Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 643 - 642: Gifts and Choices

The morning of the eighth day arrived.

Under the King’s command, the troops within St. Soniel, which still maintained some combat ability, were swiftly organized to execute the first counterattack since the city defense began.

The dispatched troops were divided into two forces: one was the royal Order of Knights loyal to the King, and the other was a mixed troop composed of children of the capital’s aristocrats and private soldiers. The two forces passed through the city gate one after the other under the morning glow, with strikingly different styles—

The royal Order of Knights was small in number, with only forty percent of its original strength remaining. They wore armor already scarred and stained with blood that hadn’t yet been wiped off. They resembled a group of rust-colored war statues, silently crossing the city gate, exuding a restrained yet orderly menace.

In contrast, the other force appeared noisy and flamboyant, with flamboyant flags flying over the troops. The knights, children of nobility, rode tall horses in bright armor with rosy, full faces. It looked like a theatrical troupe in full regalia, making a lively procession. Among the various units with different flags, colorful emblem flags flew high above, serving as a display of aristocratic might—

They would naturally show off, for the forthcoming ”combat” would be an almost risk-free performance, like the annual autumn and winter hunt. People of noble birth, armed with enchanted bows and arrows, would hunt down beasts already driven to the brink in the protective escort of knights. Regardless of the process, as long as the arrow pierces the beast in the end, the bow and arrow wielder could earn a reputation for ”valor.” And now, they were poised to claim that reputation.

After all, the opportunists were well aware of their own blemishes, especially those who had been ready to transfer assets but only pledged allegiance when the King was coronated. They desperately needed some ”battle achievements” to embellish their facades.

These achievements were not meant for the King, but for Duke Gawain Cecil.

He was a Duke with illustrious war merits, now turning the tide with military might. Such a Duke, upon entering the royal capital, would certainly scrutinize the performance of all parties in the previous city defense battle. Thus, promptly accumulating some war accomplishments would serve as resources for future political investments—any discerning individual could see that Anzu’s situation would undergo a complete reshuffle after this war. Both the East and North would weaken, and even the West had suffered significant damage. Only the southern borders were the true victors, much like how the Wilder Clan had taken control of Anzu under the name of ”Regent” after the internal turmoil of the Fog Month ended a hundred years ago.

And as for the King... the poor king, his reign will likely reach its end the moment Duke Gawain Cecil enters the city.

Dressed in finery, Earl Uriel of the capital aristocrats looked back, gazing at the royal flag fluttering over the tall walls of St. Soniel. He couldn’t help but shake his head, lamenting with a northern upper society characteristic arioso: ”Truly pitiful, the King only enjoyed eight days of freedom.”

Another beside him chimed in: ”Indeed, freed from the Wilders, only to welcome the Cecils... who could have imagined it a few years ago?”

Earl Uriel smiled a reserved smile: ”I have purchased a large amount of alchemical potions and magic infantry from the southern borders. As an important client, Duke Gawain Cecil must have some impression of me.”

”Certainly, my friend, your investment acumen is always admirable...”

...

Wales stood atop the city walls, watching the procession in finery march towards the ”Raven Plateau,” remaining silent for a long time.

Duke Baldwin’s voice rose beside him: ”Your Majesty.”

”Look, what a grand procession,” Wales raised his head slightly, indicating with his chin the advancing troop, ”Their armor is brand new, the steeds unscarred, and the flags look as if they just came out of the warehouse. Duke Baldwin, where do you think they were hiding all this time?”

”...Hidden in those people’s filthy guts.”

Wales turned, slightly surprised: ”...You actually know how to curse.”

”Only when necessary,” Duke Baldwin replied impassively, ”More importantly, Your Majesty, are you sure your choice is necessary?”

”I have witnessed with my own eyes the efforts of you and Grand Duke Victoria, seen the confrontation and division between the Reformists and Conservatives, observed how leaders amass wealth and encroach upon freemen’s lands, and encountered so-called ’factory reforms’ turning into new excuses for land enclosure, further displacing commoners. I am well-versed in all the rules governing the upper echelons of this kingdom, and within these rules, I discovered a truth...”

Duke Baldwin quietly looked at the King before him.

”Our reforms failed because we didn’t commit enough, Anzu’s desired prosperity and strength do not lie at the negotiation table.”

After saying this, Wales suddenly laughed: ”And I’m particularly curious about how that founding hero will choose when faced with such a dilemma. I have set up such a stage; will it leave him at a loss even once...”

...

The artillery fire from Hill No. 2 gradually subsided, and in the command post, frontline intelligence was being consistently gathered before Gawain.

Overall, the battle situation was unfolding according to the planned strategy. As those Crystal Cluster Giants transformed into berserk monsters, the matters for the Cecil Legion became simpler—in the absence of command and tactics, the monsters naturally lacked variety, so the formulated tactics would basically adhere to planning as long as no major blunders occurred. As the officers and soldiers gradually adapted to this battlefield, it could be said that the situation was unlikely to change drastically.

On the Magic Web Terminal above the map table, Sir Philip’s bust appeared in a holographic projection: ”...We are approaching the Valley Corridor; we can reach the Soniel area as soon as tomorrow...”

”Excellent,” Gawain nodded with satisfaction, his tone carrying unmistakable approval—the original rendezvous time was actually three days away, yet the ground forces led by Sir Philip had pushed forward by two days, further ensuring the balance of the battle tilting in their favor, ”How were you this quick?”

”The enemy’s counterattack was weaker than expected, and it seemed that many of the monsters originally wandering in the centre of the mainland have been drawn to the Soniel area,” Sir Philip explained, ”Nonetheless, we have laid sufficient firepower lock points along the way, you can rest assured of that.”

Gawain nodded slightly, then exchanged a few pieces of information about the battle with Sir Philip, before concluding the communication.

Finally, the north-south blockade line was about to close.

He exhaled slightly, feeling a bit relaxed, then turned, intending to discuss the arrangements for entering the capital with Victoria by his side. But before he could speak, he heard Amber’s voice from not far away:

”You say you’re a messenger, so you’re a messenger—how could you be invisible delivering a message with your limited skills?!”

Curious, Gawain looked up and saw Amber dragging a person towards them, and the man being dragged, looking quite embarrassed, was a young man in black Light Leather Armor with a somewhat familiar face.

Victoria, standing nearby, instantly recognized the man’s identity: ”Dark Raven?”

Gawain suddenly recalled the other person’s identity—an old friend indeed.

A royal shadow guard who couldn’t perform a Whirlwind Slash with a two-handed greatsword.

”I caught him sneaking around outside the camp. He was skulking, so I kicked him out of the shadow realm,” Amber said, pushing the Dark Raven towards Gawain with her hands on her hips and head held high. ”He said he came to deliver a message.”

”Dark Raven, what message have you come to deliver?” Victoria immediately frowned, questioning the royal shadow guard in front of her.

Dark Raven first glanced at Victoria, then helplessly at Amber, and finally lowered his head respectfully before Gawain, saying, ”I have a handwritten letter from the King for Duke Gawain Cecil.”

As he spoke, the royal shadow guard retrieved a letter from his person and handed it to Gawain.

Gawain accepted the letter, sealed with the royal wax seal of Anzu, curious about its contents—although the southern battlefield of St. Soniel had mostly been cleared, a lone royal shadow guard crossing the war zone to reach the Cecil Clan’s camp was not a simple task. What kind of urgent situation required the new King of Anzu to contact him in such a manner?

He opened the letter and saw it contained only a simple sentence:

”Raven Plateau has been corrupted and polluted. Please assist in its eradication—Wales Moen.”

Gawain’s gaze froze, and after several seconds of silence, he slowly put the letter down and looked at the royal shadow guard in front of him: ”Aside from this, did your King say anything else to you?”

”He asked me to relay a message to you,” Dark Raven repeated Wales Moen’s words. ”He said he left a ball of yarn there.”

”...”

Victoria saw the contents of the letter and heard Dark Raven’s words. Although she did not know what the so-called ”ball of yarn” meant, merely through conjecture and intuition, she already vaguely sensed what Wales was intending.

She suddenly looked at Gawain: ”Duke Cecil...”

”Your King has given me a difficult problem,” Gawain sighed softly, glancing at the letter again.

This letter lacked any ”burn after reading” seal and still lay intact in Gawain’s hand, each word on it sharp and clear.

It was a riddle, perhaps an observation at the same time. Behind this thin letter, Gawain seemed to see Wales Moen’s eyes.

Those eyes were full of scrutiny.

Amber also saw the contents of the letter and, after a moment of reaction, exclaimed, ”...My goodness.”

She then said, ”Be careful. This might be a conspiracy. He’s tricking you. What’s it called...’borrowing a knife’ something...”

”Actually, I don’t mind whether this is a conspiracy or not,” Gawain looked at Amber, ”but I do need to ascertain the situation on Raven Plateau—go inform Jinna and have her take a flight.”

He then looked at the complex-faced Victoria: ”Let’s wait here for a moment.”

They didn’t have to wait long. The aerial reconnaissance images from the Gryphon Knight were soon transmitted to the command center.

An Armored Griffon swept over Raven Plateau, where vivid flags and insignias fluttered in the wind on the images.

Gawain and Victoria stood before the Magic Web Terminal, watching the holographic image it projected. Gawain softly asked, ”Do you recognize them?”

Momentarily lost in thought, Victoria seemed to return to her girlhood, feeling the nervousness and awe only present when standing by her father’s side. A brief question from Gawain imparted immense pressure, and she involuntarily took a gentle breath before replying, ”I recognize them.”

”What is your evaluation?”

”...Duke Cecil, you are making a terrifying decision. It will...”

Gawain simply and calmly repeated his question: ”What is your evaluation?”

Victoria’s mind replayed the same scene she recalled not long ago, remembering the question her father had once asked her:

”...If pruning, fertilizing, watering, and treating don’t work, what should you do?”

She closed her eyes slightly, and when she reopened them, the icy Grand Duke of Ice and Snow seemed to return.

”It should all be uprooted.”

”Very well.”

Gawain nodded and turned to a nearby commanding officer.

”Raven Plateau has been polluted. Purify it.”