Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 316 - 315: A Step Forward

Amber naturally knew that Gawain’s ’rules’ were different from those elsewhere, just as Gawain’s entire way of thinking was different from others.

Would a normal person sell their advanced technological achievements to the outside world? Would a normal person try to make Magic, which should belong exclusively to aristocrats and Transcendents, as cheap as cabbages? Would a normal person establish an Administrative Office and a whole administrative system, delegating powers that should belong solely to the leader to ’civil servants’ of lowly aristocratic or even common birth?

Gawain did it all, and every time with reasonable justification.

"Now the Magic Web has begun to spread in the southern borders. Prototypes have already appeared in the noble territories near the Leslie and Kant territories. Some wealthy and well-informed major aristocrats have also gotten word of the Magic-Powered Engine. They would likely be very interested. Just as you initially planned, with Viscount Andrew, rather than people from Cecil, handling the sales, this eased the concerns of the southern aristocrats. If nothing unexpected happens when spring comes and commerce routes are clear, we’ll have a continuous influx of substantial revenue—just in time to purchase more raw ores and increase our population."

Upon hearing Amber’s report, Gawain nodded slightly: "Viscount Andrew is a familiar face in the southern borders. His connections can help us get the original Magic Web and Magic-Powered Engine into the hands of other nobles, and as soon as they taste a hint of the benefits... they won’t be able to refuse the subsequent advantages."

"There’s also news sent by Patrick. Alchemical potions are still selling well in winter. Some merchants have even taken root at the Eastern Border and the Plains of the Holy Spirits. However, the massive inventory of cheap potions in their hands has also caught the attention of local leaders, which concerns Patrick a bit," Amber reported earnestly, "He worries those aristocrats, driven by profit, might squeeze the merchants’ distribution channels... His exact words were: Not every aristocrat is as honest and trustworthy as Duke Cecil, doing business with a conscience."

Gawain raised his eyelids: "What exactly is the situation? I suppose he sent more than just complaints, right?"

"You really can’t be fooled," Amber scratched her head, "He said there have already been some rather nasty incidents. In places somewhat to the north, local nobles have detained our potion merchants, demanding they sell half of their goods at an extremely low price. If not, they would declare our potion merchants as illegal traders."

Gawain looked interested: "Oh? Extremely low price? How low is that?"

"...One-third, even one-quarter," Amber showed a look of indignation, "That’s outright robbery!"

Gawain couldn’t help but laugh: "Hmm... with the current selling price and the costs at the Alchemy Factory, even at one quarter, there’s still profit."

"You’re laughing?" Amber was dumbfounded seeing Gawain’s expression, "They are robbing Cecil’s money! If it weren’t for your name, they’d probably not only demand part of the goods but outright plunder the merchants!"

"Outright plundering merchants wouldn’t be good; that would make no one dare continue selling potions in their territories, and my hand wouldn’t reach in," Gawain pondered while stroking his chin, "Hmm, write Patrick an instruction for me, telling him that the merchants who have already gained a foothold should proactively engage with local nobles. It’s only one quarter of the price? Fine, Cecil is willing to sell potions to them in large quantities at one quarter of the price. Our potion merchants can even set aside half of each shipment specifically for them, with the condition that those local leaders must protect the distribution rights of Cecil’s potion merchants within their territories and prevent traditional herbalists and Alchemists from suppressing and squeezing the potion merchants."

Seeing Amber’s dumbfounded expression, Gawain deliberately asked with a smile: "Do you think those local leaders will agree to these terms?"

Amber hesitated a long time before finally responding: "Of course they’ll agree! Only a fool wouldn’t! Just a few copper coins for a bottle of alchemical potion! They’d protect the potion merchants even without you saying anything, possibly even helping them with transportation! But what good does it do you to do this..."

Gawain interrupted before Amber could finish: "What do you think those local leaders will do with the cheap alchemical potions they purchase?"

"Do with them?" Amber was momentarily stunned, "Well, it’s not like they’re going to use them for mouthwash..."

"They definitely won’t be for personal use," the half-elf young lady looked adorable in her confused state, but Gawain didn’t plan to tease her this time, "Our alchemical potions are diluted ’inferior goods,’ though still valuable to common folks and adventurers, they are far from the aristocrats’ standard. Those local leaders surely knew this beforehand, so there’s only one reason they’re purchasing potions in such quantities—it’s for their personnel, their private soldiers, guards, and minions."

Amber wasn’t dull-minded; sometimes her habitual thinking made her slow to catch on. With just a little nudge from Gawain, she understood what the cunning old man was plotting.

"You mean..."

"Massive distribution, as much as they want, the generous Duke Cecil will enable every noble army in the southern borders to use high-quality, low-priced alchemical potions. The brave soldiers will no longer need to smear stinky black ointments and mud concoctions on their wounds. During this, I will only charge a tiny, negligible cost," Gawain leaned back in his chair, speaking unhurriedly, "With good alchemical potions, nobody will want to go back to those nearly ineffective herbal ointments and witch methods, and the expensive traditional alchemical potions will quickly vanish. Do you know what this implies?"

Amber instinctively touched her neck: "This is what you referred to last time... the noose?"

"Exactly, the noose," Gawain took a gentle breath, "None of them want to see the Cecil Clan regain its footing, so they’ll desperately try to bleed the Cecil Clan dry using what they believe are clever methods, and I’ll oblige, while conveniently slipping a noose around each of their necks."

After a moment, Gawain smiled and gave Amber a glance: "Diluted alchemical potions, have quite a short shelf life."

In the large laboratory of the Rune Research Center, Pittman accepted Jenni’s invitation to observe a special magic circle.

This unkempt old Druid still carried an appearance that made others wary, despite being the leader in Druid spells and Mage Alchemy industry, overseeing dozens of apprentices along with his own research team and projects. He still wore a simple and worn-out gray cotton robe, with all sorts of useful and useless amulets hanging everywhere on his body. A head of messy white hair covered his head, pressed down by a faded earth-colored soft hat, and his sharp little eyes kept darting around under the scattered hair at the brim of the hat. Upon seeing him, anyone’s first instinct would be that this old man might suddenly pull out a deck of cards to tell your fortune rather than associating him with any ’theurgy rune expert’ or ’Druid mentor.’

But he was indeed an expert in this field.

Pittman carefully observed the large baseboard on the central experimental platform. On the board, various combinable rune blocks and magic lines together sketched a magic circle full of mysterious aura, and some silk threads made of non-conductive materials were pinned on the surface of the magic circle to divide different functional areas of the circle.

——These partitions were temporarily divided by Jenni and Kamel, not precise enough, and could only serve as aids during the research stage.

"These are indeed transformed theurgy runes," Pittman said, nodding as he stroked his beard while looking at the symbols marked with special paint, "Hmm... this confirms one of my hypotheses."

"Hypothesis?" Jenni asked curiously, looking at the old Druid.

"Whether it’s the Nature Sect once believed by Druids or the Dream Realms Sect believed by the Eternal Sleepers, in the process where theurgy was converted into magic, the pioneers conducted very careful ’avoidance’ and ’concealment’ operations," Pittman smiled, a cunning light in his eyes, "These transformed runes reveal only one message..."

Kamel’s unique voice, resonating with arcane energy, came from the side: "Fear."

"That’s right, fear," Pittman chuckled, "The authority of the gods has fallen into the hands of humans, yet humans remain trembling, as if constantly fearing the gods will return, fearing the gods will punish those blasphemers who stole the authority. Even though the pioneers found the rules and techniques to convert theurgy into magic, they still made efforts to disguise their actions, as if deceiving themselves to avoid those deities that might no longer be there."

"The early stages of the defied Plan were the same," Kamel said in a buzzing tone, "Until we confirmed the existence of ’Amoen, the Giant Stag,’ and that He was indeed the fallen God of Nature, only then did our fear slightly diminish."

Jenni had never thought she would one day come in contact with matters like this, but she had become accustomed to it now and instinctively asked, "The God of Dream Realms... could He also have fallen like Amoen, the Giant Stag?"

"It’s hard to say, the oddity of deities surpasses human imagination. Amoen, the Giant Stag’s divine corpse is indeed lying in the shadow realm, but who knows what state the gods of other degenerate sects are in," Pittman chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned closer to the magic circle, "Instead of pondering the current states of those gods, we should focus on understanding how this magic circle operates as soon as possible."

"Regarding that, we’ve made some initial progress," Kamel said, summoning The Sculpture Hand to bring over a half-meter high metal-crystal device from beside the experimental platform.

——It was a small Magic-Powered Obelisk, specially prepared for a laboratory environment.

"At first, we attempted to use ordinary magic power to drive this array, but failed. This array has a special interface; it only reacts to the Eternal Sleepers’ dream spells. Whether activation or control, it requires the assistance of special dream magic. Clearly, this magic circle is incomplete; it cannot operate independently—it requires a spellcaster to perform complementary rituals to complete its magical path," Kamel explained while adjusting the Magic-Powered Obelisk, "This situation is not uncommon; many traditional arrays have this ’incompleteness’ due to suboptimal design and unreasonable architecture, but it has posed a significant challenge for us..."

The Magic-Powered Obelisk started, and a stable magical power field began to envelop the entire Rune Research Center.

"However, later we realized we don’t need to activate the entire array. A crucial part of it, once activated, can achieve unbelievable effects with the diffusion of the magical power field."

Kamel raised his arm filled with arcane energy, sending a small spark striking the magic circle on the experimental platform. A part of the runes within the magic circle immediately lit up, and began to flicker with the changes in the magic Kamel infused.

Almost immediately, Pittman instinctively glanced toward the other side of the laboratory where another large baseboard was mounted on the wall.

On that large baseboard, there was no complete ’Eternal Sleepers Array,’ but only the most basic set of array, yet even that basic array was now flickering with the changes brought by Kamel’s actions.

"Currently, we can only transmit such simple changes, and the transmission is highly susceptible to interference, and the range is also problematic. But at least through this process, we’ve proven one thing:

’The ’black box’ of communication spells is not unbreakable; its principle might be simpler than any of us imagined.’