Chapter 939: Journey to Talrond

After Heddy and Bertram left, only Gawain and Duchess Victoria remained in the study. Amber had been there at first, but the moment Gawain announced that the formal discussion was over, she vanished—most likely darting off to the nearest tavern nearby. If she hadn’t stepped on a mousetrap along the way, she was probably already clutching a beer and happily knocking back drink after drink.

Victoria returned to Gawain’s desk, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Have you forgotten what I mentioned earlier?” Gawain smiled, stood up, and opened a small cabinet beside the desk. He took out a sturdy, finely crafted wooden box and handed it to Victoria, unlatching the clasp on the lid. “Returning what belongs to its rightful owner.”

Victoria immediately guessed what was inside. She inhaled softly, then carefully lifted the lid. Inside, resting on a velvet lining, lay a thick, weathered book with a mottled, aged cover and yellowed, slightly curled pages.

The ink on the pages had long since dried, yet the moment the lid opened, Victoria thought she faintly caught the scent of ink—perhaps a trick of her imagination, or maybe the lingering aroma of the restorative potions used by the bookbinder. Her usually impassive, ice-like face flickered with emotion; her crystalline eyes reflected a complex mix of nostalgia and joy.

“This is… the long-lost travelogue of our family…” she murmured almost to herself.

“This is the restored Modir’s Travels,” Gawain nodded. “Originally, it had been carelessly pieced together by a clumsy editor, mixed with fragments from other incomplete volumes. But now it’s been fully restored, containing only the precious notes left by Modir Wilde himself.”

He paused, then added, “That said, the travelogue is still incomplete—after all, it’s over six centuries old, and it likely passed through more than one owner. Some chapters have been lost. I estimate at least a quarter of the content is missing, and it’s unlikely we’ll ever recover those parts. I hope you understand.”

“This is already remarkable, Your Majesty,” Victoria said immediately, a rare spark of excitement in her eyes. “The book has been lost for so long, I never imagined it would be found in my lifetime. This means so much to our family. The Wyldes will forever remember your kindness!”

“Then I graciously accept your thanks,” Gawain smiled, then shifted tone. “But along with returning the book, there’s something else I need to tell you—something about the travelogue.”

“About the travelogue?” Victoria’s curiosity deepened, but noticing the seriousness in his gaze, she quickly composed herself. “Of course, please go ahead.”

“There’s a section in the book that shouldn’t be made public,” Gawain said, pointing to the travelogue in Victoria’s hands. “You’ll notice a bookmark inside—open to that page. The following twenty-seven pages contain the restricted content. It records a special adventure Modir Wilde undertook—an expedition near the Dragonlands.”

“The Dragonlands?!” Even Victoria, usually composed, couldn’t help but let out a small exclamation. “You mean Talrond?!”

“Yes, Talrond. That’s where I’m planning to go this time,” Gawain nodded. “Of course, my journey to Talrond has nothing to do with Modir Wilde’s adventure six centuries ago.”

Victoria nodded, then couldn’t resist asking, “Why can’t that part of the travelogue be made public?”

“During his adventure, Modir came into contact with certain secrets of the Northern Seas—taboos that are dangerous not only to dragons but to humans as well. I’ve already discussed this with the dragon emissaries,” Gawain patiently explained. “Once you read it yourself, you’ll understand. In short, I’ve reached an agreement with the dragons: the corresponding chapters won’t be disseminated publicly. Of course, as Modir Wilde’s descendant, you have the right to know and to inherit the knowledge he left behind.”

“Inherit, but not share,” Victoria said shrewdly. From Gawain’s solemn attitude, she realized that her ancestor’s legacy was more than just a strange adventure. If both the dragons and this legendary hero treated it as a dangerous taboo, it was something everyone should handle with utmost caution. She felt no discomfort about the prior agreement between Gawain and the dragons regarding Modir’s Travels. Instead, she nodded seriously. “Rest assured, I will keep your warning close to heart.”

“Good,” Gawain nodded slightly. “This trip to Talrond is, for me, a response to the Dragon God’s invitation. But if the opportunity arises, I’ll try to investigate those things Modir encountered back then. If I find anything, I’ll report back to you.”

“Thank you very much,” Victoria bowed her head sincerely. “But please, take great care of yourself. If those secrets truly pose a great danger to humanity, it’s better we don’t meddle with them.”

Gawain gave a short affirmative hum, indicating he would exercise caution. He didn’t elaborate on concepts like the Voyagers, the Northern Spires, or the ancient Rebellion of the Tide—he himself wasn’t fully certain about those matters, and throwing unverified information at Victoria would only confuse her. As for himself… this journey to Talrond was precisely to resolve those mysteries.

…

Inside the newly expanded cathedral of Cecil City—the new headquarters of the Holy Light Church—the simple main hall was not yet open to the public.

Several thick pillars supported the circular great prayer hall. The high dome above was inlaid with a holy light emblem made of magical crystal lamps. Rows of neat, clean pews filled the space, bathed in a faint yet warm glow of holy light that slowly pulsed. A small figure, seemingly forged from light itself, darted swiftly among the pews and pillars, clearly in high spirits.

Veronica, holding a platinum scepter, stood at the pulpit at the front of the hall. Her eyes were gently closed, head bowed, as if in silent prayer.

The towering Archbishop Light stood on the pulpit before her. The grand archbishop wore a simple white robe for everyday wear, his gaze calm and gentle. A faint glow drifted slowly beside him. Behind him, where the old church would have placed a statue of a deity, there was now only a crystal screen resembling a lens. Sunlight from outside passed through a complex array of crystals, refracted, and finally filled the screen with a soft radiance that illuminated the entire pulpit.

The new Holy Light Church no longer required a specific deity as an idol. The sunlight brought in through the lens symbolized the church’s new philosophy—sunlight is one of the most impartial things in the world. Regardless of noble or commoner, man or woman, young or old, everyone living on this land is equally bathed in sunlight. No one has the right to deny this right, just as no one can take away the holy light within each person’s heart.

“It’s rare to see you praying here,” Light said, lowering his head to look at the “Holy Maiden Princess” before him. “And you even called me here specifically.”

To outsiders, Veronica was the very embodiment of “holy devotion.” From the old church era to the new, this Holy Maiden Princess always radiated an image of devout faith and embrace of the holy light. She was always praying, always surrounded by a glow, as if faith had become part of her very being. But those who knew the truth understood that this was all a carefully crafted persona by this ancient rebel.

In reality, she was probably one of the least faithful people in the world. She had never truly followed the Holy Light God, nor did she genuinely embrace the holy light—the glow that always surrounded her was merely a technological effect from the Gondor era. Her apparent piety was a shield to avoid the backlash of the Mind Seal and the Holy Light God—strictly speaking, that too was a technological measure.

So, without others around or a pressing need, Veronica never prayed—only Light, Gawain, and a few others knew this.

“I’m about to follow His Majesty to Talrond soon,” Veronica ended her prayer and looked up at the archbishop. “It’s very far from here.”

“You don’t strike me as someone who seeks guidance or comfort for something like this,” Light said slowly. “Is there something you need my help with?”

Veronica looked at Light quietly for a few seconds, then nodded gently and handed over the platinum scepter she never parted with. “I need you to keep this safe until I return with His Majesty.”

“…This scepter?” Light was clearly surprised, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you’d take it with you to Talrond—you never leave it behind.”

“Talrond is too far,” Veronica said. “My control over the scepter weakens when I’m far from the Loren continent. Although, in theory, the Holy Light God wouldn’t actively watch over this place, we must be cautious. Thanks to recent reforms in doctrine and the various parishes, the flow of faith has begun to shift. The ‘bridge’ between god and man is no longer as dangerous as before. But this scepter remains uncontrollable by ordinary people. Only you… can hold it safely for an extended time without being affected by the Mind Seal.”

Control over the scepter weakens far from Loren?

Light caught the key phrase but only glanced at Veronica and chose not to press further. This ancient rebel held many secrets, and unless she chose to reveal them, no one could force her. After all, even His Majesty’s relationship with her was one of cooperation; others had no right to pry into the “Princess’s” affairs.

The archbishop shook his head and reached out to take the scepter.

It was just a heavy, slightly warm staff. Apart from the holy light power it radiated, Light sensed nothing else.

“Anything I should be aware of?” he asked.

Veronica nodded. “You don’t have to hold it constantly, but keep it within a hundred meters at all times. And while you’re not holding it, no one else may touch it—otherwise, the ‘bridge’ will immediately link to the new contact, drawing the Holy Light God’s gaze to the mortal world. Also, one very important thing…”

Light’s expression grew serious as he listened intently.

“When you take the young priests into the mountains for training, try not to use it as a weapon. Bring a regular warhammer instead,” Veronica said calmly. “After all, it’s an ancient artifact.”

Light: “…Honestly, it’s not very effective as a weapon anyway. It’s a bit too light.”

Clearly, both were taking this matter very seriously.

Then Light looked up, glancing at the sunlight streaming through the crystal windows into the chapel. He said to Veronica, “It’s getting late. The chapel only closes for half a day today. I need to prepare for the afternoon sermon. Do you want to stay and pray a little longer? It’ll take about half an hour to get out of here.”

Veronica lowered her head slightly. “You go ahead, High Pontiff. I still have some things to think over here.”

Light nodded and turned toward the exit of the prayer hall. As he walked, he waved toward the pews opposite the pulpit. “Let’s go, Emily!”

A radiant figure peeked out from between the benches and called back happily before slipping into the gentle, shimmering holy light behind Light. Together, they left the prayer hall.

The vast hall was left with only Veronica, standing quietly before the pulpit.

The “Princess of the Holy Light” closed her eyes slightly and bowed her head, like a devout worshiper facing the wooden pulpit. No one could tell what she was thinking. After several minutes of silence, she slowly raised her head.

The holy light that usually flickered endlessly in her eyes seemed dimmer than usual.

Then, a soft murmur broke the stillness, as if she were speaking to herself:

“Initiate Class II safety partition protocol.

“Memory and personality database commencing remote synchronization…

“Preparing to enter offline mode…

“We wish ourselves luck, and look forward to the observational data from Talrond.

“Personality data backed up. Ophelia—Patrol Unit—entering offline operation.”

…

Three days after the “Divine Funeral” of the Goddess of Magic, all arrangements had been made.

In the courtyard square on the west side of Castle Cecile, Melita Pernia appeared before Gawain as promised.

Since this was not an official diplomatic event and there was no public announcement, few had come to see them off. Aside from the three Grant Magistrates and the necessary guards, only a handful of senior officials from the Administrative Council were present.

“I thought more people would come,” Melita said with a faint smile as she looked at Gawain. “This doesn’t feel like a proper imperial send-off.”

“Ceremonies are for show—there’s no need for a big public display this time,” Gawain replied casually, glancing at Melita, who had come alone. “Now I’m curious how we’re going to get to Talrond… You’re taking us?”

“As your dedicated senior liaison agent, of course I’m responsible,” Melita smiled gently. “As for how we’ll get there… naturally, we’ll fly.”

(End of chapter)