Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 673 - 672: Two Empires

The carriage wheels rolled over the smooth central avenue of the city, causing a slight sway that made one feel drowsy. Daniel sat on the soft cushion at the rear of the carriage, relying on his personal pillow and cushion, with his eyes slightly closed, as if already asleep.

Yet his mind was in its most alert state. Through the signals produced by the artificial nerve cords and the special array of magic symbols engraved at the bottom of the carriage, this Eternal Sleepers Priest’s thoughts roamed out of his body, currently wandering within the perfect world shaped by the mind network.

Dream City, golden broad pathways, bustling with people.

Beautiful unnamed trees were lined along the roadsides, their softly glowing leaves falling in the most pleasing speed and trajectory in the wind. A refreshing breeze blew between the orderly palace pavilions, flags and decorative curtains swaying in the wind between buildings.

Daniel, transformed into a cultured middle-aged mage, walked casually across the broad pathway, arriving at a node plaza.

Several groups of congregants moved about in the plaza, their whispered conversations drifting to Daniel’s ears:

”It seems the Oblivion Association’s plan has completely failed...”

”Barbaric and unsightly, the monsters they created gave a bad impression right from the start.”

”But it’s even unimaginable, they failed so quickly... Is the Cecil Clan really that difficult to deal with?”

”After all, there are Wanderers from Outer Realm over there.”

”How long has it been since there was news from the Sons of the Storm? Ever since the positions of the stars were corrected last time, their communication with the land has lessened.”

”Who knows what those brainless individuals are up to...”

Daniel listened to those middle-level congregants’ discussions with a spectator’s mindset, feeling no ripples in his heart.

To some extent, the Eternal Sleepers congregants, possessing the mind network, are more informed than any King or Emperor, but specifically regarding the Cecil Clan, their intelligence is considerably delayed. Especially after the Cecil Clan established those Magic Detection Devices and implemented strict Transcendent management across their territory, many Eternal Sleepers had to distance themselves from that region. Information about the Cecil Clan could only be synthesized and judged from rumors in other regions; much of what they discussed today was already old news from many days ago.

Compared to them, Daniel held the real-time intelligence.

End of monarchy, rise of the Empire, Mage army sweeping across the plains, steel fortresses racing on rails, the Artificial God swallowed and destroyed by the deep-sea Allied forces...

What an exhilarating war this was, but regrettably, being in Typhon, he didn’t have the chance to witness it all firsthand, only able to watch some of the records through the ”Origin Space.”

Footsteps approached from nearby, an Eternal Sleeper clad in a white coat with a dignified and spirited demeanor coming to Daniel’s side, interrupting the latter’s thoughts.

”Thank you for your warning last time, Your Excellency Bishop,” the Eternal Sleeper bowed his head, speaking respectfully and appropriately, ”Duke Sevin has provided us with critical assistance.”

Daniel glanced slightly sideways at this Eternal Sleeper, using the special authority of the security department head, he could see through the true self hidden beneath that dignified face.

A pale-skinned, thin-framed middle-aged man, with dark brown eyes and relatively flat features.

Daniel nodded slightly to this Eternal Sleeper: ”Great nobles usually have a long-term vision, which makes them prefer investing in multiple faces to maintain balance. If the benefits are promising, Duke Sevin is sure to leave a stake for himself in the southern plantations, especially since this stake could simultaneously bring him allies on the railway—after all, the Emperor has already ordered to prohibit nobles above Marquis from interfering with the railway, and the great nobles will certainly look for a suitable proxy to spend money on their behalf.”

”In any case, your tip helped me seize an opportunity—though regrettably, I cannot express my gratitude to you in the real world.”

”Everything is for our true cause, ’Viscount Wigel,’” Daniel said softly, while using a voice only the two could hear to hint at the other’s real-world identity, reminding him to distinguish between his real identity and the role he plays in the evil-cult, ”While accumulating wealth, don’t forget why we are accumulating that wealth.”

Viscount Wigel immediately bowed his head: ”Your reminder is well received, Your Excellency Bishop, everything is for our true cause.”

The Eternal Sleepers is a vast evil-cult, just like every other dark sect, it also aims to develop its members across virtually all social strata to meet the many operational needs.

Among its middle and lower ranks, there are many transformed aristocrats, merchants, and Otherworldly God priests, and although these people cannot access the evil-cult’s core secrets, they are indispensable to its operations. Some can provide financial support, some intelligence, and some help the evil-cult expand further, absorbing members.

Lesser southern aristocrats like Viscount Wigel are essential aids for the evil-cult’s development within Typhon borders, and with Daniel’s status as Bishop, it’s easy to secretly control such ”pieces” without attracting any attention.

”I need to remind you of something,” seeing the lower priest in front of him bowing his head, Daniel deliberated on his tone and spoke in a naturally casual manner, ”Don’t underestimate the northern aristocracy’s sharp intuition—you have closely contacted Duke Sevin several times, someone is bound to guess what you are doing.”

Viscount Wigel widened his eyes: ”Are you saying... the northern aristocracy might also interfere with the railway?”

”That’s hard to say, but you better remind the southern aristocrats,” Daniel said expressionlessly, ”I assume you wouldn’t want to suffer another loss, right?”

He has many things to do in Typhon, but he cannot handle each task personally.

At least, he cannot handle them in the open.

Viscount Wigel, a lower-tier Eternal Sleeper priest and the man who takes orders from Daniel, eagerly nodded his head, soon receiving the Bishop’s orders, his figure gradually fading from the node plaza.

Daniel watched as the other returned to the real world and turned toward the nearest Node Crystal.

Some things he handles himself; some are managed by his apprentices and influenced aristocrats; some are handled by ”Bishop Daniel” as an Eternal Sleeper, and some are executed by the congregants under Bishop Daniel.

No one will notice any connection behind these matters spanning Typhon Empire north and south, affecting a range from civilians to merchants to aristocrats, because there are countless unrelated threads, countless people who do not know each other or ever thought they would have a link which simultaneously engage in these activities.

The public Daniel will merely be a talented Grandmaster and an archMage loyal to the Empire. Even a deeper investigation would reveal only some private friendships with a few aristocrats in the imperial capital—and given that these nobles were the earliest investors after Daniel’s return, such private friendships are beyond suspicion.

The Node Crystal floated above the elegant golden base, emitting a dreamy glow. Daniel gently pressed his hand onto the crystal, and as the familiar mental waves passed, the scenery around him shifted from a vast plaza to a magnificent palace.

This Central Temple is accessible only to bishop-level priests. The people gathered here are the true backbone of the Eternal Sleepers Order.

Silhouettes appeared out of thin air, bishops donned in robes of white, black, or pale gold, emerged in the corridors and proceeded toward the core council meeting room. Daniel joined the bishops, walking in the same direction.

The civil war in Anzu has ended, and one of the Three Great Dark Sects is now concluded. A large and ancient kingdom is reshuffling, bringing new power structures, new challenges, and opportunities. As a member of the dark sects, the Eternal Sleepers will not sit idly by—especially now, given that the new Anzu monarch is that terrifying ”Wanderer from Outer Realm.” The upper echelons of the Order need to thoroughly discuss the direction of future developments.

Entering the round council hall, Daniel found his spot. He sat down beside the table, casually engaging in quiet conversations with familiar bishops until a glow appeared at the oval table’s far end. A gentle-featured, tranquil woman materialized in the light, capturing everyone’s attention.

The bishops bowed and greeted, ”Good day, Lady Selena Gerfen.”

”Good day, fellow comrades,” Selena Gerfen scanned the surroundings and nodded slightly, her voice soft as she said, ”Let’s start the meeting...”

...

Standing in the highest room of the Obsidian Palace and overlooking the imperial capital during the rising mist is a unique experience.

The ”Fog Month” is generally perceived as the time when Aldernon gets foggy, but in reality, it merely marks the period when the city’s fog is most intense and prolonged—outside of the Fog Month, the mist arrives unannounced during any seasonal transition, regardless of the month.

When such days arrive, the entire city appears to float in a dreamlike mist. The actual shapes of the varied buildings are obscured in the fog, becoming ambiguous and illusory. Only towers and city battlements poke their heads out from the mist, basking in the brilliant sunlight, gilded with golden light, much like islands appearing out of the ocean—the sunlight shines evenly across the world, but only those on the sea surface can enjoy this honor.

Ferdinand Wendell and Rosetta Augustus stood together by the window, gazing over the prosperous and affluent imperial capital, the Obsidian Palace towers and spires gleaming as the sunlight gradually intensified through the mist.

Among the tens of thousands of rooftops in this city, only these high towers can be seen from the Obsidian Palace when the fog descends.

”Your Majesty, Andresha has sent word, Longwind Fortress is increasing its forces, but it’s still unclear which unit is taking over the defense,”

”Gawain Cecil is a cautious man and has never let down his guard against Typhon,” Rosetta slightly nodded, ”He will be prepared against our attack at the earliest, which is entirely expected.”

”The Empire’s main troops are ready, Your Majesty,” Ferdinand bowed his head, ”The First and Second Mage Corps and the Winterwolf Knights have assembled at the border, awaiting your orders.”

”There was a time when I almost believed you’d become an anti-war advocate, Lord Ferdinand,” Rosetta turned his head, a faint, elusive smile on his face, ”The pro-war aristocrats felt you were being inconsistent.”

Ferdinand maintained a serious expression, ”I have never sided with any faction, Your Majesty. I stand for the Empire’s interests—when losses exceed gains, I’m against war; when the Empire stands to profit and the cost is acceptable, I naturally support it. But the changes in Anzu now make it difficult to grasp how much strength it really possesses... This must be faced cautiously.”

”We will be cautious, but until then, Andresha needs to be prepared,” Rosetta retracted his gaze from the window and looked at Duke Ferdinand beside him, ”It’s up to her to determine whether the troops entering Longwind Fortress are a crack unit or the old and crippled remnants post-civil war.”

Duke Ferdinand wore a solemn expression, ”She will not disappoint you, Your Majesty.”

...

Northern Continent, St. Soniel City.

The ancient streets were scrubbed clean, and fluttering flags and banners adorned the roadsides. Majestic knights and soldiers patrolled the streets surrounding the castle area. A solemn and dignified atmosphere with a faint hint of celebration permeated through the city—even the oblivious could sense a significant event was about to transpire in this ancient city—

The emperor’s coronation day draws near.

A cargo ship, heavily guarded by warships, entered the southern port of St. Soniel in the early hours of yesterday. The military pre-cleared the area and blocked the road from the port to the castle area. According to distant onlookers, a large transport vehicle delivered some goods to the castle, covered in thick tarps, sparking speculation among the citizens.

In Silver Castle, Gawain sat behind his desk, spreading out a pile of manuscripts, writing fervently.

Amber, standing nearby, glanced at Gawain, who was immersed in writing, ”You’ve been writing this whenever you have time these days... What exactly are you writing?”

Gawain didn’t look up, ”You can have a look, I don’t mind.”

”I’d rather not, I’ve fallen for it more than once, and just in case, with a glance, you’ll give me a heap of new work...”

Gawain smiled but said nothing else, turning a page to write new words.

Yet Amber couldn’t stand the quiet, speaking up after holding back for a few seconds: ”Hey, you know, you’re about to be crowned soon, and you’re writing things down as if drafting a will before something big happens...”

Gawain’s pen finally paused slightly. He looked up at Amber, then gestured with the pen towards the nearby wall, ”Do you think that wall’s even?”

With a swift motion, Amber vanished into thin air, leaving behind an exclamation, ”I’m going out on patrol!!”

Gawain chuckled at Amber’s disappearing spot, then lowered his head, looking at the almost completed manuscript. A few seconds later, he gently rubbed the Mithril ring on his finger.

The ring emitted a faint warmth, and Melita Ponia’s voice came from it, ”Mithril Vault at your service—would you like some business consultation?”

”Yes, I’d like to store some items.”