St. Soniel, the Anzu Capital, Silver Castle.
In the military hall, a number of capital aristocrats and knight lords sat around a broad table made of heavy oak with golden edges. The current two regent dukes of Anzu and the nominal heir, Prince Wales, sat at the head of the table—an advanced military eting was underway.
The glow of the magic crystal lamps illuminated the slightly oppressive atmosphere of the hall, and the tal shields hanging on the north wall reflected the light from the magic crystal lamps, vaguely mirroring the silhouettes of the two regent dukes and the heir. In that blurred reflection, Prince Wales’ scarlet coat stood out like a streak of blood.
This man, who had only returned to the position of the crown prince in middle age, quietly watched as the nobles spoke, discussed, and debated around the table. There was occasional fluctuation in his gaze, but he rarely uttered a word, sitting there as though he were an unrelated onlooker, listening to affairs that theoretically should be entirely his responsibility to decide.
An elderly knight with white hair braced his hands on the table. Though short in stature, he was extraordinarily strong, and despite his age, his eyes still burned with a fierce light reminiscent of a young man. He glanced at the other knight lords and capital nobles around him, speaking in a deep, powerful voice: "The battle to reclaim Sorinburg has failed, gentlen, we must face this fact—the Eastern rebels are few in number, but it is we who are at a strategic disadvantage."
"The good news is we’ve pinned the rebels in the hills surrounding Sorinburg," a noble spoke, "We have our backs to the Plains of the Holy Spirits, with more land and more numbers, prolonged combat works in our favor."
The old knight couldn’t help but pound the table: "Don’t be too optimistic, Earl Balin, the premise of prolonged combat is that we can truly endure this situation— the Loland Clan has faced off against the Typhon Empire for years, their soldiers are more resilient, more able to withstand pressure, while the morale of our army is declining every day. If no victories are achieved soon, even if supplies and troops are sufficient, it will be us who first cannot endure..."
From the head of the table, Duchess Victoria suddenly interrupted the old knight: "Lord Cromwell, calm yourself."
Wales Moen turned his head slightly to glance at the regent duchess beside him, then resud his gaze on Cromwell Whiteshill opposite him—he knew this knight lord who appeared aged. The surna "Whiteshill" was not common in Anzu, but it was a typical dwarf surna. This was because Cromwell Whiteshill’s ancestor was indeed a dwarf: seven hundred years ago, in the great pioneering era, it was not only elves who fought alongside humans. So dwarves also beca builders of the human kingdoms during the great expansion, and a portion of them eventually chose to integrate into human society, even becoming mbers of the Anzu aristocracy. Cromwell Whiteshill’s family ca from this lineage.
Perhaps influenced by his ancestral bloodline, this knight lord’s temperant and character appeared overly straightforward among many nobles who valued elegant etiquette, but Wales Moen knew that Cromwell spoke the truth. However... since Duchess Victoria had already spoken, he needed not to voice his thoughts.
"Apologies, Duchess, but we must acknowledge the truth," Cromwell Whiteshill said with a full voice, even as he apologized, "The Eastern rebellion is not as easy to deal with as we imagined. We failed to expel them from the Plains of the Holy Spirits before the end of the Fire Moon; they have already taken root in Sorinburg. The Harvest Moon has arrived, and the rebels will use the grain we have cultivated for half a year to feed themselves. Duchess Wilder, Duke Franklin, and Your Highness the Prince, I am willing to lead the pioneering knights and help the Earl of Sorin recapture the fortress. We cannot let the rebels pass the Harvest Festival on the Plains of the Holy Spirits..."
"I never considered the Eastern rebels easy to deal with," Victoria Wilder said lightly, "but the capital’s pioneering knights cannot move, Earl Cromwell, our rear is not secure."
The old knight glared, and the knight lords and the militant noble faction exchanged looks and began to speak among themselves.
Duke Baldwin Franklin, sitting to the right of Wales Moen, stood up at this mont: "Let speak, this news has just reached St. Soniel—the rocky ridges Fortress has fallen."
The entire military hall fell silent instantly.
The words of the Duke of the West were clear and had no ambiguity in the short sentence. However, perhaps the amount of information in the sentence was too astonishing, or perhaps the news was far beyond everyone’s expectations, every noble who heard this sentence seed unable to comprehend. Finally, it was Earl Balin, sitting next to Cromwell, who first broke the silence: "Your Grace, you an the rocky ridges Fortress in the south of the Plains of the Holy Spirits?"
"Does Anzu have a second rocky ridges Fortress?" Baldwin Franklin glanced at the slightly plump Earl Balin and said.
A capital noble, in astonishnt, couldn’t help but mutter to himself: "It’s so far from the East, with the southern mountains of the Plains of the Holy Spirits in between, how could the rebels have..."
Perhaps the Eastern rebellion had occupied all of this noble’s thoughts, or perhaps the idea that "the many rural lords of the southern borders are not worth ntioning" lingered in his mind, this gentleman hadn’t considered that another slumbering giant beast lay in the vast, remote southern lands.
But others had already reacted, and after a brief mont of shock, Cromwell was the first to read a hint from the grim and serious expressions of the two regent dukes. He asked incredulously: "Is it... the Cecil Clan?"
"Correct, it’s not the Eastern rebels, it’s the Cecil Clan," Baldwin Franklin said calmly. "Founder Duke Gawain Cecil destroyed the defense of the rocky ridges Fortress fifteen days ago—on Fire Moon 58th, occupied the fortress, and detained all military personnel and civilians within the fortress."
Cromwell Whiteshill’s beard twitched. He seed to want to speak, but Duchess Victoria Wilder imdiately followed Duke Franklin, saying, "I know what you want to ask—but all intelligence has been cut off for now. The Cecil’s Army broke through the fortress in an extrely short ti, reportedly taking just a few days, and then they sealed off the entire stronghold, leaving the fortress garrison with no ti to send out any useful information.
"Only two gryphon ssengers, who risked their lives to break through, brought the news of the fortress’s fall to the royal capital. The only information we have now is that Duke Gawain Cecil used so unknown thod to create a large amount of Beyonder gears with astonishing power and established an exceptionally strong army in a short period...
"Knight Lord Maryland O’Neal’s current status is unknown. Before the fortress fell, Sir Maryland led the last knight order out of the city to fight, but the fortress’s barrier was soon destroyed by the Cecil Clan’s magic.
"Count Pompeii also sent a magic ssage, confirming the news of the fortress’s fall."
After Duchess Victoria finished sharing all the known information, Cromwell Whiteshill finally found the opportunity to speak. The knight lord with a part dwarf heritage frowned deeply, "The Cecil Clan... could they be like the Eastern Territories..."
"Currently, the Cecil’s Army has not continued moving north. After occupying the rocky ridges Fortress, they closed the fortress’s north gate and seem to intend to hold their ground," said Duke Baldwin Franklin, "According to information from Count Pompeii, they didn’t even bother with the grain stores and manors beyond the northern walls of the fortress, nor did they raid any unfortified border villages."
Occupying the fortress yet not plundering the surrounding villages and manors was clearly unusual, and the nobles present couldn’t help but murmur among themselves again. Cromwell Whiteshill coughed lightly, "Cough, cough, just because they aren’t heading north now doesn’t an they never will."
"That’s exactly what we are worried about," Baldwin Franklin said, "The Cecil Clan... their current head is Gawain Cecil."
The nobles fell silent once more, exchanging glances as they finally recalled the repeated urgent letters Sir Maryland sent before the fall of the rocky ridges Fortress—
More than forty families in the southern borders united to campaign against the Cecil and were swiftly defeated...
This shocking news had already stirred waves among them, triggering another military eting, but at that ti, no one expected the Cecil Clan’s actions to be so swift, nor that the rocky ridges Fortress would fall so easily.
They thought it would take over a year for the situation in the south to develop to a point that required serious attention.
Wales Moen, who hadn’t spoken all along, sighed softly.
He recalled the warning Veronica had given him not long ago. He rembered Veronica cautioning that Gawain Cecil was unleashing a beast, but now it seed... the aristocrats of the royal capital might have already lost their last chance to cage this beast.
"We once thought the events in the southern borders were just a lord’s civil war, and that those who initiated the conflict were the leaders other than the Cecil Clan. But now it seems everything that happened in the southern borders was under the control of our founding hero—he had planned it for a long ti," Duke Baldwin Franklin said, "Now the fall of the rocky ridges Fortress is already a fact. Regardless of how the Cecil’s Army managed to capture a fortress in such a short ti, they’ve occupied it and prepared their defenses. Earl Cromwell, do you think we have the ability to take back the fortress?"
Cromwell Whiteshill shook his head without much thought, "Impossible—unless we withdraw at least half of the troops from the east of the Plains of the Holy Spirits, and even then, there’s no certainty we can retake the rocky ridges Fortress. I know Sir Maryland O’Neal; he is a very capable knight lord, and his army is no less capable than the pioneering knights of the royal capital. Yet even he wasn’t a match for Duke Gawain Cecil, so you can imagine the strength of the Cecil Clan."
With that, the old knight lord shook his head, "What I’m most curious about now is how that founding hero managed to build such an army... in less than two years, not even two years! He managed to capture the rocky ridges Fortress?"
"Every ancient family hides secrets, and what’s more, this ancient family even has a resurrected ancestor," Baldwin Franklin joked, " Perhaps, seven hundred years ago, Duke Gawain Cecil buried a Gondor-era immortal legion in the southern borders’ mountains?"
Cromwell Whiteshill shook his head, gruffly, "That’s not funny at all..."
"Ladies and gentlen, let’s think of a counterasure now," Baldwin Franklin reduced his humor, tapping the table lightly with his finger, "This could be a situation as dangerous as the Eastern Territory uprising—by the ancestors, this ti the ancestor has truly arrived."
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