested huge manpower, resources, and time building a communication system based on signal towers between major cities and military strongholds. Do you know what that means?”

Hetty’s expression grew thoughtful.

Without waiting for her answer, Gawain continued, “It means hundreds of families have invested in those towers. Tens of thousands of merchants, nobles, and supernaturals share in the profits. The towers are mainly managed and operated by Typhon’s Royal Mage Association, and mages are far from aloof idealists—magical research requires massive funding. Last year’s Intelligence Bureau report mentioned that nearly a third of the Royal Mage Association’s annual income comes from those signal towers…”

Hetty furrowed her brow. “You mean…”

“The newer arcane network communication technology is indeed more advanced than the old signal towers, but until the Tevinter people fully solve the cost issue, the gap between the two isn’t wide enough for the former to completely replace the latter. The arcane network works well, sure, but the signal towers are already laid out along all the major routes—they’re still usable… That’s the biggest contradiction,” Gavain said with a smile. “We conquered this land, abolished all the old nobility’s privileges, and built the arcane network from scratch. We don’t have to deal with that kind of contradiction. But Rosetta Augustus is pursuing a ‘peaceful reform’—Tevinter’s national communications don’t fully belong to the crown, nor entirely to the nobility, and certainly not solely to the mages. It’s a shared pie among all the powers, and that’s where the real problem lies.”

Hetty’s lips twitched slightly as she said softly, “Sounds like Emperor Rosetta is going to have a headache watching his council bicker beneath the Triple Spires again.”

But soon she shook her head, unable to help herself. “Still, no matter what, the Tevinter people have mastered a new technology. Their squabbling is only temporary; progress is inevitable—and they’re not fools. Rosetta Augustus is a smart man. They know what truly matters.”

“Yes, Tevinter will advance,” Gavain nodded. Then, after a brief pause, he added slowly, “But that’s not necessarily a bad thing…”

…

Deep within the cathedral of Luan, in the grand archive housing countless precious tomes, Archbishop Sevan Thery—clad in a simple white robe, without any crown or ornament—walked slowly between towering, ancient bookshelves. Around him, stewards and attendants in plain short robes bustled carefully, counting and recording the fragile scrolls, moving them in and out. Meanwhile, scribes had set up tables in the aisles, busily registering, copying, and cataloging the texts.

Classifying, preserving, and restoring these ancient books was a long, complex, and painstaking task—one that demanded immense patience and went largely unnoticed. This was the work that Sevan Thery, once a progressive priest of Luan, was undertaking today: the organization and restoration of the church’s treasured library.

Since receiving the order from the Cecil family, he had been engaged in this work for two full years.

(End of chapter)