Chapter 98: Faith in the Holy Light

If this had been the real Gawain Cecil from seven centuries ago, he would probably be feeling lost, even a bit melancholy right now. Back then, the human kingdoms had no internal conflicts like those of later eras. They were all survivors who had escaped the ruins of Gondor, scattered by natural disasters but united in spirit. Several kingdoms worked hand in hand to build defenses and share resources. The honeymoon period between the Typhon Empire and the Ansu Kingdom lasted over five hundred years.

No one could have imagined that one day they would turn their swords against each other.

But standing here now was not the original Gawain Cecil—just a satellite spirit who had descended from the heavens. Gawain knew he should feel some sorrow, but he simply couldn’t get into the mood. So he forced his expression into a stiff, serious mask—something like the “greatest sorrow is a broken heart” meme. “Has war already been declared?”

“Just a hair’s breadth away,” Count Cohen shook his head gently. “All diplomatic channels have been cut off. Both sides are amassing troops. At this point, reason no longer holds sway. It’s only a matter of who strikes first. We all suspect that within a year, the first great war among the human kingdoms will erupt.”

Rebecca, standing nearby, couldn’t hold back: “But we’re facing the Magic Tide! If the Grant Wall really collapses, do you think the Typhon Empire will remain unscathed? If the monsters from the Gondor Wasteland break through, do you think they’ll care which kingdom you belong to?”

“In fact, in the last communication before diplomacy broke down, my father already warned the Empire,” Veronica said softly. “He cautioned those proud Typhon nobles that the Gondor Wasteland was changing, and that signs of mutant activity had been spotted near the Ansu border. He hoped the Empire would set aside their foolish hatred in the face of this real crisis…”

Amber blurted out, “And then?”

Veronica lowered her eyelids. “Then Typhon unilaterally cut off magical communications at the border and reinforced their troops by thirty thousand.”

“That’s unreasonable!” Rebecca immediately said. “Why would Typhon hate Ansu so much as to go this far? Even if they didn’t believe it, couldn’t they at least say something? Just shutting down communications like that—what does it mean?”

“Because humans aren’t exactly the smartest creatures,” Gawain shook his head. “Especially when politics and nobility get involved, their minds get clouded by interests, pride, family ties, and the inertia of war. And why would Typhon believe Ansu’s warnings about the Magic Tide? They’d sooner think it’s an excuse to stall or prepare for war. Even if they did believe it… they’d probably be hoping the Magic Tide breaks out centered on Ansu.”

Rebecca blinked, her wolf-beaten head stuck on this point. “Why?”

Gawain shrugged. “Because then Ansu would be finished, and they think they can just divide the spoils.”

Rebecca felt even more lost. “Do they really think that’s possible? In the face of the Magic Tide…”

“Have you ever considered the true power of those monsters before seeing the mutants? Before the land of Cecil was corrupted into wasteland by elemental forces, did you understand the real might of chaotic magic? And so far, what you’ve seen isn’t even a ripple of the true Magic Tide.”

Rebecca was speechless.

Gawain sighed. His words weren’t just for Rebecca, but also for Veronica and the others standing nearby. “That’s the reason. Seven hundred years have passed, and humans are a short-lived, shortsighted species. Except for the elves, everyone treats the Magic Tide like an ancient legend. The Ansu royal family has even abandoned the entire southern region. Tell me, besides this frontier settlement, where in Ansu can you still see the Grant Wall?”

Count Cohen’s expression shifted slightly. Veronica folded her hands over her chest and lowered her head, whispering, “May the Holy Light forgive the ignorant masses—humans have retreated into comfortable lands, the boundaries of civilization shrinking ever further. The barrier that determines life and death has long since vanished from their sight…”

“Now, probably only the elves still diligently watch over the nodes on the Grant Wall,” Gawain lamented, “but neither Ansu nor Typhon care about them.” Then he changed the subject. “That said, Typhon’s reaction is a bit off. People can be foolish, but their response… seems overly forceful.”

Count Cohen’s eyes widened slightly. “You mean, they know monsters have appeared in Ansu, they believe the threat from the Gondor Wasteland is real, yet they still choose to start a civil war?”

“I’m not saying anything,” Gawain shrugged. “I don’t even know what the Typhon Empire looks like now. The old comrades I knew back then are all dead. Not to mention Typhon, I was confused in Ansu for months. You’ve grown wildly in these hundreds of years. If I hadn’t seen some people hanging portraits of our old generation on their walls, I wouldn’t believe this land was the one we opened up back then…”

Veronica was silent.

After that, Gawain arranged a welcome banquet for the guests from the capital.

The frontier camp was still in its early stages. Besides hunting some wild game from nearby forests, most food came from purchases in Tansang Town, transported by river. Though they had brought some livestock and poultry when they arrived, those animals were for breeding, not for slaughter. Food variety was limited, so the feast wasn’t lavish. But Veronica was not the kind of harsh noble to complain about such things. The goddess priestess Sandy and Count Cohen, deputy leader of the knights, who accompanied her, were also understanding. No one thought the Cecil family’s hospitality was lacking.

More importantly, no one wanted to criticize their ancestors—seven centuries of lineage commanded respect.

After the handover, Veronica and her companions wouldn’t stay long. But before they left, Gawain took them on a tour of the camp. He wasn’t worried about revealing secrets; most projects were still in their infancy. Even experts wouldn’t find much to marvel at, and the two priests and one battle mage weren’t specialists in this area—they didn’t even know what a primitive furnace looked like, let alone understand the crystal forging process for Rebecca.

Besides, flaunting wealth and land was a noble custom in this world. Not showing them around would seem suspicious.

Of course, he excluded the tent with the glowing orb—that thing was just too hard to explain…

Naturally, Gawain’s attention kept drifting to Sandy beside Veronica. After all, here was a glowing, holographic-like being standing right there, and only he could tell something was off about her. Anyone would sneak a few glances. After a couple of looks, Veronica finally noticed.

“Are you bothered by Sandy’s silence?” Veronica gently brought up the topic. “Please forgive her; she’s always been this way.”

“No, it’s just that she reminds me of someone I knew long ago,” Gawain made up a reason he’d already used once in front of Amber. With a “no witnesses” attitude, he was always confident when making up stories like this. “Of course, she’s definitely not the same person. I just can’t help but look twice. If I’ve offended, please forgive me.”

“Sandy wouldn’t mind,” Veronica smiled slightly. Sandy merely nodded, offering a small sign of agreement. Then Veronica continued, “She’s been my close friend for many years. Before I converted, she had already devoted herself to the great Holy Light. It was she who guided me onto the right path.”

There was a hint of fanaticism in her tone.

Gawain didn’t show his skepticism. After all, faith was a personal matter. This saintly princess was quite approachable when not talking about religion.

Veronica wasn’t finished. “Her devotion is admirable. She’s silent before you because she has already given most of her words to our Lord. Speaking of which, I notice that although your lands are full of life, they seem to lack spiritual guidance?”

Gawain forced a smile. “I respect devout believers, but look—my territory, even with the hundred people you brought, numbers only about nine hundred. Everyone’s busy building homes and clearing land. Building churches and supporting clergy will have to wait.”

“Faith is not a burden on the people,” Veronica smiled. “It becomes their direction and strength. At least the Holy Light teaches us to be gentle and kind, guiding and protecting all beings with its power. If you wish, I can personally help you establish a church of the Holy Light here. I promise, aside from voluntary offerings, the church will not collect a single coin. All expenses will be covered by me personally. Meanwhile, the clergy will provide free healing and counsel to your people.”

Gawain kept smiling. “Is there really such a good thing?”

A faint, holy glow seemed to radiate from Veronica. Her smile seemed bathed in the Light itself. “Please don’t doubt it. This is my personal goodwill and admiration for a legendary hero like you. My brother and I grew up listening to your stories.”

Gawain’s smile didn’t waver. “The Cecil family thanks Your Highness for your kindness. I will consider it—but not now. When the territory stabilizes and my people grow enough to need spiritual guidance, I will welcome your help.”

“That’s good,” Veronica’s glow dimmed gradually, her smile becoming gentle and warm. “Whenever you need, the Lord will watch over all. Though there are many gods, only the Holy Light can embrace all. At the end of the Light lies the ultimate salvation for all foolish mortals.”

(End of chapter)