After leaving Viscount Andrew's castle, Gawain and his group temporarily camped on the outskirts of Tanzan Town, awaiting further instructions. The opulence and prosperity within the castle stood in stark contrast to the poverty beyond its walls, stirring complex emotions in Gawain. He pondered deeply on how to tackle the challenges ahead.
Rebecca noticed Gawain's contemplation and approached quietly. "Ancestor," she asked softly, "what's on your mind?"
Gawain snapped out of his thoughts, shaking his head slightly. "Just reflecting. This land could be prosperous, yet the gap between the rich and the poor is immense. Those at the bottom live in poverty, while the castle is filled with luxury and indulgence. This imbalance will lead to trouble sooner or later."
Herti nodded in agreement. "Indeed, such injustice is disheartening, but in this world, most nobles believe it to be their 'divine right.' Only a few actually care about the struggles of the common people."
"As a lord, responsibility cannot be shirked," Gawain replied, his gaze steady. "The Cecil family is not just another noble house; we have a duty to protect the people. Though Viscount Andrew has provided aid, this kind of charity is not a sustainable solution."
Just then, Sir Roger arrived with a few knights. He saluted Gawain and handed over a document, saying, "This is from Viscount Andrew. He requests your signature on this document."
Gawain took the document and read it over. It detailed the costs incurred by Viscount Andrew for housing Cecil's refugees, providing food and medical supplies, and deploying soldiers for protection. It even included accommodation fees for Rebecca and her group within the viscount's domain—a staggering amount.
Rebecca frowned as she read the document. "These expenses seem exaggerated… We only stayed a few days, and he's charging such a high fee?"
Herti spoke softly. "The viscount likely considers this a 'compensated favor.' After all, according to our kingdom's laws, aid between nobles must be repaid."
Gawain didn't respond immediately. He looked at the document, feeling a weight settle over him. He understood that Viscount Andrew's assistance was not driven by genuine goodwill but by self-interest. Even so, he couldn't ignore this debt, as it would further tarnish the Cecil family's reputation.
"We must find a way to repay this debt," Gawain said quietly. "Although it's a hefty sum, it's our family's duty."
Herti and Rebecca exchanged uneasy glances. The Cecil family was a shadow of its former glory, and they had almost nothing left. Repaying this enormous debt seemed nearly impossible.
Amber, who had been listening quietly, suddenly spoke up. "Perhaps we can find other ways to earn income, like exploring or taking on assignments? We do have some combat abilities. If we can find suitable tasks, we might earn enough to cover the debt."
Gawain smiled slightly, nodding at Amber. "That's a good idea. However, we'll need to find the right opportunities that don't compromise our family's honor and values."
As the group mulled over their options, a servant arrived with news of mysterious ruins discovered near Tanzan Town, rumored to contain treasure. Gawain's eyes lit up, seeing a glimmer of hope.
"This could be our chance to clear the debt," Gawain said. "We can explore these ruins and see if there's anything of value." He paused, his tone serious. "But we must proceed with caution and prioritize our safety."
With that, Gawain, Rebecca, Herti, and Amber set out with their team toward the rumored ruins. Unbeknownst to Gawain, Rebecca harbored a bold and cheeky idea, but he also knew that Viscount Andrew's aid to the Cecil refugees would not come without strings attached. The days when a lord would fiercely protect their people, with everyone standing united to rebuild civilization, were long gone. In the seven centuries since, the kingdom of Ansu had yet to reach the former glory of the Gondor Empire, but in the art of selfishness, nobles had become masters without guidance. There was no doubt that the moment the refugees from Cecil entered Tanzan Town, Rebecca had unwittingly inherited a colossal debt.
But it was better to shoulder this debt than to lose their people.
"The Cecil family will remember your assistance," Gawain finally broke the silence. "But for now, we have more pressing concerns than debt."
From the beginning, Viscount Andrew had taken note of the imposing man seated between Rebecca and Herti—a man clad in ancient noble attire, with a great sword by his side and a stern face. Andrew could not recall any noble resembling him, yet, judging by Herti and Rebecca's reverent demeanor, he was no ordinary figure.
So, when Gawain spoke up, Andrew seized the opportunity to inquire. "Forgive my curiosity, but may I ask… who might you be?"
"The ancestor of the Cecil family, the Pioneer of Pioneers, one of the Seven Founding Generals of Ansu, and Duke of the South, Gawain Cecil," Herti answered with solemnity, rising to her feet. "A name you must have heard from childhood—he is the Dawn's First Light."
With an air of quiet authority, Gawain nodded. But he couldn't resist a quick aside to Rebecca, "What's with that title?"
Rebecca whispered back, "A posthumous title given by the Founding King..."
Gawain was aghast. "Couldn't he have picked something a bit less… dramatic?"
Meanwhile, Viscount Andrew stood stunned, staring incredulously at Herti. Had the shock of recent events driven her mad?
As Gawain had expected, without firsthand evidence, no one could believe that the Cecil family's forefather had emerged from his grave. Even seasoned nobles and learned mages would dismiss this as sheer fantasy—perhaps only the uneducated and superstitious would entertain such a notion.
Viscount Andrew's restraint in not calling for attendants to escort Herti for treatment was, in itself, a testament to his manners.
"Madam, allow me to… well, allow me to ponder this." Andrew struggled to maintain his composure, unsure whether to take offense or laugh. At last, he admitted, "I know you've endured unimaginable hardship, but sharing such a fanciful story seems… a bit much?"
Herti's expression remained unchanged. "I expected you to react this way; we ourselves could hardly believe it at first. But the Cecil family's ancestor has indeed risen from his eternal rest. We witnessed him rising from his tomb, sword in hand, and we've verified that he is truly resurrected, not some trick or necromantic ritual."
Andrew sighed, torn between amusement and disbelief. "If you have a request, just say it plainly. This…"
Gawain signaled for Herti to sit, placed his sword on the table, and turned to face Andrew. "Viscount, what purpose would Herti have in spinning such a tale? A viscount's domain destroyed by monsters and elemental surges, even a dragon overhead—such an event could easily reach His Majesty's ears. In a situation this dire, would we dress someone up in old costumes and arm him with an imitation sword to tell you a fairy tale for entertainment?"
With that, he channeled his mana into the Pioneer's Sword. As it glowed, the ancient blade's markings brightened, forming the Cecil family's emblem near the hilt—the intersecting blade and plow symbolizing the family's pioneering legacy.
Although knights had magic, their use differed significantly from mages'. While much of the sword's power had waned, its essential characteristics remained. The moment Andrew saw the blade, he was spellbound—he had only seen its replica displayed in the royal palace years ago, yet he recognized the real thing immediately.
Could the Cecil family have exhumed their ancestor's grave to retrieve the sacred sword just for a grand deception?
Andrew hesitated. If this were a charade, its cost was extraordinary. But if not…
The ancestor of the family, dead for seven hundred years, suddenly returning from his grave was unbelievable.
"You could have elven craftsmen verify the sword's authenticity," Gawain said, seeing Andrew's mixed expression. "The blade was forged by their ancestors, and they would know how to examine it. Or bring portraits of the founding generals; my appearance hasn't changed much in these seven centuries." He chuckled. "If you're lucky, maybe one of the elves who fought alongside me still remembers."
"No, that won't be necessary." Viscount Andrew sighed, rubbing his forehead. "For a legend like yourself… Perhaps resurrection after seven centuries is not impossible."
Though he spoke these words, it was clear to all that he still harbored doubts about Gawain's identity. He seemed willing to put the matter aside, however, given the extraordinary circumstances.
Why bother questioning such an outlandish claim? If the Cecils said it was true, then let it be. After all, what harm could a man who had been dead for seven hundred years possibly cause?
Now that he had settled on this pragmatic stance, Andrew finally registered something Gawain had mentioned. "Wait… did you say a dragon appeared nearby?"
"Indeed. A blue dragon, though it eventually flew northwest…" Gawain confirmed, then recounted the events in the Cecil domain. "… and that's the whole story."
"Mutated creatures… horrors from the Magic Tide… and a dragon…" Andrew's face turned ashen. "What is happening to this world?"
"The condition of the world is for scholars and His Majesty to worry about. Our task is to get this information to St. Sunnir City as swiftly as possible," Herti
interrupted. "The situation is grave."
"I sent a messenger to report the attack on Cecil," said Viscount Andrew. "He rode out on a fast horse and should be halfway there by now."
The viscount had done quite a bit already. He had accepted Cecil's refugees and immediately sent a messenger to inform the king. In these remote lands, his actions were commendable. But Herti needed more. "Viscount, this is not enough. Rebecca must personally report to His Majesty, and the Duke of Cecil must also appear in the capital. We appreciate all you've done, but we still need more help."
Andrew cast his eyes downward, as though in contemplation, before rising and pacing before the long table.
"What is it you need? Fast horses, supplies, escorts?"
"All of the above," Rebecca replied boldly. "And we must also ask that you continue to shelter Cecil's people a little longer—until we return from the capital with arrangements for a new territory."
"That is the crux of the issue," Andrew interrupted, lifting a hand. "While I take pride in helping my neighbors, I am but a viscount. I cannot feed all these refugees alone."
Rebecca was about to argue that Sir Philip had brought gold and silver from the Cecil domain to help cover the costs, but Andrew continued.
"Rest assured, I am not one to exploit a crisis. However, food and medicine carry expenses. As I've mentioned, when that brave knight arrived, he was severely wounded, as were the soldiers and commoners he brought. Healing them required my best supplies and skilled clerics, and that alone depleted nearly all they brought."
Rebecca's eyes widened.
"But as I said, I am no opportunist," Andrew added, "and I am willing to continue aiding the Cecil family. Yet, I need some assurance—does the Cecil family still have the means to repay this debt?"