Chapter 953: A Headache for Andersa
Gawain and the others were escorted out of the Upper Sanctuary’s grand hall. The High Dragon Priest Helagor personally saw them to the door. Then, two priests clad in equally splendid robes appeared from somewhere unknown and led them toward the long connecting bridge that led to the elevator.
The first half of the journey was unusually quiet. Perhaps the solemn atmosphere of the sanctuary still lingered, or maybe Amber and Veronica felt as if the god’s gaze still watched over them, making them too cautious to speak freely. But halfway through, Amber couldn’t hold back any longer. She glanced at the two silent dragon priests ahead, who seemed like nothing more than tools leading the way, then quietly poked Gawain’s arm.
“Hey, don’t you find this a bit strange…?”
Gawain looked at her. “Strange how?”
“Why did the conversation just stop all of a sudden…” Amber whispered cautiously. “I feel like the Dragon God still had a lot left unsaid… And He even specifically emphasized that we should visit Tal’Rond first…”
“Well, if He wants us to visit, then we visit. That’s fine, isn’t it?” Gawain said indifferently. “As for whether He had more to say but didn’t… that’s His business.”
Amber blinked, glanced at Gawain, then looked back at the magnificent sanctuary standing under the starry sky. Her expression was thoughtful for a moment before she quickly gave up on the thought.
She patted her cheek, as if brushing away the lingering confusion, muttering, “Ugh… it feels like it’s night already, and I can’t help but feel sleepy…”
Gawain slowed his pace slightly. He looked at Amber and saw that the half-elf had perked up again, wearing that familiar, ever-present mischievous grin.
…
“Master,” Helagor returned to the resplendent sanctuary hall and bowed before the deity. “They have left.”
“You seem to have many questions,” Enya was back on the throne that had reappeared in the center of the hall. She looked down at her priest. “There’s no need to hold back today. Speak freely.”
Helagor hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Master, why did You bring up… events from 1,870,000 years ago? Such secret ancient knowledge shouldn’t have been part of the plan…”
“Some ancient secrets are kept from mortals because they cannot bear the truth. But after meeting today’s guests… I find I can share a little more,” the god’s voice came softly, tinged with a hint of pleasure. “I thought only that ‘Gawain Cecil’ was special, but it turns out all three of them are. The Listener is not as easily ‘damaged’ as ordinary mortals, which pleases me greatly.”
She paused, then sighed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had such a relaxed conversation with anyone… So I’m especially looking forward to my next private meeting with that ‘Gawain Cecil.’”
Helagor looked up in surprise. “You plan to meet that human king alone next time?”
“A ghost who has lived a thousand years is still just a ghost. A wanderer crossing from the dream realm into the mortal world is essentially a resident of the shadow world. But a ‘guest’ disguised as an ordinary human, even I cannot fully understand him… that’s far more interesting,” the god said slowly. “Next time, I want to speak with him alone. I’m also curious what new insights he’ll have after seeing Tal’Rond with his own eyes.”
“Helagor, from now on, let that young blue dragon accompany the guests. You only need to monitor their movements and ensure their safety. Do not disturb them unless necessary.”
Helagor bowed again. “Yes, Master.”
Enya gave a simple hum, then suddenly lifted her gaze toward the continent of Loren, her expression growing serious.
“So soon…” she sighed softly, speaking to herself. “Fortunately… it’s not beyond expectations yet…”
…
As the month of Mistfall approached, temperatures in most northern regions of the continent dropped rapidly. Winterwolf Fortress, located on the empire’s northern border, bore the brunt of the cold. The biting northern winds swept over gentle hills and plains, howling day and night through the wilds and valleys, battering the highlands and passes where the knightly orders were stationed. Overnight, the borderlands seemed to wither; grass turned yellow and brittle, and the chill of winter settled over the land.
Andersa Winder, dressed in light but warm knight’s attire, walked through the market streets accompanied by two attendants. The cold wind lifted the wisps of gray-white hair at her temples, causing her to squint slightly.
“Winter’s come a bit early this year…” the wolf general murmured. “I wonder if the Greenwood Valley and Longbranch Estate have been affected…”
One attendant quickly replied, “The empire’s granaries have been well stocked these years. Cotton and cloth supplies have been abundant for the past two years. Aside from the mountainous areas near the western pollution zone, there’s little worry about surviving the winter.”
Andersa said nothing, only nodding. Not far ahead on a street, a small troop transport bearing the emblem of the Typhon Empire rumbled by. Battle mages floated before and behind the vehicle, their presence disturbing the merchants lining the street. Curious passersby craned their necks, pointing and whispering as the transport passed, while vendors resumed hawking exotic goods from south and north.
Winter had indeed arrived earlier this year, with temperatures far lower than usual for this time. Yet in this half-military, half-civilian town built around Winterwolf Fortress, the streets were livelier and more prosperous than in previous years.
The increasingly stable peace between the two nations and expanding trade had begun to show its effects. Whether hawkish factions liked it or not, merchants and goods crossing borders were becoming more common, setting the tone for relations between Cecil and Typhon.
Even here at the border fortress, where imperial soldiers remained ever vigilant, they could not halt the flourishing commerce—after all, this was the will of Aldern.
As commander of Winterwolf Fortress, Andersa had not anticipated this, but now she had to accept it calmly.
“This place is much livelier this year, General,” one attendant said. “And according to news from the capital, cities like Aldern and Taren Kings have changed even more—apparently, companies invested by the Cecilians have brought many novelties. Are you planning to visit again this year?”
“I don’t intend to use my leave this time,” Andersa replied casually, then glanced at the attendant who had spoken. “You’re interested in those Cecilian novelties?”
The attendant’s face flushed with embarrassment and nervousness. “I… General, I’m not—”
“It’s alright. Their new things are indeed fascinating, and most are beneficial,” Andersa said thoughtfully, surprising the attendant by showing no reproach. “I just regret that none of these things were originally created by us Typhons.”
She looked toward the market street, where newly renovated roads from last year were lined with modern street lamps and arcane network devices transmitting energy—technologies all imported from Cecil. Merchants and technologists had first brought them from Cecil into Typhon, then local experts spread them here. These were signs of the growing ties between the two nations. Some welcomed this warmly; others felt uneasy.
As Andersa knew, the arcane network devices were among the greatest sources of anxiety for domestic experts. The key raw material for manufacturing the obelisks—the Hom crystals—remained tightly controlled by the Cecilians. Although the Empire’s Guild of Artificers had solved many technical challenges, as long as the source of Hom crystals was controlled by Cecil, Typhon’s arcane network could never be fully independent. The pace of network expansion depended on the amount of crystal exports from Cecil, and Typhon…
Typhon had to spend a large portion of its annual export profits buying those crystals—Cecilians never gave a single discount.
It was said that His Majesty the Emperor had taken notice and, upon learning how the Hom crystals were discovered, dispatched numerous exploration teams to search for Typhon’s own Hom deposits in the mountainous borderlands near the western pollution zone. So far, no definite news had come back.
Hopefully, they would find something.
As for Andersa herself… faced with the growing presence of “Cecilian things” at home, she was neither excited nor panicked.
She simply followed Aldern’s orders and protected Typhon’s interests.
At that moment, one attendant’s voice broke her train of thought. “That was probably the reinforcements for the mechanized mage battalion just now, right?”
Another attendant looked toward the end of the street, where the transport had disappeared, shaking his head. “Mages are rich folk. Even the mage battalion is the wealthiest unit in the army… The knights are still on horseback.”
“The Emperor and his military advisors have their plans,” Andersa interrupted the two attendants. “And the knights haven’t switched to mechanized units not because of funding—it’s because most legion-level tactics rely on traditional formations and horsemanship. Putting knights in vehicles would only weaken their combat effectiveness.”
Both attendants nodded. One glanced toward the barracks in the distance. “This is the second batch of reinforcements this week.”
“…The war priests are under ‘protective observation,’ and some knight officers have been rotated early. We need reinforcements to maintain Winterwolf’s combat strength…” Andersa frowned slightly, then shook her head. “Alright, this isn’t the place to discuss this.”
The abnormal situation within the domestic War God Church was no longer a secret. For obvious national interests, Aldern had recently issued several orders to temporarily adjust multiple main legions. At Winterwolf, Andersa’s recent focus had been on reorganizing deployments, removing risky units, maintaining internal stability, and shoring up border defenses. She had to transfer many war priests and loyal soldiers who had fought alongside her for years, even sending some upright and innocent knights to the rear under the guise of protective observation—effectively a soft detention.
These tasks were far from easy.
Besides the pressure within herself, she had to face the emotions of her subordinates. Soldiers were easier—they obeyed orders as their primary duty. Knights could be comforted with appeals to honor and loyalty. But the priests…
Most of them were genuinely good people—brave, upright souls who hadn’t truly done anything wrong—yet she was forced to make them bear unfair treatment. At the same time, those clerics weren’t exactly soldiers either. The battle priests functioned as auxiliary troops the Church of the War God provided to the Empire’s various legions. They took orders from the officers, but now those orders subtly conflicted with their faith… So calming their unrest had become Andersa’s biggest headache lately.
And that wasn’t even the worst of the recent bad news.
The second major blow was the fall of the Goddess of Magic.
Even now, Andersa could hardly believe what she had seen and heard over the past weeks—a funeral, a ceremony where humans mourned a deity; a joint declaration from two empires; eulogies personally penned by two emperors; nationwide mourning; and the ritual of scattering the “Holy Ash.” Andersa wasn’t a believer herself, but these events went far beyond anything she was used to or could easily comprehend. Even today, the thought of it still felt surreal.
The Goddess of Magic’s demise had undoubtedly shaken the Empire’s vast community of mages. Although the funeral had, in an unexpectedly effective way, diverted public attention and eased the pressure caused by the loss of a god, the mage population remained unsettled, and the aftershocks lingered. The Empire’s major legions all included large numbers of battle mages, and most of the mid- to high-ranking officers were devout followers of the Goddess of Magic. Their military discipline gave them a strong sense of duty, preventing despair or wavering faith from stopping them from fulfilling their roles—but in the end, they were still human.
The only relief Andersa could find was that the impact on the battle mage units was actually less severe than she had feared. Aside from the mid- and high-ranking officers, the vast majority of ordinary battle mages and lower-level commanders were not followers of the Goddess of Magic—not even casual believers.
These battle mages had been mass-trained by the Empire from childhood—following a standardized curriculum, a uniform template, with purely practical training that barely touched on faith or religious indoctrination.
Because these mass-produced battle mages felt little to nothing toward the Goddess of Magic, Andersa found a small comfort amid her worries. She even found herself entertaining thoughts that outsiders might consider heretical—
If only religious faith could be completely removed from the military, perhaps that would be a good thing. Let the gods be gods, and let humans be humans. Maybe then, half the troubles in this world would simply disappear.
(End of chapter)