Chapter 886: New Rules

The awkward topic finally came to an end, and both Gawain and Hetty felt a wave of relief wash over them. Their attention soon returned to the Shield of the Pioneer resting quietly on the table.

This legendary shield lay there, its weathered and corroded metal surface encasing a nearly pristine alloy core that shimmered faintly with a silvery glow. Sunlight caught the metallic parts, casting a subtle gleam that seemed to hold centuries of history within it. Hetty stared at it for a long moment, lost in thought, before clearing her throat softly to break the silence. “Ancestor, how do you plan to announce this?”

If it had been Hetty a few years ago, her first reaction upon seeing the Shield of the Guardian would have been one of family pride—this treasure had returned to the Cecil vaults, a symbol of restored honor and influence. But years had changed her. Without needing Gawain’s prompting, she already knew how to maximize the value of this long-lost relic.

“We’ll publicly state that our dragon allies helped us recover the shield,” Gawain said casually, “but nothing more official than that. Let the media and public opinion take their course. The Intelligence Bureau should keep an eye on things, but that’s all.”

“Understood, Ancestor,” Hetty nodded, then couldn’t help but glance back at the shield. “I really never expected… it would just come back like this.”

“During the war, this shield was a vital asset to the expeditionary forces—many lives depended on it. But that era is over,” Gawain shook his head gently, his tone calm and low. “Now, it’s just a shield. Its symbolic meaning might bring us some benefits, but that’s all.”

Hetty looked at him thoughtfully. “You don’t want people to focus too much on the return of the ‘Kingdom’s Guardian,’ do you?”

“We have far more important and practical matters to attend to,” Gawain replied offhandedly. “Besides, overemphasizing the ‘Kingdom’s Guardian’ could reignite the old knightly orders and fallen nobility’s obsession with noble bloodlines and family honor. Society might slip back into worshipping aristocratic pomp and the idea of ‘bloodline justice.’ We’ve worked hard to suppress that, and we must prevent its resurgence. So, the government office will only do the bare minimum in terms of publicity and positive guidance on this matter.”

Hetty immediately bowed her head deeply. “Yes, I understand.”

Gawain hummed in acknowledgment and let the topic drop. After a moment’s thought, he asked casually, “How’s the observatory project Kamail applied for coming along?”

“You mean the Paramel Observatory?” Hetty blinked, quickly organizing the information in her mind. “The project has passed government review and construction has begun. The first batch of technicians arrived at the Paramel Highlands last week, and progress is going smoothly. Also, the initial resident scholars have been selected. The observatory’s director will be Archmage Morgan Hugo.”

Gawain recalled the name. “Morgan… I remember he was a royal mage from Saint Sunil.”

“Yes. Master Morgan is a member of the old Saint Sunil Royal Mage Association and the Astrologers’ Guild. For decades, he served as an advisor on astrology to the former royal family. He’s an expert in astrology, celestial measurement, and planetary studies. He once calculated the approximate distance between our planet and the sun and accurately predicted two asteroid flybys. His knowledge is trustworthy. After the Siege of Saint Sunil, the old royal observatory was severely damaged and never fully restored. So this ‘star expert’ accepted Master Kamail’s invitation to come south. When he heard about the new modern observatory planned for the Paramel Highlands, he volunteered immediately.”

“Scholars like him are treasures of the Empire. We must treat him well,” Gawain nodded as he listened. “Also, we can allocate additional funds for the Paramel Observatory. Kamail identified that location as one of the Empire’s best ‘windows’ to the stars. The sooner it’s operational, the better.”

“Understood,” Hetty responded promptly. Then she glanced at Gawain with a faint smile. “Ancestor, you really do value Kamail’s plans for these observatories and star studies.”

Gawain’s mind drifted back to his earlier conversations with Melita and Noretta, recalling the Viplandon Observatory and the glorious technology of old Gondor. Though many of those memories weren’t his own, the regret and awe that seeped through them filled his heart. He sighed softly and looked at Hetty with solemnity. “Research into the stars is important. While it may not yield the immediate economic benefits of railways or mines, in the long run, it could give rise to technologies that change the world. Even without considering those distant possibilities, curiosity about the unknown and the faraway is the greatest driving force behind mortal progress. Hetty, the most mysterious and secret-filled place in this world lies right above our heads—in the starry sky.”

“I understand,” Hetty smiled, her eyes bright with happiness. “Ancestor, don’t forget—I’m a mage too. Though I can’t immerse myself in research like before, I’m still a mage, and mages are the most passionate explorers of the unknown.”

Gawain looked at Hetty’s smiling face, and after a few seconds, he smiled back.

“In ancient Gondor, humanity was already fascinated by the stars. Observatories and star-watching stations dotted the best ‘windows’ across the land. Our scholars observed the cosmos through natural channels woven by magical ripples in the atmosphere, seeking the secrets of our world. It was a brilliant and thrilling age… but before it could truly flourish, the magical tide wiped it all away.

“Now, perhaps it’s time to turn some of our gaze back to the stars.”

…

Clad in a gold-and-crimson robe, Malm Dunit lowered his eyelids, hands folded over his chest. The golden beads and amulets wrapped around his wrists glimmered faintly in the candlelight.

As he prayed devoutly to the God of War, his mind gradually calmed. The faint, almost imperceptible voice filled with boundless knowledge slowly faded away. The burly, robust old man opened his eyes and looked at Matilda Augustus standing before him.

“Your Highness, on behalf of the Church, I thank the royal family for their support of this year’s War God Festival and their unwavering protection of the faithful,” he said in a deep, powerful voice. “May the War God watch over you and your family, and may the glorious House of Augustus forever stand firm on this blessed land.”

“Supporting the Church’s operations within the Empire is the duty of the House of Augustus. Protecting the Empire’s people is our inherent responsibility,” Matilda replied with a slight nod, her tone polite and respectful but measured. “The War God Church is the most influential religious institution in Typhon. You wield great influence over tens of thousands of Tiphonese. Our Emperor hopes you will continue to guide the faithful rightly, keeping them on the proper path.”

Malm Dunit smiled calmly and nodded slightly. “That is the duty and responsibility the Lord has entrusted to me.”

Beneath the solemn iron spires, the Great War Cathedral was brightly lit. Thick white candles flickered like stars in the wall niches, illuminating this sacred hall dedicated to the War God. The annual War God Festival was approaching—the grandest religious celebration in this nation, where the War God faith was the dominant sect. As the royal representative, Matilda had brought gifts and a letter personally penned by the Emperor, completing the customary ceremonial visit.

Once all formalities were done, Matilda allowed herself a small sigh of relief. She glanced around the imposing, somewhat oppressive cathedral, noting that the bishops and priests had already left in order. Then she turned back to the War God Pope and nodded. “This year’s festival should be even grander than before. The economy is improving, wealthy citizens have more to spend on celebrations, and many from the surrounding countryside have gathered in Alden.”

“A predictable scene of prosperity,” Malm Dunit nodded. “The Church will maintain order. We won’t allow anything that embarrasses the royal family.”

Matilda smiled faintly. “Of course. My father and I both trust you on that—you’ve always been a friend to the House of Augustus.”

“Personal friendship, I know, personal friendship,” Malm’s usually stern face softened after seeing her smile. The sturdy old man, once a military chaplain, chuckled lightly with a teasing tone. “But you won’t be coming to accept my baptism.”

“No member of the House of Augustus has accepted baptism from any other church,” Matilda smiled, spreading her hands. “I think that’s how we maintain balance in religious matters—we don’t have just one church.”

“…Rosetta has been using that line on me for years. Now it’s your turn,” Malm said with a helpless glance, then changed the subject. “Enough about that. Matilda, before you leave, would you tell me about your experiences in Cecil?”

“Of course. I still have some time,” Matilda nodded, then looked at the old pope with a hint of curiosity. “But why the sudden interest in my time in Cecil? You’ve never cared much about matters outside the Church.”

“…Even those who dwell indoors eventually hear thunder,” Malm said slowly. “And lately, there’s been more and more about Cecil in this city. Various reports have even reached the Great Cathedral. Even if I don’t care, I’ve heard and seen them.”

“That’s true…” Matilda sighed softly. “The age of economic exchange… information flows differently now.”

“But just over a year ago, things were completely different,” Malm shook his head. “We were at daggers drawn with Cecil. Almost everyone expected war. Countless war priests were ready. The Great Cathedral even lit incense and oils dedicated to the War God in advance—then, peace came suddenly.”

“Do you regret that?” Matilda asked seriously, looking at the War God Pope.

Malm looked at the “Jewel of the Empire” before him. His aged but still vigorous face broke into a smile.

“Your Highness, I am a servant of the God of War, but that doesn’t make me a warmonger. We serve the order and fairness of war, not a world constantly engulfed in conflict. Admittedly, I lean toward the pro-war faction myself, but I recognize that a prosperous and stable situation benefits the people far more. Still, this sudden ‘peace’ has caught many of us off guard… I’m somewhat stunned, and many of the bishops and priests who have prepared for war share that feeling.”

“That’s understandable,” Matilda nodded gently, her tone full of empathy and agreement. “After all, the war god’s clergy have always been a vital part of the imperial army, and this ‘peace’ has truly taken everyone by surprise…” She paused thoughtfully for a few seconds, then slowly shook her head. “But from my perspective, calling it a ‘peaceful situation’ isn’t quite accurate.”

The burly pope raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“We’ve only avoided a bloody war, but a war without bloodshed may still be ongoing,” Matilda said earnestly. “That’s the consensus among the parliament and the royal advisory council—we will compete with the Cecilians for markets, for influence and voice on the continent. We’ll measure ourselves against them in literacy rates, city sizes, and investments and achievements in technology. We’ve sheathed our swords, but a more comprehensive competition has begun: economic, political, technological… and all of it ultimately serves national interests.

“My father, the emperor, told me this is still a war—a war without swords or bloodshed, without the sounds of battle, but one that never stops for a single moment. Only this war is called peace, and on the surface, people see nothing but prosperity—at least until the two great beasts decide a victor.”

Malm Duniet listened quietly to Matilda’s words, his deep brown eyes heavy with thought. He seemed to be pondering, yet his face betrayed no emotion.

After a moment, he placed his hands back over his chest and softly recited the name of the God of War, his mood gradually settling.

“You should understand what I mean,” Matilda said, looking at the venerable elder before her. Though the Augustus family traditionally kept a respectful distance from all deities, this esteemed man had been a longtime friend of the family. She had received much kindness from him during her childhood, so she was willing to speak more openly. She knew that despite his stern and traditional demeanor, he was a sharp and insightful thinker who would grasp her meaning immediately.

“War has always been present; only its form and scope have changed,” she concluded with a nod.

“Thought-provoking,” Malm Duniet said after a brief silence, nodding deeply. “It’s a perspective I had never considered.”

Matilda smiled faintly. “I hope you don’t mind me sharing such weighty thoughts in your presence.”

He returned her smile with a look of affectionate indulgence, like an elder toward a younger relative. “Of course not.”

(End of chapter)