Gawain's journey was not fast.
Although Rebecca seemed a bit anxious along the way, Gawain kept to his own pace. He arranged for the team to stop in every town they passed, and during each stop, he instructed the soldiers to disguise themselves as travelers or mercenaries to blend in with the locals. Their mission was to spread the news of "the revival of Duke Gawain Cecil's spirit" and "Duke Gawain's imminent arrival in St. Sunil." He even hired local bards and street rogues to spread even more elaborate and fantastical versions of the story. The funds from Viscount Andrew were more than sufficient for these activities.
Initially, Gawain worried that he and Rebecca, both inexperienced with dealing with the local underworld, might face difficulties. To his surprise, Sir Byron, a middle-aged knight in their company, displayed an extraordinary talent for this task. Although he wasn't the most skilled knight in combat, he was remarkably adept at communicating with the city's "rats," or low-level informants. In each city, Byron quickly established connections, and before the soldiers could spread the news, rumors about the events in the southern lands were already circulating among the locals.
Gawain recalled Byron's background. According to Rebecca, Byron wasn't originally from a noble family but was once a wandering mercenary. He was only taken in by the previous Lord Cecil after a certain incident, which allowed him to join the ranks of the knights. Evidently, Byron's experience as a mercenary had not gone to waste.
Another person who proved invaluable was Amber. True to Gawain's expectations, she excelled in dealing with the city's rogues and troublemakers. Gawain had given the half-elf a small amount of money to bribe some local thugs, but when she returned, she somehow had more money than she'd started with.
Rebecca, being well-mannered and strict, reprimanded Amber for this behavior. To maintain his own respectable image in front of his descendants, Gawain pressed down on Amber's head and made her promise to return the stolen money and refrain from such antics in the future. Amber, feeling wounded, seemed to have had her sense of purpose questioned—though Gawain thought it was probably impossible to give this "shame of the elves" a normal moral compass.
This journey, with its frequent stops, was not just for spreading rumors. Gawain had another, less easy-to-explain reason for his leisurely pace: he needed to understand this world better.
It wasn't only because the memories in his mind were outdated by seven centuries; rather, it was because he himself wasn't originally from this world. The aerial view he had once seen served only as a map, and the memories he had inherited lacked true immersion and flexibility. After several unsuccessful attempts to retrieve information due to a lack of relevant "keywords," Gawain realized he urgently needed to learn about this world.
This process went relatively smoothly.
He saw the impoverished villages of southern Ansu, the bustling cities of the central region, the wild mountains and forests, and the fortresses humans had built. All these sights gradually merged with the memories in his mind of the world he'd once surveyed from above.
Through various clues, he confirmed that the "latest" mental map in his mind was only about ten years old, which he had last observed from above before his descent. For a world that moved at a slow pace, a ten-year-old map was still highly accurate.
As for any issues that might arise in Tanzan Town due to his prolonged absence from the southern region, Gawain wasn't as worried as Rebecca. He trusted Heidi's abilities and believed Viscount Andrew would honor their agreement. It wasn't a matter of trusting Andrew's character; rather, he trusted that mutual interests would bind the viscount to the Cecil family. Before leaving the south, he had instructed Sir Philip to spread various rumors. These rumors served not only to inform people of Gawain Cecil's resurrection but also to make the surviving citizens of the Cecil territory a point of focus. Consequently, Viscount Andrew, who had taken in these citizens, had no choice but to continue supporting them until Gawain returned from the capital and everything settled down.
No matter how long the journey took, it would eventually come to an end. After leaving the southern region for two months, Gawain and his group finally saw the towering walls of St. Sunil.
This city, built on a plain, was far grander than the impoverished southern towns. Its white walls and rows of orderly blue roofs earned it the nicknames "City of White" and "Blue-Crowned Jewel." Since the founding monarch, Charles I, led his people to cultivate this land and build a rudimentary city, it had undergone countless expansions and renovations. The original walls were long gone, leaving only a few commemorative stones in the old city. The new walls were ten times the size of the original, constructed from hard stones from the northern Rock Ridge and eastern regions, with melted copper and lead poured between the stones. Every hundred meters, a crystal blessed with earth magic was embedded in the wall to prevent cracks and deterioration—a level of grandeur that the ancestors could never have imagined.
Standing beneath the towering walls of Sunil, Gawain looked up at the shining stones in the sunlight and realized that nothing in his mind matched the sight before him.
This city was completely different from the small town Gawain Cecil had once known.
Armed with legitimate travel documents and reliable noble credentials, Gawain's party entered the city without any issues.
King Francis II, the ruler of Ansu, waited for these visitors from the south in his palace, the White Silver Fort. In particular, he awaited a very special guest from seven centuries ago.
In fact, he had been waiting anxiously for many days, to the point of near nervous breakdown.
This ancestor was truly troublesome, the current king thought. The intelligence reports from across the southern region, covering every town from the south to the north, had been coming in almost non-stop. Official reports from various levels of government and informal rumors from the public had piled up on his desk to a height of almost a meter, with at least a hundred different versions of the story—and that didn't even include those in regional dialects. Regardless of the version, the central theme was the same: the legendary ancestor had risen from his grave and was leading his descendants toward the capital. But despite the endless stream of information, the ancestor himself… was nowhere to be seen.
Since receiving Viscount Andrew's confidential letter, the initial contingency plans had been abandoned, and the strategies devised with his trusted advisors had all failed one by one due to the ancestor's leisurely pace and grand entrance. By now, Gawain Cecil's return was known by almost everyone who could gather information—at least among merchants and minor nobles.
This left Francis II with very limited options.
The king could only sit in the White Silver Fort, openly welcome the legendary returning duke, converse with him openly, and then, openly and honorably, send this living ancestor away.
At least, in every step that would be scrutinized, he had to remain open and above board.
But Gawain didn't intend to let the king off so easily—or rather, having achieved his initial objectives, he now wanted to test the king's stance and that of his courtiers. So instead of having the entourage discreetly head directly to the White Silver Fort, he ordered his soldiers to retrieve flags from their carriage shortly after entering the city.
These flags bore the insignia of the Cecil family and the royal sword-and-shield emblem of Ansu, side by side. This design was a recreation of the banners used during Gawain Cecil's lifetime as Duke of the South.
Even with only twelve soldiers, they formed an impressive honor guard.
Though the Cecil family had declined significantly, it still clung to its last shred of pride, its legacy of defending people and lands without compromise on the battlefield. Rebecca, now only seventeen, knew only basic fire magic and was possibly the weakest lord the Cecil family had ever produced. Yet, during a crisis, she led the last of her family's soldiers to defend their fortress, allowing the remaining commoners to escape—a testament to the family's legacy.
For this reason, though the Cecil domain was the poorest in the south, it still produced some of the finest warriors.
Even if only a handful of them remained alive.
The soldiers raised the banners, riding two by two, their heads held high, visibly affected by the sight of their family's emblem. Behind them, Gawain and Rebecca rode alongside, having stepped down from their carriage.
Byron led the way, trying his best to project the image of a true noble knight, though Gawain rode up beside him and whispered, "Relax—forget the formalities. When we arrived here back then, some were carrying nothing but woodcutting axes."
At the end of the procession, in the carriage where Gawain and Rebecca would have been, were Amber and the drowsy maid, Betty.
"Nobles really are a strange breed, aren't they?" Amber muttered, glancing outside and then poking Betty's arm. "They'd rather show off on horseback than ride in a comfortable carriage. Must be a mental issue."
Betty's head bobbed up and down as if nodding, then suddenly a small bubble appeared from her nose as she dozed off.
Amber blinked at her, noticing the frying pan by her side. Feeling mischievous, Amber, with all the finesse of a master thief, silently reached out for the pan…
Betty abruptly snatched up the pan, hugging it close as she glared at the astonished Amber. "No! Master said this is mine!"
Amber: "...?"