Those who had escaped the nightmare of Cecil Territory were both fortunate and unfortunate.
Burning houses, land corrupted by elemental forces, monstrous giants striding out of the mist, and friends and family perishing in the chaos—all these memories haunted every survivor who had fled to safety in Tanzan Town. Even with knights and soldiers protecting them, fear had never left their hearts.
Even the armored soldiers hadn't been able to sleep soundly for days. Many sought solace in alcohol to numb their minds, while those too poor to afford it could only endure the haunting memories. As refugees forced into a foreign lord's land, their poor living conditions worsened their suffering.
Maintaining order among the refugees was nearly impossible, and even Sir Philip struggled to keep his soldiers organized and ensure their daily reports.
Yet, the lord had returned safely, bringing with her an unexpected and powerful ally.
Outside Tanzan Town, Rebecca looked at the gathered citizens, dressed in rags, faces weary. Though Viscount Andrew had managed to provide them with basic shelter and food, nobles rarely extended more than minimal aid to commoners. The fact that these people hadn't frozen or starved was already a testament to his unusual generosity, and Rebecca knew she couldn't ask for more.
For those who had fled Cecil Territory, the return of their lord was a potent reassurance.
In this era, peasants had little sense of loyalty to their lord. Although Rebecca was known as a kind and friendly lord (largely due to her naivety, which kept her from learning the shrewdness of other nobles), she had been in charge for less than a year. Due to the slow spread of information, many people likely didn't even know what their lord looked like.
Yet, her presence offered comfort. For these fearful people, just having someone promise to protect them was enough. They didn't care who their lord was or what she looked like. Centuries of feudal rule had robbed them of critical thinking, but it had also made them easily content. To Gawain, this was a kind of cohesion born from ignorance and naivety, but it was effective.
Only a small group came to see them off; most remained in Tanzan Town, guarding their belongings or working for food. Rebecca glanced at the people gathered, wanting to say something but unsure what. She turned to Sir Philip. "These people will rely on you, Sir Knight. Ensure that no one goes missing before we return."
"With my oath, I swear!" Sir Philip straightened his chest, his voice firm. "I will guard every subject and every piece of Cecil family property for you!"
"And don't forget the task I gave you," Gawain added. "Viscount Andrew will assist you where needed. Deploy those who are quick-witted and sharp-tongued—don't hesitate to spend money. What they're doing is worth far more than gold."
"Yes!" the young knight replied, though he looked confused. Raised in an isolated time and trained solely in combat, he found it hard to grasp Gawain's strategy. "But is that task truly so important?"
"Of course it is," Gawain replied with a smile. "On a small scale, it's just gossip. On a larger scale, it's public opinion. Don't underestimate these invisible forces. When everyone starts talking about the same thing, even the king will feel unsettled."
After giving instructions, Gawain and Rebecca boarded the carriage provided by Viscount Andrew. Accompanying them were Betty, loyal Knight Byron, Amber, and twelve family soldiers—the best they could manage under the circumstances.
The mature and reliable Heidi was left behind to manage affairs. "Aunt Heidi" was clearly worried about her niece's journey to the capital. She clutched Rebecca's hand, giving her repeated advice: "Remember your status, and don't disgrace the Cecil family. Avoid conflicts with the nobles; be respectful to the king and follow protocol. No throwing fireballs—this isn't the countryside. If you don't understand something, don't rush to respond; consult the ancestor or Sir Byron because every word you say will be scrutinized. Above all, listen to the ancestor. He knows how to deal with nobles far better than you do…"
Listening to Heidi's guidance, Gawain felt a weight in his heart because, truthfully, he had no idea...
In fact, the original Gawain Cecil wouldn't have known either. When the founding hero had passed, Ansu was still ruled by rugged warriors, and court decorum revolved around drinking contests and public quarrels with the king. Seven centuries later, things were likely very different.
But to prevent his already frazzled great-granddaughter from panicking, he placed a reassuring hand on Heidi's shoulder and offered her a calm look. "Don't worry, I understand everything."
With Heidi's relieved smile, the carriage carrying a clueless Rebecca and a seemingly knowledgeable Gawain set off for the capital.
At the same time, Sir Philip dispatched his men as per Gawain's instructions.
These men included sharp-witted citizens, agile locals, and hired thugs. Dealing with these men made the young knight uncomfortable, and the task puzzled him further. Their job was to travel in all directions, head to populated places, slip into taverns, black markets, and slums, and share rumors with the locals.
Preferably, they would also find bards to spread the tales.
In the following days, a strange scene unfolded in the south: strangers with thick accents mingled in crowded places, sharing mysterious tales with solemn expressions. They all told nearly the same story:
"Hey, did you hear? Something happened down south with the Cecil family! Their land was destroyed by monsters and a dragon! They say even the dead stirred, and the legendary ancestor of the Cecil family rose from his tomb… Yes, the famous Gawain Cecil himself! He must have returned to defeat the monsters…"
"Why would I lie? Everyone in the south is talking about it! Go to Tanzan Town or Linmu Town and ask around. Look at my clothes—I just escaped from there. I swear, I saw the ancestor Cecil rise with my own eyes!"
Each person repeated the same story, insisting they'd seen it firsthand. Even those who weren't part of Sir Philip's initial group repeated the tale.
If someone could gather all these rumors, they'd be astonished to find that at least a thousand people had supposedly witnessed the ancestor's revival inside the tomb—and ten thousand more were standing outside watching.
But in this era, those capable of monitoring such things wouldn't care about rumors among commoners. Those who believed and spread them… they wouldn't think twice.
Meanwhile, in the carriage bound for St. Sunil City, Gawain gazed idly at the scenery, contemplating how he'd face the king in the White Silver Fort.
He had little idea how effective Philip's efforts would be—in fact, he was barely thirty percent confident. This was a world of contradictions; magic allowed for conveniences beyond its era, yet supernatural power was held by only a few. People here had not—or didn't see the need to—transform magic into widespread productivity, leaving the lower classes remarkably backward.
Communication relied on shouts, travel on foot, and rumors spread quickly only within towns where barroom gossip was the commoners' sole entertainment. Messages rarely crossed from town to town due to the wilderness and restrictions nobles placed on movement. Without a lord's permission, peasants risked hanging just to buy a chicken in a neighboring village.
The travel permit co-signed by the Cecil and Leslie families allowed for some movement, but it couldn't solve every problem.
Still, taking action was better than doing nothing.
Gawain's goal was simple: spread the story of the "Cecil Ancestor's Revival" as widely as possible. It couldn't remain a secret among nobles; it needed to become popular gossip, even folklore. If possible, it should turn into a campfire tale or a ghost story. Indeed, that was exactly how the rumors were shaping up.
As these stories spread, people would add embellishments, and Gawain didn't care about the specific details. He only needed the story to grow.
Soon, everyone would know that the Cecil family's ancestor had returned—and that the legendary founding duke had awoken just as monsters attacked the kingdom.