Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 454 - 453: How to Respond

The deterioration of the situation in the southern borders is an unexpected crisis.

The Second Dynasty did not ignore the Cecil Clan—the fact is, ever since the turmoil of Fog Month a hundred years ago, the new royal family with hidden inheritance risks has never relaxed its vigilance against the southern borders. Among the four protectorate dukes, the Cecil Clan is the only one that declined due to the Fog Month turmoil. When it began declining, its remaining forces were still sufficient to shake the entire kingdom’s foundation. The Second Dynasty, with the support of the other three protectorate dukes, took a whole hundred years to divide and suppress the southern borders to the current situation, clearly indicating its emphasis on the southern borders.

After Gawain suddenly rose from the grave, this emphasis became even more pronounced.

Francis II ordered the southern aristocrats to increase surveillance on the Cecil Clan’s forces but only received intelligence that the Cecil Clan was doing potion business to purchase slaves; spies mixed within the royal aid team sent to the southern borders soon ceased transmitting any reports; actually, the troops guarding rocky ridges Fortress increased by thirty percent over the past half year, yet the added soldiers served no purpose; besides, the royal advisors also estimated the construction progress within the Cecil area by investigating the number of craftsmen the Cecil Clan hired in the royal capital, concluding that the Cecil area was still at the stage of lacking enough housing—what they never considered was that those craftsmen were being trained as Mage Technicians and Mechanical Scholars once arriving in the south...

Silver Castle can be said to have taken all the correct responses but received no correct feedback. Their biggest mistake was using traditional aristocratic thinking to speculate the actions of a "satellite spirit" from another world, whose experiential knowledge and way of thinking diverged significantly from ordinary people.

They wrongly estimated the true intentions behind each of Gawain Cecil’s actions, wrongly estimated the Cecil Clan’s rise, and finally, wrongly judged the speed of the fall of rocky ridges Fortress.

If the direction is incorrect, any effort is just a waste of energy.

The situation has worsened to this point.

"Dukes, Your Highness, I must speak frankly," Cromwell Whiteshill said gravely, "unless the Eastern Territory Rebels immediately retreat today, we cannot take back rocky ridges Fortress."

Another knight lord stood up, speaking of the worst possibility: "If the Cecil Clan, like the Loland Clan, raises troops to attack the royal capital, we cannot win—just judging from the fall of rocky ridges Fortress, Cecil’s army is indeed a formidable enemy."

A nobleman on site couldn’t help but say: "Even the knight lords fear the enemy?"

Cromwell Whiteshill glared at the nobleman: "We are merely stating the facts. If they indeed attack the royal capital, the pioneering knights will fight until the last moment, there’s no need for you to worry about that."

"Gentlemen, calm down," Victoria Wilder interrupted the debate. Her voice was chilly, and her eyes seemed to contain frost, "Duke Gawain Cecil has merely occupied rocky ridges Fortress—he has not yet headed north."

"We need to ascertain the purpose of that founding hero first," Duke Baldwin Franklin nodded, echoing Victoria’s words, "I suggest dispatching envoys to engage with the southern borders."

The nobles on site began to murmur, but overall, no one objected to Duke Franklin’s opinion.

"The Eastern Territory rebellion is pressing us, and we cannot afford another cut in the south," Duke Franklin continued, "so as long as Duke Gawain Cecil is willing to negotiate, we should negotiate. We should be prepared, prepared to recognize the Cecil Clan’s legitimate dominion over the southern borders, recognize the restoration of all noble titles, honorary titles, historical fiefs, and aristocratic privileges of the Cecil Clan..."

The nobles’ discussions grew louder, some displaying obvious expressions of shock, but more had grim faces nodding silently. Wales Moen watched these reactions, sighing softly.

"Your Highness," Duchess Victoria heard Wales’s sigh, turning to him with eyes clear as crystal, "Do you have anything to say?"

"I just think that whether we acknowledge these or not doesn’t matter to that founding hero," Wales Moen hadn’t intended to speak, but under the duchess’s gaze, he slowly began, "These things are already in his hands—regardless of what we say here, the reconstruction of the Cecil Principality is already a fait accompli. Duke Franklin, do you intend to gift what’s already in Duke Cecil’s hands back to him once more?"

Duke Baldwin Franklin’s expression didn’t change at all, merely nodding slightly, saying blandly: "His Highness’s thoughts are correct."

"We’d better consider what bargaining chips we still have that can be used for compromise."

Saying this, Wales Moen lowered his eyelids and spoke no more.

Francis II’s voice seemed to echo in this middle-aged crown prince’s mind:

"Kings ruling the kingdoms...is the art of compromise..."

The meeting concluded.

The nobles left the venue sequentially, accompanied by royal chamberlains, leaving behind only the two regent dukes in the vast military hall.

After a long silence, Duchess Victoria finally looked at Duke Franklin: "What do you think our founding hero intends to do?"

"I hope he merely wants to reclaim his inheritance, which is also the most logical, and aligns most with historical accounts," the Duke of the West replied with measured calmness, "but I don’t rule out worse possibilities—don’t forget the names on the Anzu Foundation Stone Stele, and the signatures on the oldest seal documents in the Royal Library; from a certain perspective, his claim to the throne is no less than that of our ’crown prince’."

"Wales Moen..." Victoria Wilder whispered, recalling the crown prince’s only remark during the earlier meeting. "He is actually the most like Francis II..."

Duke Franklin shook his head slightly: "But precisely because he is too similar, Francis II ultimately chose Edmund. In this regard, our king made the wrong decision—this country does not need an overly rigid king."

Victoria lifted her eyelids, giving the Duke of the West a deep look, then stood up: "I will return to the north soon."

Franklin raised an eyebrow: "Are you going to deploy your Mountain Legion?"

"The Sacred Dragon Kingdom is preparing to celebrate their ’Day of the Dragon’s Arrival’, and the Violet Kingdom has been very calm recently. I can allocate a portion of the Mountain Legion to respond to the battles on the Plains of the Holy Spirits," said the duchess, surrounded by an aura of ice and snow, while looking towards the Duke of the West. "And what of your Western Legion?"

"The distance from the West to the eastern front is too far, and the consumption of the army on the march is unbearable. Besides, since early summer, the Oblivion Association followers and the Eternal Sleepers in the western regions have not been quiet," Baldwin Franklin said as he wearily held his forehead. "I might be able to dispatch a pioneering knights to defend the royal capital, but it is impossible to send troops eastward."

Snowflakes floated in the air, and Duchess Victoria draped her white shawl over her shoulders, leaving her seat to walk towards the door: "The royal capital doesn’t need more pioneering knights, Count Cromwell is enough to guard here. If you have extra forces, keep an eye on the south."

The duchess departed, leaving only a few icy snowflakes floating in the air. Baldwin Franklin extended his hand to catch one, feeling its chill gradually melt in his palm. He sighed softly: "...Is it really as those lunatics babble on about... the darkest times..."

Four days later, in the capital of the Anzu Northern Border, Bitter Winter Castle.

A squad of Gryphon Knights flew over the fortress, with the lead gryphon skillfully landing on the castle’s top platform. Victoria Wilder jumped down from the gryphon, and the cold northern wind from the mountains blew through her silver-white hair, causing her to squint slightly.

Even in the height of summer, the peaks of the northern continent’s mountains still carried such cold winds.

The "Dragonblood nobility" of the Sacred Dragon Kingdom claimed this cold wind was the breath of sleeping dragons in the mountains, while the mage scholars of the Violet Kingdom believed the cold air came from even further north, beyond the vast ice and storm-locked ocean, from that ancient and unyielding vortex.

But Victoria didn’t care where the cold wind came from; she simply enjoyed this cold atmosphere. The clean, cold air from the mountains was far more comfortable than the tainted and odorous air of the royal capital.

Her black-haired maid, Maji, arrived on the platform, and Victoria nodded to her trusted servant, "Gather my knight retainers; the Mountain Legion has work to do."

"Yes."

The duchess held absolute authority in this land. The Mountain Legion, loyal to the Wilder Clan, unquestioningly accepted the orders of their "Ice Lady." After a brief military meeting, about one-third of the Mountain Legion was mobilized, enlisted on the list to support the eastern front of the Plains of the Holy Spirits.

After the meeting adjourned, Victoria did not return to her chambers to rest. Despite enduring a long journey on gryphon-back and conducting a meeting, she still focused her mind on reviewing the documents in front of her.

"Vicki, you need to rest,"

the black-haired maid said beside her—using a familiar nickname for her mistress when others weren’t around.

"I will rest," Victoria replied casually, "Has there been any unusual activity from the Sacred Dragon Kingdom lately?"

"The intelligence from the northern outpost reports everything is normal."

Victoria exhaled softly, feeling slightly reassured.

The Sacred Dragon Kingdom in the northern mountains... has always been an unstable factor.

As far back as Gondor’s time, humans claiming to be descendants of dragon blood established this nation at the extreme northern edge of the continent. They proclaimed themselves vassals of dragons, so the nation’s highest ruler isn’t a king but the so-called "Grand Duke of Dragonblood." They are a closed, isolationist people, proud of their place among the mountains and have never favored the Anzu, who arrived on these lands seven hundred years ago.

Seven hundred years have passed, and this secluded, mysterious nation still uses "uninvited guests" to describe the Anzu, a kingdom established for seven centuries.

But fortunately, after many years of adjustment, a compromise and balance were finally reached between the Sacred Dragon Kingdom and Anzu. As the northern protector, one of Victoria Wilder’s responsibilities is to be ever vigilant of this sensitive, closed-off, isolationist kingdom and to do her utmost to avoid a war between the two sides.

After finally finishing the documents before her, Victoria Wilder stretched, taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling, easing the fatigue accumulated in her body. Her black-haired maid stepped forward, gently massaging her mistress’s shoulders while softly asking, "Ready to rest now?"

"No, there’s one more thing," the duchess said, closing her eyes and pausing for quite a while before continuing, "Prepare; I want to visit the tomb of the Cecil Clan."