Returning from the mountain vault, Gawain's group carried not only invaluable relics but also a renewed sense of purpose. Rebecca, Amber, and Sir Byron, still in awe of the treasures they'd uncovered, struggled to comprehend the sheer scale of the wealth now in their possession.
Sir Byron, a former mercenary, had seen his share of supposed "hidden treasures" in the mountains. Yet the dusty trinkets he once encountered paled in comparison to the rune-protected military supplies now before them. Rebecca, a noblewoman of modest means, had grown up with limited resources; even the family's best heirlooms couldn't rival the gleaming riches filling this ancient cache. As for Amber, the rogue with an eye for value, she found herself overwhelmed. It was rare for her to admit, but there was no way she could "liberate" all of these items from the vault on her own.
Yet as their initial shock subsided, curiosity took hold. Much of what lay before them—particularly the magical crystals and equipment—was crafted with advanced Gondorian technology. These were relics of a bygone era, equipment that had been irreplaceable for centuries. During the early days of Ansu's founding, the pioneering forces had relied on such items. But as each piece wore out, it was lost to history, leaving today's people with only faint memories of the technological wonders Gondor had once achieved.
Amber, however, wasn't concerned with history or magical theory—her focus remained solely on the value of the loot before them.
"Gondorian gold coins… shielded silver coins… and real three-leafed clovers!" she squealed, diving toward a chest filled with coins and burying her face in the golden pile. "Money! Actual, real money! Boss, we're rich!"
Gawain pulled her back, gripping her by the collar with a firm hand. "Calm down. That's *my* money, not yours."
With feigned righteousness, Amber replied, "As your most loyal follower, what's yours is mine!"
Gawain rolled his eyes. "These coins are the least valuable things here. The real treasures are the crystals." He gestured toward the boxes filled with enchanted crystals and unrefined mana stones. "The unprocessed crystals outside the boxes are mana-rich ores. Rebecca, you should recognize them as a mage. They'll require some refinement but will be invaluable. The crystals in these boxes, however, are Gondorian military-grade crystals. They can boost the combat effectiveness of our forces for years to come. As for the swords and armor… they're in a bit of a sorry state. The magical mechanisms within them are almost completely degraded, and I'm not sure how functional they are."
The vault's enchantments had slowed oxidation and corrosion, preserving the metal, but it couldn't halt the breakdown of complex magical systems. Though these items had impressive "shelf lives," even the best preservation spells had limits over seven centuries. Even the military crystals in the vault had diminished, their stored energy likely reduced to a third of their original capacity. These relics were fragile and, in some cases, volatile.
Yet for the fledgling Cecil family, they represented an invaluable fortune.
Despite Gawain's caution, both Rebecca and Amber could barely contain their excitement as they gazed at the artifacts.
"A fortune of this magnitude…" Sir Byron's voice wavered as he spoke, his mouth dry with astonishment. "It lay here at the edge of the kingdom all this time, unknown to anyone…"
"In some ways, we have the Moonshadow Insurrection to thank for that," Gawain mused. "While the Morne family remembered this treasure, the magical cataclysm prevented anyone from reaching it. By the time the danger had passed, the Morne family's lineage had already faded. It's… fate, in a way."
Though he spoke of fate, Gawain's true sentiments lay with the flawed feudal system that allowed such treasures to be lost in the wilderness. In this system, all wealth belonged to kings and lords, with a nation's resources treated as private property. When a family's line ended, its fortunes fell into ruin. How absurd, he thought, that these riches had become unclaimed relics in the mountains.
If the Morne family had cataloged and documented these treasures instead of treating them as private assets, the royal treasury could have safeguarded them for future generations. However, perhaps the very system that neglected these assets also enabled Gawain's access to them. Middle Ages serendipity, he concluded—an irony of history.
Rebecca glanced over the ancient weaponry and crystals before turning to the box of coins, a mix of gold and silver. She exhaled, the weight of their newfound wealth sinking in. "With these, we can settle our debt with Viscount Andrew, buy food, and even purchase stone and timber."
But Gawain shook his head. "No, these coins can't be spent openly."
She blinked in surprise before the realization dawned. "They're antiques."
"Exactly. Imagine carrying these seven-hundred-year-old Gondorian coins to a merchant. Even the dimmest trader would figure out that the Cecils have found treasure. At least until we're fully established, we can't risk exposing these coins."
"So… what do we do?" Rebecca's brow furrowed with concern. "We're in desperate need of funds…"
"Simple. Gold is gold, and silver is silver. Thanks to the precious metals market, we can simply melt these down," Gawain said, a grin spreading across his face. The plan made Amber wince visibly. "We'll reforge some of it to cover our immediate needs. The rest we'll keep in reserve."
Amber gasped, her hand clutching her chest as if wounded. "Melt them?! You're going to melt down these ancient coins?! Even selling them on the black market would be better than that!"
Gawain laughed, his tone unyielding. "Yes, ancient coins in pristine condition, many of which are lost designs only seen in history books. You could perhaps get away with selling one or two, but try unloading six chests' worth and see what happens. Survive that, and I'll let you keep an entire box."
Amber considered attempting to sneak away with a chest of coins but, glancing at Gawain's arm, decided against it. She muttered, "Still feels like a waste…"
"We'll melt only what we need," Gawain assured her, "and keep the rest safe for later. These are valuable assets. We're not about to squander them."
Amber finally relented, her expression less sullen. Gawain turned to Rebecca, a glint of humor in his eyes. "Now you understand why I insisted on keeping my title as Duke Cecil in Silver Castle, don't you?"
Rebecca blinked, puzzled. "Why?"
"Think about it! A duke has the right to mint currency!" Amber interjected, catching on quickly. She whirled to face Gawain. "So, you intended to melt down and re-mint these ancient coins from the beginning, didn't you?"
Gawain chuckled. "Precisely. Even as a 'landless' duke without a formal estate, I retain the inherent legal privileges of my title. Currency minting is just one of them."
Amber, wide-eyed, finally conceded, "You old nobles really know how to play the game. Compared to you, the other lords are just amateurs, taxing merchants and harassing travelers."
Gawain's gaze turned thoughtful. "Think bigger. Even this entire vault pales compared to what we aim to build in the future."
After instructing Sir Byron and Rebecca to load some of the crystals and coins, Gawain prepared to leave the vault for now. Although he now controlled the treasure, it couldn't all be moved or utilized immediately. First, the camp had to be properly fortified, and trusted soldiers assigned to guard the vault. While the door's magical protections remained strong, it needed careful oversight now that they had discovered it.
He also intended to properly bury the ancient warrior they had found outside the vault. The rough pile of stones was hardly a fitting memorial. Now that they were reclaiming this land, the fallen hero deserved a place of rest that reflected the respect of a grateful generation.
With the platinum disk, Gawain sealed the vault once more, and the team began their descent back to camp.
The riverside camp was a hive of activity. Tents had been erected, and the beginnings of a perimeter were taking shape. Sir Byron and Knight Philip had secured ample materials from the nearby town of Tanzan, bringing in the necessary fabric, wood, and supplies to assemble makeshift shelters. The first group of settlers, largely composed of skilled artisans, quickly set to work. With Heidi's assistance, several support spells accelerated the construction, and the camp now resembled a small, organized village.
Following Gawain's instructions, tents were arranged in a fan-shaped pattern along the Whitewater River's southern bank. Food, iron tools, and critical supplies were stored at the center of camp, with prefabricated wood materials stacked near the riverbank. The carts used for transporting goods were strategically positioned around the camp's perimeter, acting as temporary barriers while they worked on a proper fence. Though the magic tides had subsided, the wilderness was unpredictable, and their defenses needed to be ready for any danger lurking beyond.
Gawain found Heidi near the center of the camp, visibly weary from days of labor but focused on her work. A tired smile appeared on her face when she saw Gawain approach.
"Ancestor, welcome back," she greeted him. "Did you find what you were looking for?"
"Yes, and much more," Gawain replied, a note of satisfaction
in his voice. "The vault holds everything we need to defend and expand this land."
Heidi's face lit up, the exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "Then we have a real chance to establish ourselves here."
"Indeed," Gawain affirmed, his gaze sweeping over the camp. "We've taken the first steps. But the road ahead is long."
They stood there, watching the camp bustle with activity as settlers and soldiers worked side by side. With each passing day, their temporary camp was transforming into the beginnings of a fortified settlement—a testament to the Cecil family's legacy and a foundation for future prosperity.