Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 334 - 333: In the Last Days of This Winter

A cold wind rustled the nearby flags, bringing the sound of flapping. Ropeni Ge’lan raised her head and quietly observed the ancient castle in the distance.

The two-hundred-year-old Riftstone Castle sat silently on the hilltop, with sheer cliffs alongside the castle standing like a blade on the horizon. The setting sun shone on the rugged rocks and the tall castle walls, casting a layer of pale golden light upon those lines.

It was a stone mountain, one side of the mountain steep and treacherous, with Riftstone Castle perched atop that sheer cliff, like it was crouched on the blade’s edge. The ancient castle’s outer walls had long been mottled, with many places showing signs of cracking. When the setting sun shone on the castle from just the right angle, parts of its outer walls even let through the light from the opposite side, displaying vein-like bright fissure lines on the walls.

There were always those who feared, feared when this old castle might collapse in the sunset, and countless tons of heavy boulders would roll down from that cliff top, burying the most glorious surname of this land in an earth-shaking catastrophe.

But Ropeni recalled her husband’s words, recalling the ancient pact between the castle and the spirit of the earth elementals, a contract established when the Gran Family was merely a peripheral vassal of the Cecil Clan, a pact made by the family’s ancestors with the alliance of earth elementals: as long as the surname "Gran" ruled over this land, Riftstone Castle would never collapse naturally...

However, the cracks in this fortress were indeed becoming increasingly numerous over the years...

"Mistress," the butler’s voice interrupted Ropeni’s thoughts. The steady and dependable middle-aged man handed a wooden box to the Lady Viscount, "Here is the soil sample you requested."

Ropeni looked at the deep-colored soil in the wooden box, reached out to grab a bit between her fingers, and gently rubbed it. Then, a slight glow of magical power appeared between her fingers, and the soil transformed into a wisp of blue smoke that drifted away in the magical glow.

"The potion has taken effect," Ropeni’s perpetually gloomy expression seemed to ease a little. She nodded slightly to the butler, "Half of the estates on the territory need this Druid potion to restore the land’s balance before spring. Go and negotiate with those Cecil potion merchants to see what price they offer."

"Yes," the butler bowed his head, then couldn’t help but add, "Mistress, you really needn’t leave the castle in person; there’s no need to come to this dirty countryside. These farmers around here are crude and ignorant; they might offend you."

"You’ve said similar things enough," Ropeni gave the butler a light look, "Just do your job properly."

The butler hastily lowered his head, not daring to express any further opinions.

"Duke Gawain Cecil will visit in five days," Ropeni broke the silence after a few seconds, "Start the preparations once you return."

"The Duke will visit?" The butler was startled at once, but upon seeing the calm and indifferent expression on his mistress’s face, he immediately swallowed all his questions and idle chatter, "I understand. I will prepare the most appropriate reception. But do we need to arrange anything extra for the Duke’s reasons for visiting?"

"It’s just a routine meeting," Ropeni said lightly, "The Kant region finally became a legitimate fief of the Cecil Clan."

"Kant... I see."

Several days later.

A two-horse carriage bearing the emblem of the Cecil Clan traveled on the road east of the Kant territory. Ahead lay the place governed by the Gran Family for generations.

Apart from the coachman driving the carriage and the three soldiers in the back half, the only people inside were Gawain and Amber.

"This is even less ceremonious than the last time we went to the Kant territory," Amber, sitting opposite Gawain, couldn’t help but start muttering, "I mean, you’re at least a Duke, so even if you’re visiting a noble ranked lower than you, you should pay a little attention to your display, right? At least have a couple more carriages and more attendants..."

Gawain looked at the half-elf lady opposite him with some amusement. He knew what was on her mind. Amber didn’t actually care about the level of display; she was just upset that, after finally getting the chance to serve a Duke, there hadn’t yet been an opportunity to enjoy the experience of stepping out with a parade of carriages, escorted by hundreds of attendants, with drums and horns announcing the way into town—a slightly simple and naïve longing for a grand and glorious lifestyle without any spiritual pursuit.

If there was ever a spiritual pursuit for her, it would probably be to participate in a trickery and deception competition in her lifetime and come home with a championship...

"And you laugh!" Amber rolled her eyes at Gawain, displeased with his half-smiling expression. "I’ve seen an Earl travel with seven or eight carriages before!"

"Carriages... they’re bound to be replaced eventually," Gawain shook his head with a smile. "When the time comes, I’ll let you ride something even more exciting than a carriage."

"Something more exciting than a carriage?" Amber’s face was immediately filled with curiosity, "What new invention are you working on now?"

"Not yet, just a concept at the moment. However, the timing and technical conditions aren’t mature yet," Gawain waved his hand. "Instead, let’s keep talking about the Gran Family. Besides the few suspicious points regarding the late Viscount Gran’s unexpected death a few years ago, what else have you uncovered?"

"We have to go back further," Amber said, "Before the last Viscount Gran’s untimely death, he had implemented a series of almost incredible ’new laws’ in his territory. At the time, not only his territory but even the surrounding nobles were affected to some extent..."

"New laws?" Gawain frowned, "Tell me more about these."

"Oh, then we must start from when he liberated all the serfs and slaves in his territory..."

...

As Duke Cecil’s carriage approached Gran Territory, a messenger dressed in a red and blue robe, raised high with a flag of passage, was galloping on horseback through the central avenue of St. Soniel.

The flag represented the King’s emblem, and no one dared to obstruct the messenger holding it. Pedestrians on the road frantically and fearfully avoided the galloping steed, as the usually peaceful life of the royal capital was shattered on this day. Yet, at this moment, they did not know what was about to happen—they merely watched in astonishment and curiosity as the messenger sped away, speculating on the nature of the message being carried.

The messenger passed King’s Boulevard, crossed the arc-shaped plaza in front of Silver Castle, and then dismounted in front of the castle, raising the flag high all the way as he rushed towards the King’s location.

In just a few minutes, a piece of intelligence from the western region of the Plains of the Holy Spirits was placed before Francis II.

This urgent intelligence disrupted Francis II’s mood quite unpleasantly, as today was a rare occasion when Veronica left the cathedral to gather with him at Silver Castle. For a kingly father and his saintly daughter, this was a precious and special moment, yet it was disrupted.

Veronica, upon seeing the newly arrived intelligence, gave a reassuring gentle smile and softly said, "Father, state affairs are important."

"I know," Francis II sighed, picking up the intelligence from the table, "but during this period, I do not wish to receive any ’unexpected situation’ messages... Those greedy aristocrats are insatiable, they never consider this kingdom at all, only bringing me trouble."

Veronica smiled lightly: "Perhaps it’s not news concerning the aristocracy?"

Francis II forced a slight smile and opened the intelligence envelope.

In the next half-minute, the smile on his face gradually faded.

Veronica noted the change in her father’s expression: "Father, what does it say..."

"See for yourself," Francis II handed the secret letter to his daughter, "this is something you should see—as it will soon reach the Cathedral of the Holy Light."

Veronica, with a curious frown, took the letter, and its contents met her gaze:

"...In the Plains of the Holy Spirits region, conflicts between followers of the Holy Light and Blood God are intensifying... On XX day of XX month, a violent conflict erupted between the followers in The White City, with radical Blood God followers destroying the statue in front of the Church of the Holy Light... The next day, the Holy Light believers retaliated, and the Blood God church was burned down.

"My Lord..." Veronica exclaimed in shock and sorrow, drawing the emblem of the Holy Light across her chest with her hand, "Even in defense of faith, must it come to this?"

Francis II glanced at his daughter, shaking his head: "Keep reading."

Veronica moved to the latter part of the secret letter, unable to hold back a gasp:

"...The District Bishop of the Blood God church led believers in a counterattack but was critically injured en route to the Church of the Holy Light by a concealed ambush, transforming into a monstrous hybrid of flesh and blood just before perishing, with many witnesses present on the scene...

"The leader of The White City and the district bishop of the Holy Light church jointly killed the monster... They then searched the Blood God church, discovering a hidden chamber beneath it, laden with signs of bloody rituals... Additionally finding the Oblivion Association’s insignia and notes filled with blasphemous knowledge and malevolent rhetoric...

"...All Blood God churches in The White City have been sealed off... Half of the followers have been expelled..."

"A district-bishop level figure turned out to be a follower of the Oblivion Association..." Veronica murmured in disbelief, "They have infiltrated to such a degree..."

"So you should understand now, my daughter," Francis II said, his expression grim, "understand why I’ve constantly said Anzu is unprepared for war with Typhon... especially this year."

Veronica remained silent for a moment, handing the letter back to the old king: "Father, how do you plan to handle this matter?"

"Royal authority should not interfere with theocracy, nor should theocracy interfere with royal authority, that has been the long-standing rule. But now, blood has been shed, and the King must take action," Francis II said in a deep voice, "We’ve been searching for those evil cult followers, even started investigating every aristocrat, probing transcendent individuals registered by the royal family, yet we overlooked the church... Never did I think the church, seemingly least prone to corruption by evil cult followers, too would become a breeding ground for malice."

Francis II clenched his fist, striking the table involuntarily: "Veronica, the church must undergo inspection, yet... I can’t allow this to further destabilize the kingdom."

"Father, I can ensure the Holy Light church’s cooperation. Any rational follower of the Holy Light would understand this— rooting out the evil cult followers lurking amongst us benefits everyone," Veronica spoke solemnly, the power of the Holy Light emanating from her, casting a layer of sacred radiance, "I trust other religions will actively cooperate once they learn of what transpired in The White City... No one wishes to have evil cult followers hiding within their own homes."