Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 612 - 611: Turbulent Kingdoms

The sky was gloomy, and unsettling winds blew in from the plains, carrying the lingering chill into the city. Under the dim daylight, Count Pompeii stood on the terrace of the family’s castle, feeling even gloomier than the weather.

Increasing rumors were spreading between the city and the countryside. The contents of these rumors made people especially uneasy. Some said a terrible plague had broken out in the Gigantic Tree Path area, others claimed the Anzu Kingdom’s military had already suffered a catastrophic defeat, and that key cities and strongholds had fallen one after another. Various messages were chaotic, and even nobles like the count could not obtain accurate intelligence from the north—this was the most unsettling part.

The view from the castle terrace was expansive, allowing one to overlook the entire city and the vast plains beyond. Count Pompeii, whose figure was slightly stout, wore a warm thick coat and leaned on a cane, gazing into the distance against the cold wind. His gaze first swept over the northern direction’s hills and forests—not long ago, a peculiar team from Rocky Ridges Fortress had passed along the edge of his territory, heading north. That team was led by an Elf Ranger, traveling in strange magic vehicles and carrying unusual equipment. They had not stated their mission or destination but carried passage documents signed by Duke Gawain Cecil.

Count Pompeii did not dare to obstruct them.

But judging from the team’s disciplined performance and the direction of their advance, the count could easily guess their actions were perhaps related to the recent changes in the northern situation.

His eyes moved along the hills and plains, and the shimmering Duoergong river came into view, followed by the distant continuous mountains and the misty Rocky Ridges Fortress among them. That towering fortress remained shrouded under a layer of magical shield, together with the mountains and walls, blocking all sights looking south.

Since the Cecil Clan regained control of the southern borders, that land has closed its doors—of course, its physical ”doors” would still open periodically, and even a rocky ridges town would be open to visitors. But symbolically, the ”doors” of the southern borders have remained closed since that unification war ended, until today.

The surveillance and control system the kingdom spent a hundred years building was cut off entirely. Now no one knows what the revived founding king is brewing within his realm, nor does anyone know the changes happening in that land over the past two years. People can only rely on bizarre stories brought by merchants and adventurers and catch fleeting glimpses in the rocky ridges town to guess. Besides guessing the culture of the southern borders, another focus for the curious is the main gate of Rocky Ridges Fortress—when will that gate open, under what circumstances will it open?

This is perhaps a more perplexing mystery than the northern situation at present.

Perhaps when that gate opens, his role as the ”Earl of the Lands” will come to an end.

Nestled against Rocky Ridges Fortress, his entire family was within the range of its cannons, lacking royal support. Having lost almost all his military forces in the last southern borders war, Count Pompeii’s territory’s economic lifeline was now tightly controlled by merchants from the Cecil Clan. He had endured this agonizing situation for a long time, but now seemed to have come to terms with it.

He gazed pensively at Rocky Ridges Fortress, and with the vision of a transcendent, he could vaguely see the fortress and the scene at the Duoergong river mouth without the aid of the bird’s eye spell. In this contemplative gaze, he suddenly saw a sight that shook his heart—at first, he thought he had seen incorrectly, but soon he confirmed through bird’s eye that he had seen it clearly.

The main gate at the western river mouth of Rocky Ridges Fortress had opened—in the past, only a side gate would open to allow merchant ships in and out, but now the entire Duoergong river mouth was wide open.

Three large ships with ”wings” spread wide, without sails or oars, were sailing on the Duoergong river, heading north.

Count Pompeii widened his eyes, the magical brilliance of the bird’s eye spell flashed before his eyes, and he watched clearly as a series of small vessels followed the three big ships emerging from the gate. He saw cannon towers on top of the fortress rising from hidden locations, saw countless Soldiers running along the city walls...

The main gate of Rocky Ridges Fortress remained closed at this moment, but Count Pompeii suddenly realized one thing—

The southern borders have opened.

...

St. Soniel City remained prosperous and bustling in the Inner and Outer City Districts. The arrival of the Revival Festival and a timely rainstorm days before hinted at a good harvest this year. The city officials opened the markets early, and affluent royal capital residents held numerous celebrations in various districts. Even the poorer commoners in the Outer City District joined the festivities. The lively and bustling scene seemed to completely obscure the long-standing clouds over the kingdom—the internal strife in the plains region, the alteration of the wasteland barrier—all these unsettling issues were overshadowed by the surface celebration activities.

Yet deep within the royal capital, inside the Silver Castle, the rulers of this nation had already sensed the turbulent atmosphere in the air.

In the upper area of the castle, inside a study covered with royal blue velvet, Wales Moen sat behind the desk, Baldwin Franklin standing beside him. Opposite them stood a royal Mage wearing a black, starry robe with white hair and beard. The old Mage was reporting the situation with a guilty face: ”...still can’t connect with the Mountain Corps, Prince, Duke, communication spell with the Gigantic Tree Path has been interrupted, and no response from Duchess Victoria Wilder either...”

Wales’s face was as cold as water, and Duke Franklin beside him asked in place: ”The communication spell is broken, what about the fire beacon?”

”All fire beacons are unlit, Duke.”

After a brief silence, Franklin nodded: ”...Alright, thank you for your hard work, Master Rotas.”

The old Mage left, and the Duke of the West bowed his head to look at Wales seated in the chair: ”We should send another batch of gryphon messengers and another team of knights through the ’Valley Corridor’—perhaps the magic power surge common in spring has affected the communication spell’s effectiveness.”

Wales nodded expressionlessly: ”You arrange as you see fit, Duke Franklin—I’m a bit tired.”

”Then I’ll handle the matter,” Baldwin Franklin bent slightly, hand on chest, and said with impeccable courtesy, ”Rest assured, Your Highness.”

As the Duke of the West left the room, Wales Moen sat quietly behind the desk for a while. His gaze swept over a few documents just sent over that required his review. After a brief pause, he continued moving his gaze to the side, eventually landing on a stack of materials on the desk.

The crown prince thought for a moment, reached out to pull out those materials, and placed them in front to examine them closely.

Some key contents on the materials slid through his vision:

Activities of the Oblivion Association believers... Dark rituals... Several small-scale epidemics around the Gigantic Tree Path entrance...

These materials were not timely; many were even intelligence from the end of last year. Due to the difficulty of winter roads and inconvenient passage for messengers, they were not delivered to the Silver Castle until today.

Wales knows that Duke Franklin must also have a copy, but he probably hasn’t had time to read it — after all, compared to the ”nominal crown prince,” the Regent Duke who truly needs to handle state affairs is much busier, and these ”little matters” involving evil cult followers and dark rituals are not worth prioritizing.

As he carefully flipped through, Charlie Moen’s brow gradually furrowed.

Outside the study door, a figure clad in a Holy White Robe, surrounded by a gentle Holy Light, paused briefly. Veronica’s hand was already on the doorknob, but before she turned it, her hand suddenly stopped.

An indistinct, illusory heartbeat echoed in the ears of this ”Saint Princess,” and she raised her head to glance southeast, a profound solemnity appearing on her always calm face.

”Someone has walked the forbidden path,” Veronica whispered, as if speaking to herself, ”The situation has changed...”

Without hesitation, she abandoned her plan to visit her brother Wales Moen’s study, turned around, and left the door. Accompanied by a flash of light, her figure transformed into pure Holy Light, vanishing into the castle corridor.

Moments later, this pure Holy Light flowed into the Cathedral of the Holy Light beside Silver Castle, and through the Holy Light Cloud Summit at its top, it coalesced and descended before the Pope Saint Ivan III’s throne.

The Great Hall of Radiance was empty save for the Pope himself, who was seated in the center of focused Holy Light, devoutly engaged in meditation and silent prayer. Veronica’s arrival interrupted Saint Ivan III’s prayers, and the extremely aged elder slowly opened his eyes, his clouded pupils quickly filling with pure light: ”Veronica, the most devoted child of the Lord — weren’t you going to visit Lord Wales at the castle?”

”Your Eminence, I suddenly heard a revelation from the Holy Light,” Veronica said softly, her expression concerned. ”Shadows are gathering, someone is challenging God’s authority, attempting to taint the Lord’s land.”

Saint Ivan III’s ancient face remained unchanged, but the Holy Light Cloud Summit encompassing the entire Great Hall of Radiance suddenly surged. Behind the Pope’s throne, the light silhouette resembling a tree expanded instantly, countless ”fruits” suspended at the ends of branches opened their ”eyes,” as if a powerful presence hidden in another world had momentarily cast its gaze upon this one — before this, Veronica had already unobtrusively averted her gaze, not making eye contact with the ”Tree of Holy Light” behind the Pope. A moment later, the ”tree” returned to its initial state.

Subsequently, Saint Ivan III’s expression began to change, his eyes widened slightly: ”That is a serious act of desecration. Where is it occurring?”

”On the battlefield where the Anzu Kingdom’s military and the Duke of the East confront each other, an evil heterodox cult has turned it into a sacrificial altar. A large number of Holy Church Army dispatched by the church have already been tainted by dark forces.”

At this point, Veronica paused briefly, raising her eyes to gaze at Saint Ivan III: ”...Your Eminence, it’s time to prepare to defend the Lord’s glory.”

Amidst the flowing Holy Light in the entire Great Hall of Radiance, Saint Ivan III’s gaze grew slightly distant, then murmured dreamily: ”It is time to prepare to defend the Lord’s glory...”

...

Praying to the gods seems to be increasingly ineffective.

In the wilderness of the southeast section of the Plains of the Holy Spirits, Belk Loren trudged laboriously through mud and stones.

His cloak was tattered, with only a few shreds clinging to the clasps on his shoulders. His light armor was cracked and blemished, covered in scars accumulated from numerous battles. The wounds he sustained days ago had yet to heal, serving as a constant sharp reminder, but Belk did not halt his steps and continued advancing through the wilderness.

Because he had no knowledge of how far the deadly corruption had spread or how far those creatures could pursue him.

After crossing a small stream, Belk paused. He raised his head to look at the sun, oriented himself, and then drew a small War God Talisman from his bosom, beginning a brief prayer to the deity he revered for the blessing and restoration of his spirit and body.

However, the prayer had nearly no effect.

It seemed the accumulated fatigue and pain over the days had surpassed the limits of divine blessing.

Belk sighed, put away the small talisman, and then surveyed the surroundings.

No signs of human habitation were apparent, and indeed, he had encountered no trace of humans for days.

He intentionally avoided populated areas, fearing that places inhabited by humans might already be contaminated by the ”Crystal Cluster Curse,” but he also hadn’t come across any merchants or travelers on his journey... This was either a sheer coincidence or a sign of an even more terrifying reason.

Belk shook his head, dismissing those bleak thoughts from his mind, knowing he had a long journey ahead and could not afford to scare himself before reaching his destination.

He aimed to travel south, toward the Cecil Principality.

Paths to the northern parts of the mountain range were occupied by Crystal Cluster Giants, and routes to the Duke of the East faced similar conditions, leaving only the directions west and south as potentially uncorrupted. After considering his options, he chose to head south.

No particular reason, but in this dire situation, intuition was the best guide, and his gut told him to head to the southern borders and relay warning information so the Guardians there could quickly learn about the situation at the Gigantic Tree Path Entrance.

Duke Gawain Cecil had warned this nation more than once; now was the time to repay that action.

Belk took a deep breath, adjusted his course, and set off toward the southern borders.