Truth be told, Rebecca was far from grasping the nuances of these political matters. Even after Gawain's explanation, she only half-understood, though one thing was clear: her ancestor didn't seem to have a high opinion of King Francis II.
"Not exactly hostility," Gawain said offhandedly, noticing Rebecca's questioning expression, "but caution is absolutely necessary." He glanced over at Amber but continued openly. "Remember, this is the 'Second Dynasty.' For a monarchy without a solid claim to legitimacy, the Cecil family can either be viewed as a founding hero's lineage or as relics of a bygone era. Even if we have no such intentions, a king like Francis II can't help but harbor such suspicions. His worries force me to be on guard."
Rebecca blinked in curiosity. "So… are you going to cause trouble for the king?"
"No, not trouble—just a bit of stirring the pot," Gawain shrugged nonchalantly.
Rebecca looked baffled. "Wait… what?"
Deciding not to delve into another explanation, Gawain redirected the conversation. "Enough about that; it's time to discuss something else. Amber…"
Before he could finish, Amber raised her hands in preemptive surrender. "Yeah, yeah, I get it, back on watch. Busy night for me, huh?"
"No," Gawain arched an eyebrow, "you're free to stay. Of course, if you're bored, you could head back to your room and rest—it has been quite a night."
Amber looked at him with suspicion. "What's gotten into you? Feeling charitable all of a sudden?" She quickly moved closer to the desk, muttering, "No way am I missing out. I want to see what you're up to—don't tell me this is really about inheritance?"
Ignoring her, Gawain placed the platinum disk back on the table.
"You mentioned this was a key," Rebecca prompted, recalling Gawain's unfinished explanation. "Could it be… some family treasure?"
Amber perked up her ears, feigning disinterest with exaggerated glances around the room.
Gawain chuckled. "It is indeed a treasure—a hidden vault on the southern border, originally prepared for the Kingdom of Ansu. It may not seem like much now, but to the pioneers who fled here with nothing, it was half the expedition's wealth."
Rebecca's eyes widened in amazement.
"It was a backup plan for the fledgling kingdom because, back then, we never knew what tomorrow might bring…" Gawain smiled, finally sharing the true purpose of his visit to the capital. "When our expedition fled from the Gondor Wastelands to the north, we gathered survivors and resources as we went, and our ranks swelled. But as we crossed the Dark Mountains, a monstrous horde from the Wastelands tracked us down. We couldn't move quickly with so many civilians and supplies, so a brutal battle ensued.
"After assessing the damage, Charlie and I made a critical decision: to leave some of our most cumbersome supplies behind, hidden deep within an abandoned border fortress. We placed powerful seals over the vault, then lightened our load and pressed northward."
Rebecca leaned in, captivated. "Why didn't you retrieve it once you'd settled?"
"Initially, the situation was too unstable, and the cost was high," Gawain explained. "Corruption continued to spread, and the monsters even pushed their territory north of the Dark Mountains at one point. Our cache lay deep within that corrupted zone, and it was simply too risky to send a retrieval party.
"Besides, we eventually found abundant resources in the northern mountains, and wealth from the Holy Spirit Plains started flowing. Soon, we didn't need the supplies left in the south, and the vault was forgotten over time."
Rebecca gazed at the platinum disk in Gawain's hand. "But… not entirely forgotten?"
"Not quite," Gawain replied. "The pioneers made sure to pass down the memory of it. That treasure, left behind in the south, became a sort of monument to our journey. Besides, we knew the magical corruption would fade one day, allowing future generations to reclaim it if needed.
"Charlie and I agreed to keep the vault a secret, shared between our two families. Each generation of the Cecil and Moen families would pass down this knowledge. When the time came—when the kingdom needed it and it was safe—the treasure would be there to aid Ansu. Imagine it: a multi-century legacy, a vault hidden in the mountains, passed down from one generation to the next. A touch melodramatic, yes, but Charlie thought it would be… cool."
Amber glanced skeptically at Gawain. "This was one of those decisions you two made after a drinking session, wasn't it?"
"More or less."
Rebecca blinked, looking at her ancestor with a mix of awe and frustration. "But I, as a Cecil descendant, never heard this story…"
"This kind of inheritance is prone to mishaps," Gawain sighed. "I died rather unexpectedly back then—never had the chance to pass it down…"
Rebecca stared in silence.
"But it seems Charlie managed to pass the secret to his line well enough," Gawain continued, clearing his throat to break the tension. He lifted the platinum disk. "My goal in coming here was to check if this key was still intact. Since it's here, it confirms that the Ansu royal family hasn't touched the vault for the past seven centuries. Charlie knew of it, his legitimate heirs knew of it, but it's likely the secret was lost with the… complications in the royal lineage."
During Ansu's chaotic years in 635–636, a civil war tore apart the royal succession. When the king died childless, his siblings perished in the ensuing conflict. Ultimately, a Northern Duke crowned a supposed royal bastard from the common folk, whose legitimacy was doubtful. Even if he was truly the king's son, there was no way he'd have known about the southern vault.
Rebecca's eyes gleamed as she looked at the "key," though she hesitated. "But… are we really entitled to use it? That vault was…"
Gawain gave his many-greats-granddaughter a firm look. "Of course. You're a Cecil. Take some pride in that. I buried that treasure with Charlie, and I can't think of anyone more fitting to reclaim it—besides, I doubt he'll be climbing out of *his* grave."
Rebecca pondered this and suddenly clung to Amber's arm. "Promise me, don't go digging up royal tombs!"
Amber blinked. "What?"
After a pause, realization dawned on her. She stared at Gawain with a mix of horror and resignation. "Hold on—after hearing all these secrets… you're not planning on killing me, are you?"
Gawain sighed. "If I wanted to do that, I wouldn't have waited this long."
Amber's face remained tense. "But, listening to all these things—secrets! Isn't it—"
"First, I trust you. Second, I know you're smart enough…" Gawain lifted the disk. "The only foolish idea you might have would be to steal this disk. But the disk requires the blood of the Cecil or Moen families to activate. And it's uncertain whether any Moen bloodline even remains. So if you want a reward, your only option is…"
Amber stepped forward, putting on a noble, upright expression. "Serving a founding hero is an honor beyond measure. I, Amber, vow to devote myself wholeheartedly—money's irrelevant in such an epic quest, right?"
"So we're really not talking money, then?"
"Well, if you insist…"
Gawain had never seen someone so brazenly shameless while pretending to be self-righteous.
At last, the night passed without further interruptions. Gawain's line of mouse traps and nails by the window went unused—though he suspected they wouldn't have deterred those pesky shadow stalkers anyway.
The next day, refreshed and prepared, Gawain and his entourage arrived at Silver Castle.
The same court official from the day before greeted them, and Francis II replicated the grand welcoming ceremony from the previous day, showing remarkable dedication to appearances. This time, two squads of heralds rode out on horseback, circling the main roads around the royal district and proclaiming loudly, via amplification magic, that "Gawain Cecil, Duke and Founding Hero of Ansu, is approaching Silver Castle."
Clearly, Prince Edmund had faithfully conveyed Gawain's intentions, and Francis II went to great lengths to stage a public spectacle. How well the king had taken the previous night's visit from the Shadow Guard, however, would be evident soon enough.
Straightening his attire, ensuring the Sword of the Pioneer hung prominently at his waist, Gawain strode proudly into Silver Castle.