Chapter 885: A Strange Topic

Perhaps it was the bluntness of Gawain’s answer that left the two seasoned senior agents momentarily stunned. It took a few seconds before Melita was the first to react. She blinked, uncertain, and asked, “You mean… you’re refusing?”

“Yes, refusing,” Gawain replied casually. “Is there something wrong with that answer?”

“…It’s just a bit unexpected,” Melita said, her tone strange. “Your reaction isn’t what we’d expect from an ordinary person. We were caught off guard.”

This only piqued Gawain’s curiosity. “Oh? And what would an ordinary person’s reaction be?”

“Faced with an invitation from a god, an ordinary person would either be ecstatic or filled with awe. Of course, you might have a stronger spirit than most, so you’d be calmer—but your level of calmness still far exceeds what we anticipated.”

“That’s because you told me myself that I could say no,” Gawain smiled lightly, relaxed and unbothered. “Honestly, I am curious about Talrond, but as the ruler of this nation, I can’t just drop everything for a sudden trip. The empire is finally on track, countless projects await my decisions, and I have many responsibilities. Meeting a god isn’t part of my plan. Please convey my apologies to your deity—at least for now, I can’t accept her invitation.”

Gawain wasn’t making excuses—though that was only part of the reason.

To be honest, the unexpected invitation genuinely surprised him. He had imagined how to advance relations with the dragons, but never in this way—Talrond actually has a god present in the mortal realm, and it seems this deity has lingered here for many years, long before this era of civilization. Gawain didn’t know why such a god would suddenly want to meet a mere mortal like himself, but one thing was certain: anything involving gods required extreme caution.

From Melita and Noretta’s reactions, the relationship between the dragons and their god seemed quite delicate. But at least this “Dragon God” was sane.

A mad god is terrifying, but a rational god doesn’t guarantee safety either.

Does this god know about the Rebellion Project? Does it know that Cecil restarted it? Has it lived through the ancient age of gods? Does it know about the Godslayer Fleet and the secrets behind it? Is it benevolent—or malevolent? All of this was unknown. And Gawain… was not so blindly confident as to fear nothing.

He had indeed prevented two god-level disasters and defeated two “gods,” directly or indirectly. But he knew well how much luck and coincidence had played a part. Even if his “satellite spirit” seemed to suppress or resist some divine powers, that didn’t mean he truly possessed the strength to stand against gods—at least not reliably. If he let two victories inflate his ego to think of himself as a “godslayer,” he might as well be digging his own grave.

So, with caution toward the Dragon God, basic prudence, and the fact that he simply couldn’t leave the empire for a distant trip to Talrond on a whim, Gawain had to decline the dragons’ invitation.

After turning down an invitation that was actually quite tempting, Gawain couldn’t help but exhale deeply, feeling a sense of clarity wash over him.

“You really aren’t ordinary,” Melita said, looking at him intently. After a two-second silence, she lowered her head and spoke solemnly, “We will convey your response to our god.”

Then Noretta spoke up, “Also, I want to confirm—based on what you said, you’re unable to go to Talrond ‘right now,’ not that you’re completely rejecting the invitation, correct?”

Gawain looked at her, hesitated for a few seconds, then nodded slightly. “If that god is truly magnanimous enough to tolerate a mortal’s whims, then perhaps one day in the future I will accept the invitation.”

Melita and Noretta exchanged a glance. Melita suddenly gave a faint, bitter smile and whispered, “…Our god is often very forgiving.”

Gawain was about to ask what she meant when Noretta suddenly stepped forward half a pace and bowed slightly. “Our mission is complete. We should take our leave.”

It seemed this was a question they couldn’t answer.

Gawain understood and didn’t press further. He nodded lightly and watched as Noretta closed the large ornate case that had held the “Guardian’s Shield” and bowed again. “Thank you for your cooperation. Your answers were very important to us.”

“Wait,” Gawain suddenly remembered something and spoke quickly before they left. “About that signal from last time…”

“It’s unrelated to Talrond,” Melita shook her head. She seemed about to say more but hesitated and shook her head again. “We can’t trace its source either.”

Gawain studied the two humanoid dragons quietly for a few seconds, then slowly nodded. “I understand.”

The two senior agents nodded in return and took their leave. Their presence quickly faded, and within minutes, Gawain lost all sense of them.

He stood there for a while, letting the swirling thoughts settle. When the chaotic speculations and ideas finally calmed, he exhaled and returned to his large desk, placing the heavy, ancient Guardian’s Shield on it.

Bathed in sunlight streaming through the window, the old shield’s surface shimmered faintly. The extra fittings added by his old pioneer comrades had long since rusted and crumbled, but beneath the corrosion, the metal plate that formed the shield’s core still gleamed as brightly as ever.

Gawain recalled how, back then, the expedition’s blacksmiths had tried every method to forge that metal but failed. With scarce resources and tools, they couldn’t even drill holes for handles. So the craftsmen resorted to the simplest, roughest solution—encasing the entire metal plate in layers of alloy fittings.

Now, after centuries of wear, those marks of countless hopes and efforts had finally decayed to this state.

Gawain pressed the call bell beside his desk. Moments later, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor. Betty entered. “Your Majesty, you called?”

“Is Hetty here?”

Betty thought for a moment, then nodded. “She is, but she’ll be heading to the Council of State soon.”

“Have her come to me first.”

…

Outside Cecil City, near a sparsely inhabited forest on the outskirts, Melita and Noretta appeared in a clearing, accompanied by a gust of wind.

The two senior agents stepped forward a few paces, confirming no one else was around. Then Noretta relaxed her grip, and the ornate metal case she’d been holding dropped to the ground. She exchanged a glance with Melita, and in that brief moment, they seemed to communicate silently.

The next second, they both staggered forward, unable to support themselves, and half-kneeling on the ground.

A tearing, soul-deep pain surged through them. Their strong bodies began to betray them with strange symptoms. Noretta’s skin suddenly erupted with glowing, fiery patterns; faint dragon scales spread from her cheeks across her body. Behind Melita, a shadowy, illusory layer rose, massive phantom dragon wings unfurling to blot out the sky. Countless shadows, as if possessing their own will, surged from their sides, struggling to break free and soar upward.

This terrifying transformation lasted a full ten minutes before the spiritual backlash finally began to subside. Noretta gasped for breath, sweat dripping from her face. She barely regained control of her body and slowly stood, reaching out to help the more debilitated Melita.

Melita looked up at her, trying to stand, but her body wavered, and she vomited with a groan.

Her insides were still convulsing.

Noretta’s face showed sympathy at her friend’s suffering. She quietly stepped aside and turned her face away.

Half a minute later, the ordeal finally calmed. Noretta turned back and scrutinized Melita. “Are you alright?”

Melita muttered, “…I don’t want to talk right now.”

Noretta looked at her with pity. “Are you still going to wear that ridiculous-looking veil?”

Melita: “…(Talrond curse, in abundance).”

Noretta was taken aback by her friend’s fierce attitude and stepped back half a pace, raising her hands in surrender. Melita finally exhaled deeply. After calming down a bit, she furrowed her brows hard and opened her mouth, unleashing a blinding blaze—her fiery dragon breath instantly incinerated the unsightly evidence left behind.

Then she looked at Noretta with deep regret that she couldn’t silence her.

Noretta seemed unaffected by the tangible resentment radiating from Melita. She took several deep breaths to further heal herself, then, still shaken, said, “You deal with that Gawain Cecil often… Is talking to him really that dangerous?”

“Almost every time he says ‘I want to talk,’ it’s a life-or-death situation,” Melita said with a blank stare. “Do you know how nervous I get whenever he says he has a question? I’ve even sketched out my own tomb design in my mind…”

“Terrifying, really,” Noretta sighed from experience, recalling the recent incident at the Mithril Treasury headquarters in Talrond—where even the Andar Speaker was subjected to a god’s gaze, a terrifying look apparently triggered by a signal brought back from Gawain Cecil.

“I have a bad feeling,” the white dragon lady frowned, “if I keep running around this human empire with you, I’m bound to be ‘spoken to death’ by some careless remark from that pioneer hero. It’s hard to imagine I’d be bold enough to casually discuss gods with outsiders, or even seek out forbidden knowledge…”

“Put your worries aside. After this, you’ll return to a support role in the rear,” Melita glanced at her friend, then shifted her gaze to the ornate case lying on the ground, crafted from precious magical materials. “For now, we should collect our payment for this extremely risky mission…”

As she spoke, she moved over to the chest and began prying the gems and crystals off it with her fingers. While working, she called out, “Come help me out here. Later, we’ll melt down the frame too. Tsk, it’s a shame this thing’s so flashy—it’s not easy to sell as is. Otherwise, selling it whole would definitely be worth more than breaking it apart…”

Bai Long Noretta hesitated before joining her friend, a hint of conflict in her voice. “Are you sure about this? This chest was originally meant to—”

“Hey, if you don’t say it, who will? I sold that box last time too. Let me tell you, being on duty out there isn’t like supporting from Talrond. The risks are higher, the conditions worse, and you can’t even get proper rest. If you don’t find ways to make some extra money, you won’t get by…”

Noretta’s eyes twitched twice. She wanted to scold her loudly (the rest is omitted)… but instead, she came over and joined in.

…

“Ancestor, you called for me?”

Hetty stepped into Gawain’s study, curiosity in her voice. But the next moment, her gaze was drawn to the striking object on the desk.

“Ancestor, this is…”

Her eyes widened as she pointed at the Guardian’s Shield resting on the table. Her voice trembled slightly—

As a member of the Cecil family, she could never mistake what it was. She had seen it countless times in the family’s heirloom books and in portraits passed down by elders. The Guardian’s Shield, lost over a century ago, was once considered the source of the family’s disgrace—and the heavy burden each generation of Cecils bore. One after another, the heirs had sworn to reclaim this treasure, but none had succeeded. She never dreamed the shield would one day suddenly appear before her—right here, on the ancestor’s desk.

“The Guardian’s Shield of the Kingdom of Ansu,” Gawain said with a satisfied smile, enjoying Hetty’s astonished expression. “Today is a day to celebrate. The shield has been found—thanks to the dragons.”

“The dragons…” Hetty felt the dizziness slowly fade. She took a deep breath and stepped closer, studying the shield carefully. “It really is it… it really is?”

“Of course. I’m not about to mistake my own belongings,” Gawain chuckled. “You look even more excited than I am.”

“Ancestor, you probably don’t understand… this lost shield means more to us descendants than you can imagine,” Hetty said, barely able to contain her excitement. “The Cecil family’s fall from grace began with the loss of this shield. Generation after generation of descendants have wanted to restore our ancestor’s honor. Rebecca and I have even sworn before your portrait to find it…”

“Ahem,” Gawain suddenly coughed twice. “You actually have that kind of tradition?”

Hetty quickly composed herself, sensing the odd atmosphere. She glanced at the ancestor who had stepped out of the portrait into reality and awkwardly lowered her head. “It’s… a very normal noble custom. We do many things before your portrait as a witness—important family decisions, coming-of-age vows, major family events…”

“Alright, you don’t have to say more,” Gawain interrupted, feeling the topic was getting too strange. “I’m guessing when Gruman took the shield from my tomb, he probably gave me a heads-up too—maybe even knocked on my coffin lid. Though it’s not really appropriate for me to say this myself, that’s just a ridiculous excuse. So let’s drop this subject.”

“Y-yes, Ancestor,” Hetty replied.

(End of chapter)