Chapter 930: A Warning

After hearing the report from Head Maid Diana, Rosetta’s already stern and somber expression seemed to darken even further. Yet he said nothing more, simply replying calmly, “Understood. Thank you for your hard work. You may go.”

Diana nodded gracefully, stepping back half a pace before fading away into a shimmering distortion field.

“Father,” Matilda couldn’t help but look at her father, “are the intelligence reports Diana mentioned… reliable?”

“Diana wouldn’t make mistakes on matters like this—unless the War God’s Church has woven a web so vast it blinds all royal informants,” Rosetta answered evenly.

“So the War God’s Church really is in deep trouble, and Malm Dunit is deliberately hiding things from us…” Matilda’s voice was tinged with complexity, a shadow of sorrow evident in her tone. “The entire Grant Cathedral is keeping secrets from us…”

“Malm is, before being your elder and my friend, first and foremost the Pope of the War God. So before loyalty to the crown or to friends, his primary allegiance is to his deity,” Rosetta said calmly, as if he had long anticipated this. “Any devout believer would act the same… When divine authority and royal power coexist and their interests clash, this is inevitable.”

Matilda sensed there was more meaning behind her father’s words, but before she could ask, he suddenly changed the subject: “You haven’t appeared at the council yet, have you?”

“Not yet,” Matilda replied, recalling the rest of her schedule for the day and the council sessions she needed to attend. “I’m about to go.”

“Go early—restraint is the dignity of the royal family. Being late is unacceptable.”

Matilda glanced at her father but said nothing, bowing slightly as she stepped back. “Yes, Father.”

The garden fell silent once more. Matilda’s presence faded, leaving only Rosetta Augustus standing quietly beneath the pine trees. The ruler of Typhon lowered his gaze to a flowerbed before him—a bed that was not thriving. Though the precious plants stretched their branches as best they could, signs of poor growth were clearly visible.

“Diana,” Rosetta suddenly spoke to the empty air beside him, “what do you think of Matilda?”

A faint ripple of magic stirred, and the black-haired maid appeared silently, having never truly left but concealed by her mastery of aura control—so much so that even the perceptive Matilda had not noticed.

The head maid bowed her head respectfully. “I should not comment on Your Majesty’s offspring.”

“Since when did you learn human hypocrisy?” Rosetta raised an eyebrow, a faint smile playing on his lips. “This isn’t a public occasion, and you’ve watched Matilda grow up with your own eyes.”

Diana was silent for less than two seconds before answering, “As a human, Matilda is gifted—intelligent, with a sharpness beyond her years. She adapts well to new ideas emerging in recent years, and wields considerable influence among the lower nobility and rising elites of the empire. But she hasn’t managed to control the conservatives well. In that regard, she’s clearly less skilled than you.”

“A common flaw of youth—she’s not good at hiding her leanings,” Rosetta nodded. “I bear some responsibility. I’ve been too focused on governing the state and building my order, neglecting to cultivate Matilda and Hadrian to their full potential. If not for their own diligence, their precious talents would have been wasted.”

“‘Cultivation’ alone can’t make a human fully mature. Experience must be gained and understood individually,” Diana said bluntly. “You yourself received little formal training before becoming emperor, yet you’ve proven far superior to those carefully ‘manufactured’ heirs.”

Rosetta was silent for a moment, then shook his head with a smile. “Only you would dare say such things outright.”

“That’s because it’s the truth, and it serves the interests of the realm,” Diana replied softly, her tone steady and unemotional. “Which is why I don’t understand the choices made by Prince Malik and Dukes Fabro and Colmaroni back then.”

“Because humans aren’t machines. We’re unpredictable. Expecting humans to always remain rational is a luxury,” Rosetta said, shaking his head gently. Then, fixing his gaze on the black-haired maid, his expression grew serious. “You will still serve the next ruler of Typhon, won’t you?”

“As long as I can continue to serve,” Diana answered meticulously. “That contract was established when the ancestors of the Augustus family took me in and provided necessary maintenance.”

“I trust that contract. In this regard, you’re far more reliable than humans,” Rosetta smiled faintly, then waved his hand. “Enough of that. Tell me about the recent rumors circulating in the city. Anything worth noting?”

“Nothing significant among the common folk,” the maid said, “but starting two days ago, the Mage Association reported some unusual occurrences. The mages say that when they prayed to the Magic Goddess, something was wrong—their prayers went unanswered. It seems the Magic Goddess’s last thread of attention to the mortal world has vanished.”

“The Magic Goddess?” Rosetta frowned. “Now even the Magic Goddess is having problems…”

He glanced at Diana. “What is Miss Windsor Mapple doing?”

“She’s gathering feedback from the mages and organizing personnel for tests. Since the mages don’t form a religious order, it’s hard to determine who should investigate the Magic Goddess’s anomaly. Ultimately, she will probably report to you.”

Rosetta’s expression darkened, serious and grave. As Diana finished speaking, he fell into deep thought. At that moment, a new presence entered the royal garden.

Diana looked toward the source of the life sign. Moments later, a senior attendant in a dark blue tunic appeared at the end of the cobblestone path.

“Your Majesty,” the attendant bowed to Rosetta Augustus. “A ‘direct line message’ from the Cecil Empire, bearing the royal seal.”

“Direct line message?” Rosetta’s face grew stern. “Bring it here.”

The direct line message was a new invention, emerging only after Matilda’s diplomatic mission to Cecil had deepened relations between the two nations and modern communication technology had advanced. Unlike the old “letters of state” that required lengthy delivery and complex diplomatic procedures—sometimes taking months—the direct line message relied on Cecil’s magical network and Typhon’s transmission towers to deliver letters swiftly.

A message sent from the source would be automatically relayed through layers of magical network nodes or transmission tower nodes, requiring minimal human intervention to reach its destination quickly. Including the necessary manual relay and final printing and delivery, the entire process took less than an hour—a conceptual leap in communication efficiency compared to the past.

Rosetta took the letter from the attendant. It was a “copy” printed less than half an hour ago at the Obsidian Palace’s transmission tower, the paper still faintly smelling of ink. The royal shield of Typhon was embossed at the top, with the Cecil royal emblem at the bottom.

The ruler of Typhon recalled his previous discussion with Windsor and Daniel about the new communication technology. Technically, communication between Typhon and Cecil could be even faster—if only the redundant human steps were eliminated and the transmission towers fully upgraded, the two rulers might even speak directly with no delay. Such a miracle was feasible with magical technology, but the conservative nobles and traditional mages who controlled most of the transmission tower’s profits were the only obstacles.

Today’s main council agenda was about upgrading communication technology—just like yesterday’s meeting, today’s debate would likely end without resolution.

Gentle discussions and votes couldn’t resolve the conflict over old and new interests. The only ways to silence the old powers were either to wait for them to die or to crush them under the wheels of progress—and keep rolling.

Rosetta hoped the young Matilda would realize this clearly after facing the chaotic council.

He shook his head, pushing unrelated thoughts aside. His eyes scanned the letter’s text, and after reading just two lines, his brow furrowed instinctively.

The letter was personally signed by Gawain Cecil, and its content was blunt:

“To my neighbor and friend, I have recently learned of some deeply troubling developments that may even affect distant Typhon. My mages report that the seat of the Magic Goddess appears to have vanished…”

Rosetta took a slow breath and glanced at the attendant standing by. The attendant immediately understood and silently bowed before retreating from the garden. Rosetta then resumed reading:

“This may be a sign of a large-scale event about to erupt. As neighboring lands with close ties, I believe it is necessary to share intelligence on such matters—not only for the sake of our friendly relations but for the future of humanity as a whole…

“The mages of Cecil have conducted a series of attempts and technical investigations. My advisors have a grim hypothesis: they believe the Magic Goddess may have fallen for some unknown reason. This sounds incredible, but we know something similar happened three thousand years ago when the White Star fell, and the Druids lost their ‘deity’…

“The mages will continue their investigations, and I hope Typhon will take this seriously. The faith in deities is not confined to one nation or place; it spans all mortals and influences the order of the mortal world…”

Rosetta’s eyes moved further down, and the following content made his gaze sharpen:

“Furthermore, alongside the Magic Goddess’s anomaly, priests and clerics of the War God have reported abnormal phenomena. In some ways, their reports are even more disturbing than the disappearance of the Magic Goddess…

“Many War God clergy have suffered from mental disturbances—tormented repeatedly by violent hallucinations and voices. The more they pray to the War God for protection, the worse these mental afflictions become, as if the torment itself comes from the War God…

“These matters are normally internal to the church, but with anomalies striking both the Magic Goddess and the War God, I cannot help but be concerned…”

“We all know that during the Ansu Civil War, the fanatical Dark Cultists once unleashed an uncontrollable god. I hesitate to speak blasphemy, but this incident proved that ‘divine power’ isn’t as purely benevolent as mortals tend to believe. It can also become terrifyingly violent. And now, I fear certain forces are brewing something similar… The ‘Divine Calamity’ that once struck the Holy Spirit Plains may be on the verge of repeating itself. What’s even more dangerous than the dark druids’ abominable gods are the Goddess of Magic and the God of War—especially the latter—who still command immense faith and influence in our time…

“My friend, by the time you read this letter, I will be preparing to issue warnings to the neighboring nations. But I believe Typhon should be the most vigilant of all, for reasons that need no explanation…

“If you agree, I am willing to share some of the experiences and effective protective measures the Cecils used to combat the ‘Divine Calamity’ on the Holy Spirit Plains. Of course, no one wishes for such a disaster to recur; this is merely a precaution…

“Your neighbor, Gawain Cecil.”

Rosetta’s eyes lingered on the signature at the end of the letter. After a few seconds of silence, he let out a deep sigh.

Diana stood quietly nearby, showing no sign of curiosity about the letter’s contents.

“A timely warning,” Rosetta murmured to himself. “‘Divine Calamity’… what a fitting term.”

Diana’s voice came softly from beside him. “Your Majesty, shall I summon Duke Ferdinand for a consultation?”

Rosetta nodded. “Yes, have Duke Ferdinand come at once. I’ll meet him in the study.”

He turned to leave the garden, but just as he was about to step away, he paused and glanced at the dwarf pine beside the flowerbed.

That tree had been sick for years, its incurable disease now beginning to affect the growth of the surrounding plants.

“Also, tell the gardener to cut it down.”

(End of chapter)