Although there were only twelve soldiers with him, and though the name of Cecil had long since faded from the political heart of the kingdom, Gawain entered the city in the most striking way, bearing a banner last seen seven centuries ago.
This banner was one that could only be displayed while Gawain Cecil was alive. Raising it wasn't about announcing his presence; it was more a signal to the current Ansu royal family: "The one entering isn't the seventeen-year-old Viscount Cecil but the Duke of the South."
Upon receiving the report from his steward, King Francis II immediately understood the message from this "ancient one." The elderly king stepped out onto the terrace of Silver Castle, gazing in the direction of the Cecil family's entry into the city.
From this distance, he could see nothing—the city had grown far too large since those days, so vast that the edge could no longer be seen even from the highest point of Silver Castle. He wondered if that ancient figure, slumbering for seven hundred years, felt any surprise upon stepping into this city.
Would he realize that seven centuries had passed and that everything had changed?
The steward remained at his side, awaiting orders. Francis II withdrew his gaze, turning to the unassuming middle-aged man beside him. "Receive him as a duke, and tell him that I will meet him at noon tomorrow. Invite the Duke of the South to rest in Silver Castle for a day to recover from his journey."
The steward nodded, but before he could leave, Francis II added, "Also, aside from the meeting arrangements, fulfill any request Duke Cecil may have. There must be no breaches in courtesy."
The steward departed, and soon, a young man with handsome features and short golden hair, dressed in fine attire, approached. He had been standing nearby all along. "Father, do you believe that this 'resurrected' duke is real?"
"That's not the key issue…" Francis II looked at his heir. "Though Andrew sent that letter and we have many pieces of evidence, whether this ancient duke is truly who he claims to be depends on what unfolds next.
"For now, I can only say this… it certainly isn't some prank. This resurrected ancient has given us quite the 'surprise.'"
The young man lowered his gaze in feigned humility. "What do you believe his intentions to be?"
"Until we meet, all we can do is speculate. Judging by the impact he has made along his journey and the rumors that someone clearly helped spread, he certainly wouldn't reveal his intentions so plainly in advance."
The old king shook his head. "You may seek an opportunity to make contact with him and observe his attitude. But tread carefully—we are dealing with an unprecedented situation. Don't provoke him."
The young man nodded and withdrew, and Francis II turned back toward the city with a faint sigh.
Still too young, he thought. His heir had yet to master the art of concealing his true thoughts; his eagerness about this mysterious ancient figure was obvious at a glance. But it was not a major issue. Rather than letting him secretly seek an opportunity, he might as well grant it openly.
After watching his steward ride off from the palace, Francis II nodded and spoke to the empty air beside him. "Dark Raven, keep watch on Gawain Cecil's group and report any developments."
As the old king spoke, a faint movement stirred a nearby sheer curtain, though no figure appeared.
"And don't get too close. If he truly is the legend from seven hundred years ago, any reckless approach will be detected," the king added.
The curtain remained still.
Gawain's entourage entered Saint Sunil through the main gate, riding down the central boulevard. Half the city seemed to know of their arrival. Before they reached Silver Castle, they were met by the king's welcoming party.
The reception was grand and elaborate. A red carpet stretched from deep within Silver Castle to Gawain's feet, and festively dressed attendants and maids scattered flower petals along the way. Trumpeters and drummers played in two rows, signaling that the king had likely prepared for this moment well in advance. Yet Gawain could tell that if he had entered the city differently or arrived a day earlier, the formality of the reception would have been adjusted accordingly.
The king must have prepared several contingency plans to meet this occasion.
Though Gawain himself had no experience dealing with nobility or royalty, his memories held much related knowledge and experience. Gawain Cecil, though a figure from the kingdom's founding during its wild, untamed era, had also lived through the grand age of the Gondor Empire. While he had no idea what Ansu was like seven hundred years later, he knew the grandeur of the Gondor Empire from that time.
The Gondor Empire, at its peak, was beyond anything today's kingdoms could imagine.
"Please follow me to Silver Castle. His Majesty has ordered the finest rooms, the best meals, and warm baths to ease the weariness of travel," said a calm-looking reception official—a noble of uncertain lineage—courteously to Gawain. Gawain glanced at Rebecca beside him, noticing that the girl was gazing around curiously, wide-eyed.
Though she had tried to remain composed during the journey, in front of Silver Castle, amidst the grand welcome, this young noblewoman from the countryside was utterly overwhelmed. Her eyes darted everywhere, unsure whether to look at the orderly, splendid honor guard or the majestic, silver-covered palace in the distance.
"I thought the king would be eager to see me…" Gawain shrugged, remaining on his horse as he looked down at the official. "After all, it's not every day one meets someone who's leapt out of a coffin."
The official blinked in slight surprise, seemingly unprepared for the duke's casual manner, but he quickly recovered. "His Majesty took into consideration the fatigue of your journey and therefore scheduled the meeting for tomorrow."
"Oh…" Gawain drew out the pause just long enough for the official to break into a sweat before he continued, "Then I thank His Majesty for his thoughtfulness. But since we're not meeting today, I don't need to stay in his castle. Silver Castle isn't quite to my liking."
The official's expression faltered. "Then… you will…"
"Home is always more comfortable," Gawain said with a smile. "Though I wonder, has Crown Street No. 4 been torn down after all these years?"
Hearing the address "Crown Street No. 4," the official and a few nearby court officers couldn't help but change expressions subtly. Though Francis II had prepared them, they hadn't anticipated Gawain's request going in this direction.
That had been the residence of Gawain Cecil in the capital seven hundred years ago.
Though Gawain was Duke of the South and spent most of his time in his southern territories, like other founding knights, he also had a residence in the capital, built by King Charles I for each knight. These residences were located on Crown Street, the street closest to Silver Castle.
Whenever the knights traveled from their territories to the capital for important discussions, they stayed in their residences—a custom of that time.
Now, seven hundred years later, all the founders (except for one recently "resurrected" one) had passed away, but each residence on Crown Street remained, maintained at royal expense, renovated and repaired over the centuries to ensure their lasting presence.
They had become a kind of living relic, yet they were still inhabited: the descendants of the original knights were alive and had inherited their ancestral properties.
Except for the Cecils. After a particularly gifted Grumman Cecil emerged from the family line a century ago, Crown Street No. 4 had been reclaimed by the royal family.
"Crown Street No. 4…" the official stammered, "it's still there, though it has been renovated many times…"
"Of course," Gawain chuckled. "It's just a residence, after all—not as sturdy as a castle. But if it's been renovated, that means it's well-preserved, yes? I assume staying there won't be a problem?"
"Certainly…" The official had intended to request the king's permission but hesitated upon seeing Gawain's smile. "But…"
"I know, it's royal property now, right?" Gawain said, sparing the official unnecessary trouble. "But I've heard that no one has lived there for the past century?"
"Indeed," the official replied. "The original owner left… many items there, and no one has dared to take them. To this day, no one has had the right to inherit them, so it remains empty."
"Well then, since it's unoccupied, it shouldn't be an issue for me to stay there for the night, right?"
"Of course…" Remembering the king's instructions, the official had no choice but to nod. "Please wait here for a moment, and I will guide you…"
"No need, I still remember the way home." Gawain waved him off. "Just tell the king that I will visit Silver Castle at noon tomorrow."
Then he turned his horse, giving Rebecca's head a pat. "Come on, kid, let's go."
Rebecca, jolted out of her daze, blinked. "Wait, Ancestor, we're not staying in the palace?"
"What's so great about the palace? When it was built, I told Charles that the soil in that area wasn't solid enough. Sure enough, three years after it was finished, the roof cracked open. Come, I'll take you to where I used to live. Now that's a real home."
Watching Gawain and his group leave, the official felt the sweat he'd been holding back finally trickle down his forehead.
He grabbed the nearest
person. "Quick! Send a druid who can transform into a bird to Crown Street No. 4. Have them prepare immediately!"