The ruler of the Anzu Kingdom, the longest-reigning king since the establishnt of the Second Dynasty, Francis II stood on the tall terrace of the Silver Castle, overlooking the ancient city that has been ruled by the Moen Royal Family for seven hundred years. The magical radiance of the giant sun shone on the old king, casting a haze-like glow over his luxurious gold-red coat. This glow rged with the faint glimr on the surface of the entire Silver Castle, making the wise and patient old king seem as if he was fused with the entire castle, the entire city, and even the entire kingdom.
After standing and gazing for a long ti, a gentle sound of footsteps approached from behind. The old king’s hearing was still keen, and he turned around to look at the person already standing behind him.
The man was clad in a black long coat with gold trim, possessing short wavy hair of pale gold. He was an ordinary-looking, unremarkable middle-aged man, standing before Francis II with eyes that were both deferential and gentle, carrying a hint of awe.
"Wales, have you seen Eden?" Francis II looked calmly at the middle-aged man before him; despite being his eldest son, his tone was as detached and serene as if speaking to the most ordinary of his followers.
Wales Moen, that was the na of the middle-aged man, the first son of Francis II. Before Prince Edmund appeared, he was once the sole legitimate heir to the kingdom. However, on the upper echelon stage of Anzu, this forr heir’s presence was even less active than Veronica Moen, who had long entered the church and left the rule of Anzu. This prince, of diocre talent and timid disposition, had been hidden from everyone’s view, much like a shadow of the Moen Royal Family.
And the "Eden" ntioned by Francis II was the King’s Pri Minister, Eden Alfred.
"Yes, Father," the now middle-aged Prince Wales bowed his head slightly, speaking in a calm tone, "The Pri Minister briefed on the matters to pay attention to while living in Silver Castle."
"Good," Francis II said lightly, "After Edmund and I leave, Silver Castle will still require a descendant of the Moen to oversee it; Veronica has already converted to the Lord of Holy Light, so this position can only be reserved for you. Do you understand?"
Wales was silent for a mont before whispering, "I understand."
"Do not worry, you only need to stay in Silver Castle, there is nothing required of you," Francis II looked at his son of diocre talent, shaking his head almost imperceptibly, "The Duke of the North and Duke of the West will handle everything."
Wales Moen bowed deeply: "...Yes."
The door connecting the terrace and the castle was pushed open, and Edmund Moen, having changed into light knight attire, stepped onto the terrace. This young heir to the kingdom approached Francis II and bowed slightly: "Father, everything is ready."
The old king gave Wales one last glance, then turned his head and walked towards the terrace door: "Let us set off."
Francis II and Edmund left the terrace, descended the steps, and crossed the long corridors inside the castle. As they passed through the front hall, two elegantly dressed individuals ca forward to et them.
One was the Duke of the West, Baldwin Franklin, wearing a deep blue ducal cloak, possessing an elegant deanor with a hint of scholarly air. The other was the Northern Duchess, Victoria Wilder, clad in a white gown and silver fox shoulder cape, with a cool and distant aura.
These two powerful nobles, nominally second only to the king in the kingdom, ca before Francis II, bowing slightly, with Baldwin Franklin first to speak: "Wishing you a smooth journey."
"I will strive for peace," Francis II said solemnly, then focused on the duchess who seed as cold and remote as ice and snow. He quietly looked at her for two seconds before speaking aningfully, "May Anzu be long tranquil."
Victoria Wilder slightly nodded: "Anzu will be long tranquil."
Afterward, they passed by each other.
As the royal carriage, adorned with the Moen royal emblem and escorted by nurous cavalry and combat Mages, departed the Silver Castle, Wales still stood on the terrace blown by the cold wind. He quietly lowered his head to watch the ornate carriage moving across the square before the castle, with a faint trace of loneliness on his face.
A strange chill blew from behind, causing the forr heir to tremble slightly. He then turned around, unsurprised to see Victoria Wilder, the duchess, standing before him.
It’s so cold, this woman as cold as the northern mountains. Wales inhaled the sudden chill in the air. His mind recalled the scene twenty years ago, when he was the kingdom’s sole heir and first saw Victoria Wilder as a young girl. He stood on this very high terrace, and Victoria, wearing a white princess dress, suddenly ran up and pointed at his nose, saying, "You’re a prince, right— I’m the future Duchess Wilder! I’ll be watching you!"
A snowflake ford of Magic settled on Wales Moen’s face, and the middle-aged prince was imdiately awakened. He nodded in greeting to the Northern Duchess before him, "Duchess Victoria, I must trouble you during this period."
Victoria nodded expressionlessly, "You need not worry about the kingdom’s affairs. Duke Baldwin and I will take care of everything for you. You just need to reside in Silver Castle in peace—rest assured, I’ll be watching you."
The last sentence suddenly overlapped with his mory, causing Wales Moen’s face to twitch slightly. Yet he still lowered his head as usual, replying in an unchanged tone, "Alright."
Victoria Wilder frowned slightly as she looked at the prince before her. Then, without saying anything, a sudden flurry of snow enveloped her figure, and accompanied by the swirling cold wind and snow, she disappeared from the castle terrace.
In the middle of this Revival Month, news traveled swiftly across Anzu, like a warm wind suddenly shifting direction in this season—or at least among the well-inford aristocrats with their own intelligence networks, this news spread as swiftly as the wind.
The King of Anzu, Francis II, and Prince Edmund led a delegation away from Silver Castle.
Of course, "spreading like the wind" is relative to the typical speed of news dissemination in this era. Without gryphon ssengers or Magic Communications, the speed at which remote areas received the news still depended on the ssengers’ travel speed. Currently, the Cecil territory clearly lacked the capability to establish an information line from the extre south region to St. Soniel with gryphon ssengers and a Magic Communication Tower—in between lay countless large and small southern territories owned by nobles, the rocky ridges Fortress, and the Holy Spirits Plains with their entrenched aristocratic powers. The high cost was one issue, but the complex power dynamics were even more headache-inducing—so by the ti Gawain received this news, ten days had already passed.
This was still the result of the Cecil rchant nodes and the Intelligence Agency’s dispatched officers hurrying along, and he received the intelligence faster than most southern nobility—even faster than Viscount Andrew in Tanzan Town.
Upon receiving the intelligence, he imdiately summoned Aunt Heidi, responsible for internal affairs; Amber, responsible for intelligence; and Byron, Sir Philip, and Soldrin, responsible for military matters, bringing them all to the main hall of the feudal lord’s mansion.
"The royal delegation set off by carriage. To synchronize with Typhon, they won’t move too quickly. By now they should have just left the Holy Spirits Plains and haven’t entered Duke of the East," Gawain said, waving the encrypted letter in his hand—delivered by an Intelligence Agency officer stationed in the Holy Spirits Plains and sent via rchant routes, eventually handed to him by Amber, "If everything goes smoothly, the formal contacts and negotiations will begin at the end of Revival Month or the beginning of Fire Moon. According to intelligence, Anzu and Typhon jointly built a ’Winterhold Castle’ on the border for this negotiation."
Byron glanced at the intelligence in Gawain’s hand, unexpectedly muttering, "Our intelligence line has already reached St. Soniel?"
"It wasn’t last year, but this spring our alchemy rchants entered the Holy Spirits Plains—thanks to Mr. Patrick’s efforts and Lady Ropenny Gran’s assistance," Gawain nodded. He continued, "Accompanying Francis II is Edmund Moen, while Wales Moen remains in Silver Castle as the overseer."
"The king’s eldest son?" Aunt Heidi was imdiately stunned, feeling a bit puzzled. "It’s said that he’s diocre and not adept at politics and has been far removed from kingdom affairs for many years, currently just a prince with little real power... Why would the king leave him in charge of the royal capital instead of Prince Edmund?"
"Francis II probably doesn’t trust letting his overly talented heir out of his sight—especially while he’s away from the royal capital," Gawain said with a smiling shake of his head, "I’ve t Prince Edmund Moen; he’s an insightful but also overly perceptive young man. As for Wales, who remains in Silver Castle... whether he can manage the country well doesn’t matter, because the Duke of the North, Victoria Wilder, and the Duke of the West, Baldwin Franklin, have already arrived at Silver Castle in advance. There’s also Eden, the King’s Chief Minister, as the pillar of support for the royal family, so Silver Castle remains stable."
"...Wales truly is a pitiable prince," Soldrin shrugged. The High-Ranked Ranger, who had witnessed Anzu’s seven hundred years of history, seed not particularly interested in the current "illegitimate branch royal family" and held little respect, "He’s just a symbol in the castle."
"To Francis II, it doesn’t matter. The entire Second Dynasty was established with the Northern Duke’s support. Whether the Wilder Clan is in Silver Castle or not, the Moen surna is just symbolic—in this context, a more controllable Wales saves him a lot of trouble," Gawain said indifferently, "This has little to do with us."
Amber was curious, "Then why did you gather us here?"
Gawain ignored the half-elf lady beside him and looked towards Byron, "How is the spring expansion and new weapon outfitting progress of the Combat Corps?"
The question, once posed, left everyone present in a daze.
They sensed a hint of unsettling information from Gawain’s tone.
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