In the reception room, Gawain met the Prince, accompanied by Rebecca, whom he'd brought along to broaden her experience.
This was Edmund Morn, the favored son of the current king of Ansu, Francis II. Gawain hadn't previously met the prince, but he had specifically brushed up on contemporary royal matters for this trip to the capital, learning much from Heidi and Viscount Andrew.
Francis II, now elderly, had few children: his only other son and a daughter were the crown prince, Wales, who had shown himself disappointingly average, and his younger son, Edmund. Prince Wales, lacking talent and ambition, had been a long-standing source of regret for the king. For seventeen years, he was the crown prince, simply because Francis had no other heir.
However, in the king's later years, a favored consort bore him twins: Princess Veronica Morn and Prince Edmund Morn. Unlike the underwhelming Wales, these twins displayed exceptional talent from a young age, impressing their tutors with both intellect and combat skills.
Thus, Francis II saw his long-standing dilemma over succession finally resolved. Almost without hesitation, he stripped Wales of his crown prince status and redirected the line of succession to his newer offspring. There was no opposition from court or populace; even Prince Wales accepted this arrangement without protest.
Though Ansu's throne allowed succession regardless of gender, the crown prince title ultimately went to Edmund. This was less due to the king's decision and more because Princess Veronica had voluntarily renounced her claim to the throne before the new crown prince was announced. She instead joined the Church of the Holy Light as a nun at the Great Cathedral, rising quickly to become a high priestess. The king had gracefully supported her decision, giving his blessing before sending her off to the church. Following this, Edmund was named crown prince, and the royal succession proceeded smoothly.
Some speculated that Princess Veronica's "devotion" was actually a strategic move, securing royal influence within the independent Holy Light Church by positioning a royal bloodline member within its ranks. Others, however, saw it as a sign of the church's growing influence over the monarchy. Gawain, however, viewed both interpretations as empty speculation and strategic bluster.
The finer details of royal intrigue didn't interest Gawain; he wasn't yet in a position to act on any of it anyway. Instead, he focused on the young man before him.
Edmund Morn was undeniably handsome, with both the chiseled look of a warrior and a composed, scholarly air. His manners were impeccable, textbook-perfect. After a brief greeting, Gawain leaned over to Rebecca and whispered, "See? Take notes—life isn't just about throwing fireballs."
Rebecca considered reminding her ancestor that he was the one egging her on to throw fireballs earlier, but she kept quiet, fearing a reprimand.
Edmund maintained his polite smile. "I hope you find this place comfortable, Sir. If there's anything amiss with the staff or accommodations, please inform Butler James directly."
"Rest assured, there's nowhere I'd feel more at home than in my own house…" Gawain settled into a high-backed chair. "You've done well preserving this place—almost as if it were still seven hundred years ago. You even replicated my favorite tea set. Impressive. Have a seat, don't stand on ceremony."
"To preserve the hero's home is to uphold our honor…" Edmund replied with a mix of curiosity and reverence. "It may sound laughable, but I grew up on tales of your exploits. I even keep a replica of your armor and weapons in my room, dreaming of someday expanding the kingdom's borders and protecting our people… though, of course, that's not the path of a crown prince or a king."
Gawain appraised the prince, his gaze sharp enough to make Edmund fidget. "Do I look strange to you?"
"Could we… speak a little more freely?" Gawain waved a hand dismissively. "I may have been dead seven centuries, but I was only thirty-five when I died, not much older than you are now."
Edmund looked embarrassed. "True… I can't help adding those seven hundred years to your age…"
"There's bound to be a seven-century gap," Gawain chuckled. "Back then, we spoke far more directly. A brawl or a drink was enough to get straight to the point, but people these days love to dance around everything."
Edmund blinked in surprise, then laughed, visibly relieved. "I knew it! You're not as formal as my father thinks. He lectured me for ages about being polite, and I told him—too much small talk just gets annoying."
"There you go—that's the kind of straight talk I like…" Gawain nodded approvingly. "So, let's get to it. You're here to test the waters, aren't you?"
"Isn't that a bit too direct…"
"Ancient folks are all frank," Gawain continued, thinking to himself that, at least among humans, he was the only one around to spin tales about the ancient dead. "So no need to be coy. Your father sent you to figure out what this old ghost plans to do now that I've risen from the grave, right?"
Edmund shrugged. "This isn't my father's idea—he's far too cautious to have me directly ask your intentions. It's my own curiosity, though I am interested in your motives."
Gawain gestured for him to continue.
"You've been awake for quite some time, so you're probably aware of all the changes in the past seven hundred years… especially those of the last century…" Edmund paused, glancing at Rebecca. "Are you here for the Cecil family's interests?"
"That's too broad a question," Gawain replied. "Of course, I'm here for the family's interests. But the question is—which ones exactly?"
Gawain gave the prince a shrewd look. "From where I stand, there's quite a bit I could claim. The most obvious starting points are the hereditary duchy title and the Southern Territory granted to the Cecil family—hardly trivial topics, are they?"
Edmund was taken aback, unsure whether Gawain was serious, but he forced a smile and replied, "Your title and lands were passed to your descendants after your death. Later, when your descendants violated the kingdom's laws, they forfeited their title and lands. All of this was conducted within the framework of kingdom law…"
Gawain adjusted his posture, leaning in with a faint smile. "Indeed, according to kingdom law. But let's not forget: my successor could only fully inherit my title and lands upon my death. While I was alive, only my eldest son could inherit a title of one rank below mine and hold limited *de jure delegation rights*. All other Cecil descendants had only noble status without any lawful authority.
"So, technically, I'm alive now. And Ansu's laws have nothing to say about how to handle the inheritance of someone who dies and then comes back, let alone how to resolve conflicts that arise when rights were supposedly both activated and voided."
*(De jure delegation rights in Ansu law allow qualified noble heirs to act in the family's name, with corresponding privileges and responsibilities.)*
Edmund: "?!"
Gawain spread his hands. "So, the whole transfer was invalid. That Grumman fellow from a century ago should neither have been a marquis nor held any of the Cecil family's legal authority. You took something from someone who had no right to it."
Rebecca looked at her ancestor in astonishment, amazed at this level of maneuvering. In the adjacent room, Amber, eavesdropping with her ear pressed to the wall, glanced over at Knight Byron and whispered, "Wow, he's even bolder than I am!"
Prince Edmund's expression teetered on the edge of disbelief, his mouth twitching as he finally managed to stammer, "Who could've expected someone to come back from the dead when they wrote those laws… and you *did* die, after all."
"So when speaking with me, set aside all those logical constraints—they ceased to apply when I emerged from the grave," Gawain chuckled. "Don't worry, I'm not after those lost lands or titles. I know what that wastrel a century ago did, and if it had been me, I'd have disciplined him, too. The royal judgment was fair, and I don't intend to overturn it.
"I just want you to realize that if I *were* inclined to nitpick through the kingdom's laws about the Cecils' inheritance, there's plenty to go through. The succession rules are all tangled around whether I'm alive or dead."
"Fine, I get it…" Edmund held up his hands in surrender. "And you said earlier that people seven centuries ago were straightforward and didn't beat around the bush. But it turns out you're trickier than my debate tutor."
"Remember, I didn't just experience Ansu's wild days—I also lived through the height of the Gondor Empire. Don't underestimate a seven-century-old fossil…" Gawain smirked. "When we were barbaric, we ate raw meat; when we were refined, we gave one type of wine thirty-six names, each with a sonnet to match."
"That's impressive…" Edmund admitted, looking thoroughly convinced. "In that case, may we discuss what you plan to talk about with my father tomorrow?"
Gawain nodded, thinking that this meeting, more than the formal one tomorrow, was indeed the true negotiation.