Chapter 986: Return

Listening to Duke Bertram’s words, Hetty nodded gently.

From the very beginning, the root of this disaster lay with the Typhon people themselves. Their next moves would undoubtedly shape how this crisis ultimately unfolded. If things spiraled completely out of control, the entire Typhon territory would become a contaminated wasteland. At that point, whether or not Cecil wished to be drawn into a larger war, this conflict—one that should never have been fought—would inevitably continue. But if the Typhon people managed to regain control…

Then there would be much more room to maneuver.

Lost in thought, Hetty couldn’t help but sigh softly. “Every god’s loss of control means catastrophe… but clearly, the war god is far more troublesome than the others.”

“My greatest concern now,” Duke Bertram said gravely, “is whether the war god will undergo further unknown changes if the war drags on. It might gradually recover its sanity as the conflict ‘returns to normal,’ reclaiming its place among the true gods. Or, the madness could be irreversible, and this mad god will only grow stronger with the war, spreading its influence to more and more people caught in the conflict…”

“Ultimately, our understanding of the gods is still insufficient,” Archduchess Victoria said coldly. “We don’t know if the madness is reversible, nor can we be sure if the war god can draw power from the ongoing war. We only know its strength comes from mortal faith, but the process of drawing that power… is currently unquantifiable. We also lack reliable means to gauge the public sentiment within Typhon.”

Hetty hummed softly, rubbing her temples. “In any case, taking Winterwolf Fortress was just the first step. The question now is: what’s the next move?”

Bertram pondered before replying, “According to our original plan, after capturing Winterwolf Fortress, we should immediately advance toward the Winterhold defensive line and the Shadow Marshes, securing the Typhon assembly points in the north and the key railway hubs across the border. Then, relying on armored trains and mechanized units, we’d push rapidly to assault Aldern—if Aldern proves too difficult, we’d seize the vital transport junctions in Tarenkins, cutting off Typhon’s grain-producing regions and industrial supply lines, aiming to trigger widespread food shortages and industrial paralysis…”

“Typhon should be grateful to Andersa Wendell,” Hetty interrupted, shaking her head. “None of that will happen now. Since we know Typhon hasn’t truly declared war and is internally working to resist this divine calamity, our advance plans need to be adjusted. Archchancellor Victoria, what’s your take?”

“Let the First Legion halt its eastward advance for now and fortify Winterwolf Fortress,” Victoria said clearly, her military experience evident as she laid out her strategy. “Establish strongholds on favorable terrain north and south of Winterwolf, and set up long-range artillery positions to blockade the entire region. Maintain this blockade in the first phase—ready to attack or defend. As long as this line holds, Typhon’s actions will be forced into a passive stance.”

“Meanwhile, we must gather more intelligence from within Typhon…”

“So far, our spy network inside Typhon has been heavily disrupted by the chaos. To protect our agents, many have gone into hiding. But if the turmoil continues, their movements might actually become safer.”

“Additionally, I believe we should seek other channels to monitor Typhon’s situation—such as through the Gaoling Kingdom and the Silver Empire. They have extensive exchanges with Typhon in the southern continent, and their reports might corroborate the intelligence provided by Andersa Wendell. Our intelligence presence there is limited, but the Silver Empire could offer some reliable information. Something is better than nothing.”

Victoria finished her report and left the floor to Hetty and Bertram. Over the next while, the three archchancellors discussed various follow-up actions against Typhon.

When the meeting finally ended, Hetty at last reached for the water glass on her desk. Duke Bertram, hesitating slightly, asked over the comm channel, “Archchancellor Hetty, any word from His Majesty yet?”

Hetty held the glass, her expression complex. She shook her head, worry creeping into her voice. “Still no news…”

“…His Majesty will return safely,” Victoria said coolly. “He is one who can contend with the gods.”

After a few more words, Bertram and Victoria bid farewell, shutting down their arcane comm devices one after another. The faint hum of the machines faded, leaving Hetty alone in the vast office. The silence was so profound she could hear her own breathing.

She took a deep breath, massaging her brow, then hesitated before reaching into a nearby drawer. Moments later, she pulled out a small, silver-white ring kept in an exquisite box.

Hetty stared at the ring for two seconds, then rubbed its surface gently, channeling a trace of magic into it.

Just like yesterday, the mithril ring gave no response. This was her sixth attempt in the past twenty-four hours.

Frustrated, she rubbed her temples again and lowered her head, as if to hide her irritation and unease—though no one else was in the room.

This was the Mithril Ring, an “emergency communication device” left by Gawain before his departure. It was said to use advanced technology from Talrond, capable of maintaining contact even across continents.

Talrond lay beyond endless oceans and eternal storms, unreachable by the current arcane network. So Gawain had left this device to ensure emergency contact if the continent’s situation drastically changed and the empire faced crisis.

But now, it was silent. Hetty didn’t know if she was using it wrong, if the device had malfunctioned, or—worst of all—if something more dire had happened.

She tossed the ring back onto the desk. The metal clinked crisply against the surface, bouncing twice before rolling to a stop.

Almost at that moment, the arcane comm terminal that had just powered down suddenly lit up again. The base emitted a rapid hum, and the holographic projection displayed the identification mark of the Winterhold Fortress internal line.

Hetty blinked, then quickly answered. The hologram of Archduchess Victoria reappeared.

“Archchancellor Victoria?” Hetty asked, surprised. “What’s happening…?”

“The Northern Port Hub Tower just received an identification signal from above the northern sea,” Victoria’s voice was cool but urgent. “It should be the two large arcane comm devices His Majesty carries!”

Hearing this, Hetty’s first reaction was to glance at the Mithril Ring she’d just thrown aside, then she stared wide-eyed at Victoria. “Is it confirmed? Have you made contact?”

“The signal characteristics are confirmed, and no other source could produce such a signal over the northern sea. But the signal is still weak—too far away to establish full communication. We’ve only exchanged brief messages indicating safety,” Victoria explained. “However, judging by the signal’s strengthening curve, we should be able to communicate, barely, in about ten minutes.”

“Switch it to this channel immediately!” Hetty ordered.

“I’m already doing that.”

Ten minutes… Hetty never imagined ten minutes could feel so endless. She was restless, anxious, hopeful, confused—all emotions tangled together. She wanted to stand, to pace, or fix her appearance, but worried that any movement might be seen by her ancestor if the connection suddenly came through. So she forced herself to sit still, maintaining her usual composed and dignified posture behind the desk.

She felt like she’d waited forty millennia in that state. She was sure the Victoria in the hologram beside her was just as restless—though the Ice Queen was better at hiding it.

Just as her thoughts began to wander, the arcane comm terminal on the other side of the desk flickered with light. Hetty felt her breath and heartbeat skip.

Through heavy interference and distortion, a blurry shadow gradually took shape in the hologram, accompanied by crackling, noisy voices.

Though still unclear, Hetty was certain it was her ancestor—Gawain Cecil himself.

He seemed to be speaking, but she couldn’t catch the words yet. After a moment, the image stabilized slightly, and the voice became more coherent. She heard her ancestor call her name: “Hetty… interference… can you hear me clearly now?”

“Yes, ancestor!” Hetty replied immediately, standing without realizing it. “There’s still some interference, but I can hear you clearly!”

In just those few words, the audio and image grew noticeably clearer.

Clearly, her ancestor was rapidly approaching the continent of Loren—Hetty could almost picture the dragon streaking through the sky at full speed.

“I can finally hear your voice,” Gawain said. “Good. It seems these two devices survived the ordeal. Hetty, tell me about your situation. Has something happened on Loren recently?”

“How did you know…?” Hetty was momentarily taken aback, but quickly recovered. She didn’t dwell on how he learned of the upheaval, instead speaking plainly. “Ancestor, the Typhon divine disaster has worsened. Some of their troops have gone rogue and attacked us. We had no choice but to fight back. We are now officially at war with Typhon.”

“Ah?!” Gawain’s shock was unmistakable—even through the interference, Hetty could see his stunned expression.

To surprise the ever-commanding and reliable ancestor like that… maybe she should feel proud?

Hetty gave a bitter smile, then continued her report. “After the outbreak, we pushed the front eastward. General Philip led the First Legion, with support from the Dragon Cavalry, and captured Winterwolf Fortress at dawn today. Our forces have now established artillery and bunkers along the Typhon border.”

“…Ah?!”

“Moreover, the Winterwolf garrison, under their supreme commander Andersa Wendell, surrendered voluntarily. We ended that battle more easily than expected…”

“…Ah!?”

After three exclamations, Gawain finally recovered from his shock. His image grew clearer, and his voice came through more distinctly. “Wait—such a major development—why didn’t you contact me directly with the Mithril Ring?”

Hetty paused for a moment, her gaze instinctively dropping to the silver-white ring resting on the table before she spoke. “I tried several times. You didn’t receive any of them?”

“You tried?” Gawain sounded even more surprised than Hetty. “But I haven’t gotten a single response on my end…”

Hetty blinked in confusion.

Was it her own operation that was faulty? Or had this so-called high-tech Talrond creation really malfunctioned?

A new wave of questions flooded her mind, but before she could voice them, Gawain’s voice came through again. “Forget the mithril ring for now. Just tell me what’s going on— we’re heading toward the Northport coastline. Keep it brief and clear. How much have I missed?”

…

The cold wind howled outside the protective barrier. Below the dragon, the endless ocean rushed past in swift currents, its gently rippling surface stretching toward the faint outline of the mainland on the horizon.

Gawain stood at the center of Melita’s broad back, stunned as he listened to Hetty’s report.

“Just one journey away…” he muttered to himself, disbelief thick in his voice. “And the whole world’s turned upside down by the time I get back.”

“I knew something was going to go wrong before you left!” Amber jabbered nonstop beside him. “You never trust my gut, but I’m telling you, my instincts are spot on. A month ago, I already suspected this winter wouldn’t be good. See? I told you something would happen—”

The half-elf’s incessant chatter was enough to give anyone a headache. Gawain deeply regretted that Melita’s back wasn’t a wall—he had no way to smack Amber against anything to shut her up.

“Melita,” he finally said, forcing himself to ignore Amber’s rambling, turning to the massive dragon’s head ahead. “Hetty said the mithril ring isn’t responding. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know! Nothing like this has ever happened before!” Melita’s voice carried a hint of tension, her surprise genuine and unmistakable. “The mithril ring… it’s directly linked to the Omega system. All information transmission is handled personally by Omega. Even if a ring is damaged or offline, a damage report would instantly be sent to Talrond, as well as to the ring’s custodian and every level of authority. I’m responsible for your ring, but I haven’t received any such report.”

Gawain frowned. “Did Omega make a mistake?”

“Omega never makes mistakes!” Melita’s voice came firmly at first, but then faltered. “At least… not since I was born have I ever seen anything like this…”

(End of chapter)