Returning from the mountain vault, Gawain's team brought back not only invaluable relics but also a renewed sense of purpose. Rebecca, Amber, and Sir Byron, though initially overwhelmed by the treasures they uncovered, soon recognized the broader implications of their discovery.
As Sir Byron, a former mercenary, surveyed the rare relics, he realized how significantly they surpassed the simple treasures he had encountered before. Rebecca, raised amid the frugal remnants of a noble family, found herself astounded by the sheer volume and quality of the items stored here. For Amber, the vault was beyond her most extravagant dreams; even she doubted she could ever make off with more than a fraction of its wealth.
Once their initial shock subsided, curiosity filled the void. Much of the vault's contents—magical crystals and ancient equipment—represented the Gondorian Empire's advanced technology, long lost to time. These relics were irreplaceable; with each passing generation, fewer artisans understood the technology that once empowered the early founders of Ansu.
For Amber, who tended to ignore the historical and magical context of artifacts, the primary allure was the potential value of each item.
"Gondorian gold coins… shielded silver coins… and real three-leaf clovers!" she exclaimed, diving into a chest and running her hands over the ancient currency. "Money! Actual, real money! Boss, we're rich!"
Gawain reached over, pulling her back with a firm hand. "Calm down. That's *my* money, not yours."
With a mock-seriousness, Amber replied, "As your most loyal follower, what's yours is mine!"
Gawain chuckled, not entirely surprised. "These coins are the least valuable items here. The real treasures are the crystals." He gestured toward boxes containing enchanted crystals and unrefined mana stones. "Those unprocessed stones are raw mana-rich ores, Rebecca. They'll require refinement but are extremely valuable resources. The crystals in these boxes, however, are rare Gondorian military-grade artifacts. They'll enhance the combat effectiveness of our forces for years. As for the swords and armor, however… they're not in great shape. The enchantments within them have degraded significantly."
The vault's enchantments had slowed oxidation, but nothing could entirely halt the breakdown of complex magical systems over time. Though well-preserved, even the best preservation spells had their limits. The crystals, too, showed signs of wear, with their stored energy likely diminished to a third of their original charge.
Despite Gawain's pragmatic assessment, Rebecca and Amber could barely contain their excitement, their eyes fixed on the ancient artifacts.
"A treasure of this magnitude…" Sir Byron said, his voice betraying awe. "It lay here at the edge of the kingdom all this time, unknown to anyone…"
"In a way, we have the Moonshadow Insurrection to thank for that," Gawain observed. "As long as the Morne family remembered this vault, it was beyond reach due to the magical cataclysm. When the barriers finally weakened, the Morne family line had already faded. Fate has its own way of steering fortunes."
While Gawain spoke of fate, his thoughts centered on the flaws of the current feudal system. In a society where wealth and knowledge were tightly guarded by nobility, valuable resources often fell into disuse or were lost entirely. With a family line extinguished, immense fortunes could lie hidden, awaiting discovery.
Had the Morne family cataloged these assets rather than safeguarding them as private treasure, the royal treasury might have retained them. But it was precisely this lack of accountability that now allowed Gawain to make use of these resources. The irony, he thought, was fittingly medieval.
Rebecca looked between the stacks of artifacts, her gaze lingering on the boxes of gold and silver coins. She let out a breath, realization dawning on her. "With these, we can settle our debt with Viscount Andrew, buy food, and even purchase stone and timber."
Gawain shook his head. "No, these coins can't be spent openly."
Rebecca blinked, confused, then comprehension dawned. "They're antiques."
"Exactly. If you start paying with these seven-hundred-year-old Gondorian coins, even the most oblivious merchant will suspect Cecil has struck gold—figuratively and literally. At least until we're fully secure, we can't risk drawing that kind of attention."
Rebecca frowned, concerned. "But we need money immediately…"
"We do," Gawain acknowledged. "But gold is still gold, and silver is silver. Melt them down and mint new coins."
Amber looked stricken, hand clutching her chest dramatically. "Melt them?! These are irreplaceable relics! Even selling them on the black market would be better than melting them down!"
Gawain, unperturbed, replied, "These coins are rare, and we'll retain a portion as-is. However, six chests of them are simply too conspicuous to use publicly. We'll melt some of them down for immediate use and save the rest for when they're needed."
Amber resigned herself to this with a sigh, and Gawain turned to Rebecca, humor in his eyes. "This is why I insisted on keeping my title as Duke Cecil in Silver Castle."
Rebecca stared at him. "Why?"
"A duke has the right to mint currency," Amber interjected, connecting the dots quickly. She looked at Gawain with newfound respect—and a hint of suspicion. "So, you planned on melting these down from the start?"
"Precisely," Gawain admitted without hesitation. "Though I'm a landless duke for the time being, my title grants me certain privileges, currency minting among them."
Amber laughed, shaking her head. "You old nobles know all the tricks. These modern lords just levy taxes on trade caravans."
Gawain met her gaze, his expression thoughtful. "Think long-term. Even this vault's value pales compared to what we aim to build."
After instructing Sir Byron and Rebecca to load some of the crystals and coins, Gawain prepared to leave the vault for now. Although the treasure trove was under his control, much of it couldn't be moved or used immediately. The camp would need fortifications, and a trusted guard force would be necessary. The vault door's protections were reliable but required careful oversight.
He also intended to properly bury the remains of the ancient warrior they had discovered outside the vault. Now that they were reclaiming the land, a respectable burial was the least they could provide.
Sealing the vault with the platinum disk, Gawain and his team descended back to camp.
The riverside camp was bustling. Tents had been pitched, and a rudimentary perimeter was beginning to take shape. Sir Byron and Knight Philip had secured ample materials from Tanzan, using the fabric and wood to construct makeshift shelters. Skilled artisans set to work immediately, aided by Heidi's assistance spells, and the camp was rapidly transforming into a small, organized settlement.
Following Gawain's instructions, tents had been arranged in a fan shape along the river's southern bank. Food, iron tools, and key supplies were stored at the center, with wood stockpiled near the riverbank. Carts were positioned strategically to create a temporary barricade while a more permanent fence was erected. The wilderness was unpredictable, and they needed to be prepared for any potential threats.
Heidi stood at the camp's center, visibly weary from her work. When she saw Gawain, she greeted him with a smile.
"Ancestor, you're back. Did you find what you were looking for?"
"Yes, and more than enough to help us establish this place," Gawain replied. "The vault contains everything we need to secure our foothold."
The exhaustion on Heidi's face faded, replaced by a glimmer of hope. "Then we have a real chance to establish ourselves here."
"Indeed," Gawain affirmed, his gaze moving over the camp. "This is only the beginning."
As he observed the camp, Gawain felt a renewed sense of purpose. But his optimism dimmed as he noticed subtle signs of carelessness—shoddy construction, loose nails, and apathetic expressions among the laborers.
Many of the peasants and laborers lacked any sense of ownership or pride in their work. Gawain saw their reluctance and the occasional shortcuts they took. He was well aware of the historical context that shaped their attitudes: these laborers didn't see this place as theirs. For them, the tents and structures belonged to the lord. They believed, quite reasonably, that they would eventually be moved off to make way for the lord's own structures.
Frustrated but understanding, Gawain knew he had overestimated their willingness to embrace the settlement as their home. He called Heidi and Rebecca over.
Standing near a tent that appeared sturdy from afar but leaned precariously up close, he pointed out the sloppy construction. "What do you see here?"
Heidi, misinterpreting his tone, lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Ancestor. I should have supervised more closely…"
Gawain cut her off. "This isn't about supervision. It's about the workers' approach."
Rebecca thought for a moment, then said, "Ancestor, perhaps you expect too much from them. Most of these laborers only know how to farm or mine. They're not accustomed to complex tasks, and setting up a camp like this—especially with specific requirements—is overwhelming."
Gawain shook his head. "This isn't as complicated as it seems. I broke down each task into the simplest steps. All they needed to do was hammer, tie, or cut. This isn't beyond them."
Heidi and Rebecca exchanged puzzled looks, unsure of what to make of his frustration. To
them, it was common knowledge that peasants and serfs lacked the capacity for skilled labor or complex thinking.
Gawain understood that their mindsets were shaped by the rigid class hierarchy of their era. They could be progressive within their society's norms but were still bound by the ingrained belief that peasants and serfs were inherently limited. He didn't expect to change their thinking overnight. But he needed a way to ensure the camp was built properly.
"Gather everyone—peasants, serfs, soldiers," he ordered. "I'll address them all at once."
The workers assembled quickly, with Amber and Betty joining out of curiosity.
None of them knew what Gawain planned to say. The peasants and serfs, in particular, feared that more demanding orders were about to come. Many wore resigned expressions.
Standing on a large rock, Gawain surveyed the hundred or so people below. Raising his voice, he addressed the crowd.
"People of Cecil, I have something to say—about your future and the new laws of the Cecil Domain."
The murmurs ceased as the crowd's attention turned to him.
"Today, you set up the beginnings of our settlement. This is not a temporary camp but the start of a home—a home that belongs to all of us."
Peasants and serfs looked at each other, bewildered. To them, land and property were concepts associated only with the nobility. Gawain's words defied everything they knew.
"This land," he continued, "will not be a place where labor serves only the lord. Here, you will build your future, not as laborers working under compulsion but as settlers laying the foundation of a community. The structures you build now will protect and house you. This is not a task for peasants or serfs—it is a task for the people of Cecil."
Heidi and Rebecca listened in awe, finally realizing his intentions.
"In this land, you will work and live with dignity. Your efforts will secure a future for yourselves and your families. Together, we will make Cecil Domain a place worth protecting."
A murmur of hope spread through the crowd. They couldn't fully grasp Gawain's vision yet, but they sensed the promise of something different.
As Gawain looked at the faces around him, he felt that first spark of possibility take root. The path forward would be difficult, but with this first step, the future of Cecil was already beginning to take shape.