Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 684 - 683: What Is Happening Right Now

To be fair, at this moment Gawain really feels he’s a bit out of sync with Amber’s train of thought - as someone who usually occupies the high ground in terms of ideas as a time traveler, this kind of situation is indeed rare.

But after a moment of shock, he still realized that Amber was really a bit conflicted right now - talking nonsense non-stop is just a habit, or maybe a way to mask her true thoughts, but after all, such a significant event has occurred, even someone whose nerves are thick enough to be close to necrosis should have some concerns.

"Actually... I don’t really mind the so-called artificial human identity..." After a few seconds of silence, Amber finally couldn’t help but say, "From childhood to adulthood, I’ve always been a ’half-blood’ with a mysterious lineage, I’ve lived in the slums, fought with people in dark alleys, slept in stables, and even slept in graveyards. Really, I’ve always known that Pittman was probably being hunted down by those evil cult followers; he’s most likely a fugitive like my adoptive father... following them means there’ll never be stable days.

"People snatching a meal in the gutters and dark alleys don’t have the luxury to consider things like lineage and background, you know? Those living most desperately haven’t even thought about whether they are human, because just considering tomorrow’s food already drains their strength. Some even genuinely envy the dogs fed by knights, which is not an exaggeration.

"Of course I live better than those in the worst conditions, but I understand that state of survival very well, and it has greatly influenced me.

"I don’t care whether I’m an artificial human - though this matter did scare me a bit, but I really don’t care. I’m someone with a blank background, ’artificial human’ is at least better than nothing... as you said, it doesn’t affect me living like a normal person."

Gawain looked down at Amber: "What you care about is how to face Veronica?"

"She once ordered me to be destroyed - just didn’t succeed," Amber indirectly answered Gawain’s question, "And when she talks about the shadow project and artificial human embryos, she’s as calm as talking about stones. Even though I know, she doesn’t do that with any malice..."

"Does that attitude make you uncomfortable?"

"A bit, but mostly worry - many of the plans of the Defiers seem overly paranoid and dangerous to me, especially after I became part of their plans, this feeling becomes even more apparent. In order to preserve humanity, they don’t mind putting some on the balance as weights to achieve results. Though they seem to have their own limits, the biggest issue is, you can’t be sure that you’re not on the balance when cooperating with them..."

Gawain looked at Amber with some surprise, he didn’t expect this person to be genuinely concerned about such serious matters.

After approximately half a minute of thought, he finally spoke: "The followers of the god of trade often say - everything in this world is on the balance of the goddess of the night.

"I don’t believe in the god of trade, but this saying seems half true to me - all of us, from the moment we’re born, inevitably stand on a balance, but the one holding the balance isn’t necessarily a god, it could be someone stronger than you, could be the country’s laws, could be the natural rules, even could be that so-called illusory fate. There’s only one certainty: as someone born into this world, your value is inevitably measured by something.

"As weights, we cannot hope for the balance’s mercy, so you either have the ability to build a new balance yourself, or keep enough value to avoid falling off the balance’s pan.

"Your doubts about the Defiers are normal, I also have doubts, but under certain stages and conditions, the value of the Defiers makes it worth us taking some risks. Do you remember about the classification of friends and enemies I talked with you? Defiers like Veronica are friends we could strive for under specific stages and conditions - if there really is a balance, then this is also a result weighed by the balance."

Saying this, Gawain looked deeply at Amber: "Of course, there’s one premise with Veronica, which is that the ’shadow project’ from those years has become the past, she won’t tangle with you over this issue, so our cooperation with her can proceed."

The terrace became quiet for a while, until a minute later when Gawain finally heard Amber suddenly let out a long breath: "Old man, you do have a point..."

Then she raised her head and handed the greasy chicken leg in her hand to Gawain: "Here’s a chicken leg for you."

Gawain was once again a bit out of sync with Amber’s thinking. When he finally got it, he glared hard at this person: "You dare use that word - why are you laughing, now you’re also an old man!"

"... If by definition I am," Amber pondered, suddenly realizing with wide eyes, and then began her whimsical imagination, "Wait, if that’s the case, my adoptive father dug me up back then, then I dug you up, and you dug up Kamel and Nicholas Egg... what kind of ancestral trade would this be?"

What kind of ancestral trade... was this term used here?

But Amber’s association indeed shocked Gawain, this was when he realized this "chain of fate" was actually connected by digging graves, the shovel that digs ancestors’ graves linking me with you - where does this devilish inheritance come from!

He shook his head vigorously to try to shake off this impactful chain from his mind and then noticed Amber still holding up the chicken leg - a chicken leg chewed halfway, who would still have an appetite?

"Just keep it for yourself." He somewhat awkwardly refused Amber’s good intention, then glanced towards the direction where the castle lights came from.

"Indeed, it’s about time," Amber casually put away the chicken leg, wiped her mouth, stood up, and looked in the direction of Gawain’s gaze, "... this boring and long banquet should be over."

"The pen and paper for signing are already prepared," Gawain nodded, "After tonight, land and leader order will thoroughly end."

...

This long banquet finally ended, and for the majority of aristocrats attending the banquet, it was a gathering without any trace of light-heartedness or indulgence, an event that was hardly enjoyable or luxurious, after ceremonial procedures, the challenging atmosphere, various factors of anxiety, they finally reached today’s ultimate goal.

Signing the Imperial Reform Declaration, accepting the comprehensive restructuring, handing over privileges, handing over land.

Gawain returned to the castle, in the Golden Oak Hall, aristocrats who had moved here would complete the signing ceremony in the presence of him and three Grand Governors.

Earl Balin grasped the delicate pen, yet the light pen felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds. He looked at the document’s powerful steel-like words, letting out a silent sigh within.

Beside him, Earl Cromwell Whitehill had already picked up his pen, and with a deliberate stroke, this knight lord of dwarf ancestry solemnly wrote down his name.

"Sign it, it’s the destiny of the aristocracy," Cromwell turned his head and whispered to Earl Balin, "The nobles of the southern borders have already signed, and they haven’t faced any apocalypse."

Earl Balin looked up, seeing familiar faces, some had already bowed their heads to sign, others were still frowning in thought, and amidst them, a strong smell of alcohol lingered.

The drowsiness from alcohol was an effective aid in helping them make up their minds—standing next to each of them were court attendants dressed in red coats, ensuring the names they signed were clear and legible.

Earl Balin had always been passionate about banquets and fine wine, but tonight, he hadn’t touched a drop.

Those glorious yet decadent times were over.

He lifted his pen, the tip landed on the paper, writing a line of neatly sharp words.

...

In the Obsidian Palace of the Typhon Empire, Emperor Rosetta Augustus sat behind a large desk, intently reading the document in his hand.

The Magic Web Unit operated silently in the hidden layers of the ceiling and walls, the constant magic power illuminating the magical crystal lamps throughout the study, making the room brightly lit. Melodious music flowed from the nearby ancient magical device, carrying an invigorating melody. Amidst this music, Emperor Rosetta set down the document and murmured softly to himself: "...Cecil Empire, huh..."

The document in his hand was urgent news from the intelligence department—even though there were virtually costless gryphon knight relays and communication towers within the empire, due to border isolation and the chaos in the eastern region of Anzu Kingdom, this intelligence had been delayed by a little over half a month before reaching the Typhon Empire, greatly reducing its timeliness. The intelligence mentioned the recently spreading news within Anzu territory about the establishment of an empire, but according to Rosetta’s calculations, by today, "Anzu" was probably already a thing of the past.

Even if Gawain Cecil had not officially been crowned, he should have already completed control over St. Soniel and the consolidation and suppression of the old kingdom’s nobility by now.

The dramatic upheaval occurring on that ancient land exceeded this Typhon ruler’s predictions, also causing him some hesitation in his judgment of the situation.

The end of Anzu’s royal authority was seemingly good news; a nation is in its most chaotic and weakest state when its ruler falls. Without any other variables, the internal wars combined with the impact of the Crystal Cluster calamity would have obliterated Anzu’s ruling group in one fell swoop, presenting Typhon an opportunity not to be missed for ages. But the problem lies with this "variable"—Anzu’s royal authority did not collapse and disintegrate; instead, it ended smoothly after St. Soniel’s relief and transitioned seamlessly under the leadership of Gawain Cecil.

This means the chaos that country would face has been minimized, and both the transferrer and receiver of power had made all necessary preparations—Gawain Cecil is not a foolish man; he would never undertake something so significant without being prepared.

As the ruler of the Typhon Empire, and the implementer of the past two decades of new policies, Rosetta Augustus of course knows what the word "Empire" entails. Regardless of the conditions required to claim imperial status, merely from its operational perspective, the biggest difference between an Empire and kingdoms is greater consolidation of power, higher operational and execution efficiency, more stable order, and a greater capacity to embrace and utilize new things—and all of this means one thing: that ancient and decaying country is about to break free from the mire.

So far, all the intelligence transmitted from Anzu has hinted at something that made Rosetta Augustus very uneasy: that nation had not suffered severe enough wounds from the earlier civil war and Crystal Cluster War. Quite the contrary, the rise of force in the southern borders greatly exceeded Typhon’s estimation. This force controlled the situation before the disaster on the Plains of the Holy Spirits expanded, preserving Anzu’s vitality.

Perhaps because of this, Gawain Cecil dared to reorganize the country after a war... but this could also be a bluff...

Rosetta Augustus leaned back in the large seat, swiftly integrating all the recent news in his mind, but suddenly, he frowned slightly and turned his gaze to the nearby window.

Two identical nightingales stood outside the window, pecking at the crystal glass with their beaks.

Noticing Rosetta’s gaze, the two nightingales lifted their heads, quietly locking eyes with this Typhon ruler.

After a long moment, Rosetta finally revealed a faint smile devoid of warmth, and casually said, "For those who are thoroughly defeated, you do have admirable courage."

"Experiments inevitably run into accidents." One of the nightingales spread its wings, its clear voice penetrating the window into the study.

"Projects inevitably encounter failures." The other nightingale followed suit.

"Your concepts of accidents and failures are indeed novel," Rosetta coldly remarked, "but fortunately, I am no longer interested in your unusual ideas."

Saying that, he raised his hand to summon the Royal Mages to capture the unexpected visitors of the night, but before that, the two nightingales simultaneously spoke, "Are you interested in hearing about the history of the Gondor Empire?"

Rosetta furrowed his brows, waved his hand, and the window immediately opened a gap wide enough.

The two nightingales flew into the room one after the other, their wings fluttering, conjuring an elf twins’ image with pale green radiance.

Rosetta Augustus looked coldly at these two identically appearing elves: "What do you wish to say?"

"Have you heard of the defied Plan?"