Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 1036: Chapter 1035: Invitation

Elf Outpost on the Wasteland Border.

If it weren’t for Soldrin’s reminder, Gawain indeed wouldn’t have thought about this—although he was aware of the outpost’s existence.

In fact, back when the Cecil Clan was still a duchy, Gawain first successfully established contact with the Silver Empire far to the southern end of the continent through this outpost as a relay—this was already a few years ago.

"The Farwalker Outpost of the Silver Empire is a permanently neutral stronghold, recognized by all nations from the distant Gondor era through the kingdom era after the Second Expansion for thousands of years," Soldrin said on the side, "Given the current situation, any location would pose issues for this crucial ceasefire negotiation, so it’s better done at the elf outpost northwest of the Shadow Marsh. Additionally, the elves are very suitable as witnesses... at least given their long lifespan, we have great confidence in witnessing contracts over a millennium long."

Gawain admitted that he hadn’t considered this approach before. Listening to Soldrin now, he suddenly thought it made some sense: "...Seven hundred years ago, the Pioneer’s Pact between the nations was also concluded under the elves’ witness..."

"What do you think?" Soldrin looked at Gawain. "Do you agree?"

Gawain pondered briefly and after half a minute, he lightly nodded: "This seems the most appropriate plan currently... Personally, I agree, but this matter requires more than just my approval. Send the message to Bitter Winter Castle and see if the Typhon Empire also agrees—we also need to contact the Silver Empire and see what Queen Belsetia thinks."

"Her Majesty would surely be willing to be the witness," Soldrin said confidently but nodded nevertheless, "Of course, I will report this matter to Queen Belsetia."

Gawain hummed in acknowledgment, yet his serious expression did not relax much, instead, he once again fell into contemplation. Amber noticed the change in his expression and couldn’t help but ask: "What’s wrong? Did you think of any inappropriate aspects?"

Gawain was startled out of his deep thoughts and shook his head: "Not really inappropriate, it’s just..."

As he spoke, he looked towards the map hanging a bit away on the hall wall—that was a map encompassing the entirety of Typhon and Cecil, including parts of several surrounding nations, where the Lands of Mortals were intricately intertwined, with vast empires, scattered kingdoms, and city-states dependent on large nations... all clearly marked. Gawain’s gaze swept over those ancient or young names, and his eyes grew profound.

"Perhaps... we should not just be content with a ceasefire negotiation..."

"Not just a ceasefire negotiation?" Amber seemed a bit confused by Gawain’s thoughts, scratching her head, "Oh, is it like that story you told me before? Where in the middle of the negotiation you slam a cup, and then five hundred White Knights with power hammers jump in through the window and flip all the tables..."

"Stop, stop, stop..." Gawain’s grand plan was interrupted halfway by this half-elf, making him hastily call to a halt, and sincerely regret teaching this disgrace of all beings so much nonsense—all the while knowing he would teach her again eventually, but at least at this moment his regret was genuine, "I shouldn’t have taught you this nonsense... It almost threw off my train of thought."

Amber paid no heed: "So what do you mean then?"

"We resisted a calamity from the gods," Gawain invoked years of ancestor experience, swiftly regaining his serious demeanor, speaking gradually as he organized his chaotic thoughts, "Two human empires marshaled all national power to face it directly, and our enemy was a true, crazed god that descended to the mortal realm. This event should be a major milestone in the historical process of all mortals—it should not merely be a ’result’ of war between the Typhon Empire and the Cecil Clan."

Amber blinked as if still not quite grasping it, but Soldrin on the side caught a hint of Gawain’s intent: "You want to... leverage this calamity to promote the ’defied plan’ globally?"

"No, we cannot directly promote the defied plan—it’s still too radical for those unaware of the truth of the world, and the terrifying truth behind it will prematurely scare away many potential allies," Gawain shook his head, "But we can surely use this opportunity to make the continental countries more aware of the crisis, to unite more people, and to ready more individuals—The fall of the War God will soon have repercussions, the corresponding Divine Arts will become invalid, related mental Steel Stamps will vanish, all nations will quickly realize the War God’s Divine Position is absent, so this calamity itself can’t be hidden, we might as well publish it directly."

"...Frankly, the shock caused by this might not be gentler than the defied plan for many," Soldrin chuckled bitterly, sighing, "However, I still agree with your point—we should make a bigger deal of it."

"We need to prepare two meetings," Gawain nodded, "One is for our ceasefire agreement with the Typhon Empire, and the other... we need to invite as many allies as possible, we need to establish a new international order and forge international relations that bind everyone closely together—of course, it’s too early to say this now, but I believe we can prepare to take the first step."

Gawain detailed his thoughts, and what he told Soldrin now was by no means a spur of the moment—he had harbored such thoughts long ago, and had even discussed it in detail with Aunt Heidi and others several times.

In his view, this world is by no means a gentle and bright paradise. The existence of god calamities, black pits, and chaotic waves are disastrous catastrophes in any historical era for mortals. Even as a legendary powerhouse and a ruler of a nation, living in such a world always instills a sense of trepidation, much less for ordinary people in this world.

Facing this unfriendly world, Gawain never considered himself strong. On the contrary, he straightforwardly acknowledged his own insignificance and even recognized the weakness of the entire mortal group. It is precisely for this reason that he places such importance on the overall development of society and the survival capability of the entire mortal community in the face of catastrophe—when a disaster like the chaotic wave arrives, the survival of a few strong or fortunate individuals is utterly meaningless; only the continuation of civilization signifies that the group of mortals is truly alive.

This was a realization he formed when he led a group of refugees to pitch the first tent by the White River, and to this day, this original intent has never changed.

And to realize his overly ambitious "ambition," he must push his ideal order onto the entire world—once, such an idea seemed arrogant and naive, but now, he has seen the opportunity to take the first step.

Gawain raised his head, his gaze directed to the northeast. Through a window in a corner of the hall, the snowy peaks of the Bitter Winter Castle mountains faintly appeared in his vision: "Now, it depends on whether our ’neighbors’ are willing to welcome this new era with us."

...

The war damage was shocking, even the once majestic and solid mountaintop fortress became a sight of devastation after the disaster.

The walls, white as ice crystals, were stained with scorched blackness, the towers and banners around the castle collapsed in disarray. The towering Bitter Winter Castle still stood on the high mountain, yet a full quarter of the fortress structure had been obliterated in the previous explosion—the remaining three-quarters stood shivering in the cold wind, where mages, covered in dust and smoke, were working busily and tensely in the dilapidated courtyard and collapsing corridors, and pillars.

They were trying their best to prevent the fortress from further collapsing, and attempting to use magic to reinforce and patch the damaged walls and main buildings. Due to the immense waste energy interference permeating throughout the entire Winterhold Fortress Group, the mages found it hard to concentrate, and progress on these repairs was not going smoothly. Nevertheless, as of now, the main hall and a few surrounding corridors were secure.

The black-haired maidservant supervisor walked down the cracked and dust-covered corridor, her short-heeled boots making crisp footsteps on the stone floor. Despite the chaos surrounding her, she maintained the same elegance and composure she would have in the Obsidian Palace, with not a flicker of expression on her delicate face, just as it had been for many years—no one could ever guess what was on Lady Diana’s mind, loyal to the Augustus Clan for hundreds of years.

After passing through the antechamber and the corridors, and through two empty small rooms, she arrived in a freshly tidied drawing room. Emperor Rosetta Augustus was sitting on a chair with a dark red cushion, seemingly deep in thought.

"Master," Diana approached Emperor Rosetta, "I have returned."

"Welcome back, you must be tired," Rosetta looked at the black-haired maid, nodding slightly, "It seems the Cecil Clan did not trouble you."

Diana placed her hands folded neatly at her waist and said meticulously, "Gawain Cecil is a person who understands reason, his officers abide by the rules."

Rosetta looked into Diana’s eyes, "Tell me about your experiences with the Cecil Clan—is there anything worth reporting?"

A glimmer seemed to pass through Diana’s eyes. She opened her mouth but hesitated at the last moment before speaking, which immediately surprised Rosetta—never in his memory had he seen this "Iron Lady" exhibit such a "hesitant" reaction!

But briefly after, Diana spoke, "Beside Gawain Cecil, there are ’survivors’ who have lived since the ancient Gondor era."

"...Not surprising," Rosetta tapped the table lightly, his expression natural as he said, "Based on the intelligence we currently possess, among Cecil’s technical personnel, there is at least one Master Mage from the Gondor era—as a ’pioneer hero’ himself who revived from seven hundred years ago, Gawain Cecil is even essentially a survivor of Gondor, with access to Gondor’s heritage surpassing all others.

"However... since you specifically mentioned this matter, I guess the Gondor survivor by Gawain’s side is not an ordinary person?"

"...Ophelia Norton," Diana said, "A royal member from the Meteoric Era of the Gondor Empire, Legion Commander of the Iron Soldier Corps, one of the Defier leaders, cutting-edge technical personnel—now she goes by Veronica Moen, identified as a princess of Old Anzu. It’s a kind of soul immortality technology, but my data bank lacks specific details on this."

Rosetta’s light tapping on the table stopped, he sat expressionless, and for the next few seconds remained motionless like a black iron statue.

"Master?" Diana watched him, "What comes to mind?"

Rosetta’s fingers paused mid-air finally landed on the table, and he sighed with a subtly intricate expression, "To be honest... I’m starting to feel somewhat envious of our neighbor."

Diana thought for a moment, reminding, "You’ve said something similar before."

"But this time is different," Rosetta shook his head, "What I envy is not only the resources that Gawain Cecil holds, but rather his keen mind and perspective on things. These traits allow the resources in his hand to always exert greater effect."

Diana’s expression displayed a very human-like confusion, "Why do you say that?"

"You’re just returning, the news may be delayed," Rosetta stated, as he picked up a transcribed document from the table and handed it to Diana, "Before you set foot in the castle, the Cecil Clan sent this to us via a temporary communication line."

Diana took the document curiously, scanning its contents in an instant, while Rosetta continued, "Aside from matters regarding the armistice agreement, Gawain Cecil also mentioned another thing, a ’proposal to establish the Mortal Nations Community Alliance.’ He hopes to take advantage of this war, which has brought attention from the entire continent, to reveal the threat of divine disasters and use the influence of Cecil and Typhon in their respective settlement zones to establish a vast... order spanning the entire continent."

"...An ambitious idea," Diana set down the document and commented appreciatively, "But at this point in time, it may be possible to realize—though according to my calculations, not all nations will respond to his call, as long as some nations are willing to join, this ’alliance’ will have world-shaking power. For those nations far from this war, the threat of divine disasters may not be so apparent, but the economic benefits after joining this alliance are obviously tangible."

"Yes, obviously tangible, and the Cecil Clan has always been adept in economic strategy," Rosetta said, "they will undoubtedly make good use of their strengths in this area."

At this point, he suddenly chuckled, shaking his head, "While many minds are still fixated on sieging and conquering territories, he has already begun planning a new order for this world."

"Then what do you think?" Diana raised her head, quietly observing Rosetta’s reaction.

"...He says he’s not an idealist, yet now he places an incredibly idealistic vision before me. I want to face this ’invitation’ with absolute rationality, but unfortunately, this world is not entirely rational..." Rosetta sighed softly, or perhaps in admiration, "Sometimes we need to take a little risk to face future challenges—this invitation, I accept."