Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 350 - 349: The Exiled Heterodoxies

Cecil Territory, inside the leader’s study.

The recent population influx report was delivered to Gawain’s desk. He read every number on it carefully, his expression particularly focused.

The situation was not much different from what he expected—after the arrival of the Revival Month, a new wave of immigration began, and this time, the number of refugees moving into Cecil Territory far exceeded those purchasing serfs and slaves.

The news of Cecil Territory accepting refugees had spread throughout the entire autumn and winter, now reaching every corner of the southern borders. Even the most uninformed common folk knew that the land next to the Dark Mountain Range was accepting outsiders almost unconditionally, offering them the opportunity to obtain land, houses, and free citizen status. Last year, during the entire Frost Month phase, Gawain made great efforts to advance this cause, and now, he finally saw the results.

Sir Byron, utilizing his mercenary connections from years past, released numerous recruitment announcements across the southern borders, carrying out every transaction positively. Consequently, merchants managing ships and convoys enjoyed great benefits and placed their trust in Cecil Territory, leading to a positive cycle in handling refugees.

Now, there was no need for Sir Byron to actively send people out; instead, stable ”immigrant caravans” traveled between various territories, engaged in this ”new business.” The shrewd and courageous caravan leaders with good mercenary relations could find displaced people or those wishing to go to Cecil Territory for various reasons. These merchants, holding permits signed by Duke Cecil, transported people to Cecil Territory for free, receiving rewards from the Administrative Office based on the number transported. Even some mercenaries laid down their swords, bought some large wagons, and started doing similar business—gathering refugees and immigrants, and sending them to Cecil Territory. This had evidently become an industry...

Throughout this process, Gawain intervened several times to curb lawless and audacious actions. He executed a batch of those who attempted human trafficking or abused immigrants, thereby setting the rules for this ”industry” and instilling the strict enforcement of Cecil’s laws in the minds of the merchants and mercenaries.

What pleased Gawain more than the increase in immigrant numbers was the optimization of the new immigrants’ professional structure—last year, those moving into Cecil Territory were mostly unskilled slaves and wanderers. People like craftsmen and scholars would not typically end up homeless or selling themselves into slavery, so this type of skilled talent was procured at a high cost. However, the recent batches of immigrants included skilled craftsmen willingly moving to the territory, indicating one thing: the attractiveness of Cecil Territory was increasing.

People had persistent doubts and prejudices about this land situated at the foot of the Dark Mountain Range, challenging to change in a short time. Nevertheless, Cecil Territory had indeed established a foothold here, offering exceptionally favorable treatment to technical talents. In the face of sufficient benefits, people’s doubts and prejudices would recede.

At the end of winter, the population of the main city in Cecil Territory was over fourteen thousand, a number enough to be considered a ”medium-sized city” for this era. However, for Cecil Territory, rapidly constructing a magical industry, the population still left significant gaps in establishing an industrial system. Now, as the population continued to increase and the immigration structure continued to optimize, the population issue that had long troubled Gawain began to gradually alleviate.

Placing the report aside, Gawain sighed in relief, then stood up to move around. Just as he intended to stand, the study window suddenly opened by itself, and a gust of cold wind blew into the room.

Gawain raised his hand and tapped the air: ”Can’t you come through the door once in a while?”

Amber’s figure appeared with a flick of her head, the half-elf lady clutching her head, looking resentfully at Gawain: ”Why do all you Cecil people love knocking heads? A few days ago, I was joking with Rebecca, and she wanted to hit me with a stick too—can’t you leave some good family traditions for your descendants?”

”Knocking heads isn’t one of my family traditions; knights being better than mages is,” Gawain glanced at her, ”So, what’s up with you—at this hour, you should be wandering aimlessly around the city.”

”I’m patrolling the territory for you!” Amber retorted, glaring, then pointed toward the dock area, ”A new ship arrived at the dock, carrying people who want to settle here... but things are a bit complicated, the people at the registration office can’t decide, so I came to find you.”

”An immigration ship?” Gawain frowned, wondering what was so important to report, ”As long as they’re not carrying malicious diseases, prohibited criminals, or trafficked individuals, just register them and send them to the buffer camp, right? Even in the three cases I mentioned, there should be corresponding handling protocols, right?”

”New situation,” Amber shrugged, ”they’re heterodoxies persecuted by religion...”

Gawain: ”...Ha?”

Soon after, he and Amber arrived at the northern dock area. On the newly cement-paved dock grounds, he saw soldiers maintaining order, the ship owner explaining the situation to the soldiers, and the worried, haggard-looking new immigrants.

”The leader is here! The leader is here!”

Soon, someone noticed Gawain’s presence (his two-meter frame was indeed conspicuous anywhere), and the gathered crowd immediately saluted and stepped aside as Gawain approached the center of the event. He quickly assessed the visibly uneasy ”heterodox immigrants” at a glance.

There were more than twenty of them, both men and women, as well as several children. Their attire varied, with some wearing simple burlap clothes and others dressed in relatively upscale wool coats. Overall, these people’s clothing suggested they belonged to the middle or upper-middle class among commoners.

However, these people, who should have been living comfortably, had clearly endured a long and uncomfortable journey. Their faces were pale and haggard, hair messy and greasy, cheeks sunken, shivering in the cold wind. Their eyes revealed fear and anxiety as they looked around, even more so when they saw Gawain, a sign of long-term mental stress and constant worry about their lives.

Seeing their condition and recalling what Amber had told him on the road, Gawain began to speculate about their experiences. At the same time, these ”refugees,” upon confirming the noble’s identity in front of them, all knelt to pay their respects. The bearded captain in a brown coat also knelt down, mumbling, ”Lord, I am merely responsible for bringing these people over—”

Gawain raised his hand, halting the captain’s impending defense and persuasion: ”First, stand up. Where did these people come from?”

The refugees stood up, and the captain also stood up nervously, constantly bowing in front of Gawain: ”Back to you, my lord, they’re from the Plains of the Holy Spirits.”

”That’s quite a distance...” Gawain frowned, ”What’s this about so-called ’exiled heretics’?”

”That sounds too severe, my lord,” the captain hastily replied, ”these people fled because someone in their local church was practicing sorcery, and they were afraid of being implicated and didn’t dare stay in their hometown...”

Gawain nodded, looking at the shivering people, pointing to one person: ”You tell me, what exactly happened.”

”We... we did nothing, yet the priests claimed we were the minions of... of evil cultists, seized our homes and drove us out...” The person Gawain pointed to was a sturdy man who looked simple and honest. He stammered, possibly from nervousness facing a grand noble or perhaps naturally, ”People over there are being captured everywhere, burned... burned, it’s too... too...”

”Hey, stop talking, your stammering dishonors the lord’s ears!” A woman next to the man interrupted, her face tense as she repeatedly bowed to Gawain, ”My lord, we are all honest civilians, either farming or doing small businesses...”

”Who decided you were the minions of evil cultists?” Gawain directly interrupted those unable to clearly describe their situation, asking straightforwardly, ”Which church’s priest? On what basis did they make this judgment?”

”It was... the priests of the Church of the Holy Light,” a man in a wool coat spoke up, ”Last winter, some families in the city were kidnapped by evil cultists, and their bodies were found days later. After the priests and knights of the Church of the Holy Light found the cultists hiding in the city and burned them, they began investigating the entire city... They claimed only the Holy Light could identify the cultists hiding among ordinary people, so everyone believed them.”

Gawain listened, his eyebrows slowly furrowing.

Amber leaned beside him, standing on tiptoes and whispering, ”Hey, hey, let me tell you, taking these people in might cause trouble...”

Gawain’s face was expressionless: ”Trouble?”

”The priests of the Church of the Holy Light are incredibly difficult to deal with,” Amber muttered, ”and they have noses more sensitive than dogs, prone to linking everything to ’evil’ and ’heresy’. If you take in these people expelled by the Church of the Holy Light, they might exploit the situation.”

”Trouble like this doesn’t matter,” Gawain replied casually, ”The Church of the Holy Light has its investigations, and I have mine. In Cecil, things should be handled according to Cecil’s rules. We’ll follow the standard procedure to examine these people, summon Pittman, and see if there’s any sorcery on them. If there’s nothing wrong, they’ll be sent to the buffer camp.”

Gawain did not trust the Church of the Holy Light’s judgment of ”heresy,” especially after hearing the refugees’ stories. But he also would not blindly believe the refugees just because he doubted the church. Therefore, he would confirm their identities before allowing them into the city. Pittman could detect the aura of fallen Druids’ theurgy, and so far, the old man’s judgments had been accurate. He could determine if these people were followers of the Oblivion Association, and if they were Eternal Sleepers...

That would be even simpler; Gawain would check if there were any unfamiliar IPs around when he got online.

As for the Sons of the Storm... Gawain believed there was no need to worry; those guys had fully retreated from the land and were now fiercely battling the deep-sea creatures.

And if they were not members of the Three Great Dark Sects, any remaining minor cultist elements would not be able to evade the buffer camp’s cross-examination and observation procedures.