After a considerable amount of build-up, Gawain finally entered Silver Castle with all the pomp and circumstance that could be mustered. While commoners were too busy to care and ordinary citizens only gave passing interest, the nobility had been following the events closely from the start.
For most of the nobles, however, the walls of the towering, silver-lined fortress blocked any view of what was happening inside. Only a select few, those of the highest rank, had the privilege of entering Silver Castle to witness firsthand what might unfold. The rest could do nothing but speculate, left with half-true rumors and fragments of information.
There was a flurry of reports:
- Duchess Victoria Wilde of the Northern Territories had arrived three days ago.
- Duke Baldwin Franklin of the Western Territories and Duke Silas Lauren of the Eastern Territories had entered an hour prior.
- Several royal advisors and the king's chief minister had also arrived.
Once the castle gates closed, no one knew what was going on inside. Was it a banquet, a private negotiation, a heated argument, or even something more sinister? Speculations ran wild among those watching from afar, but no one could say for certain. Until the gates reopened, the contents of the conversation between the king and a hero from 700 years past would remain a mystery.
Francis II chose not to host a tedious banquet or hold an audience in the main hall. Instead, he agreed to meet Gawain in the Oak Hall, adjacent to the council chamber, as Gawain had requested. Oak Hall was ancient, dating back to the initial construction of Silver Castle. In those early days, it had been a modest fortress, and the name "Silver" referred only to King Charlie I's lack of imagination.
The room held a round oak table, with the king seated at the "Crown" position on a star chart embedded in the table. Beside him sat his chief minister, Aiden, a middle-aged man with thinning hair and a calculating look, while Duchess Victoria Wilde of the North sat on his left. On the king's right were Duke Baldwin Franklin of the West and Duke Silas Lauren of the East. A few additional noble representatives sat around the table, though Gawain didn't care enough to remember their names. Royal advisors filled a line of seats behind the king.
Gawain, seated opposite Francis II, was accompanied by only Rebecca. Amber and Knight Byron, of course, were left behind at the manor on Crown Street. Gawain never considered bringing Amber to Silver Castle; given her kleptomanic tendencies, she would likely have tried to scrape the silver off the castle walls.
Apart from the chief minister and a handful of advisors, everyone present was a descendant of the kingdom's original founders—a circle made all the more significant by Gawain's own attendance as a literal founder.
As the ancient hero, Gawain had no need to bow to anyone in the room. He sat down without ceremony, while Rebecca, visibly nervous, clenched her fists tightly and took several deep breaths before taking her seat. In her tension, she even forgot that she was technically supposed to bow to the king, though no one was going to point it out. Bringing her ancestor to the meeting had its advantages.
The moment Gawain entered in his ducal attire, bearing the Sword of the Pioneer at his side, every eye turned to him. Even after he sat, many gazes lingered in a less-than-courteous manner, understandable given the surreal sight of a figure from seven centuries past.
Across the table, the elderly king rose to his feet. His hair was silver, and his posture bent with age, yet he radiated a dignified aura. He led the three dukes in rising, prompting the other nobles to follow suit.
With a solemn tone, Francis II began, "May the gods bless Ansu, for today we have the rare honor of welcoming a hero from the founding years, one who sacrificed so much for humanity's survival. This land, and all who dwell upon it, will forever be grateful to those like you, the brave pioneers."
The king bent in a deep bow, followed by every descendant of the founding heroes, including the three dukes.
This gesture, a formal acknowledgment, indicated that Francis II accepted the reality of Gawain Cecil's resurrection.
The sight of a king bowing to a duke raised no eyebrows here. After all, this was no ordinary duke but a legend. Every year, most of the nobles present paid homage to Gawain's portrait and the memorials of the other pioneers, so bowing to the actual man felt only natural.
Still, Gawain couldn't resist a wry comment, his expression tinged with amusement. "The last time I received this many bows, I was lying in a coffin."
An uncomfortable silence fell over the room.
Thankfully, everyone present was adept at handling even the strangest situations. After a moment, they composed themselves, and the king straightened with a faint smile. "It is a customary gesture of respect from the younger generation to their elders."
Gawain chuckled in response, appearing every bit the elder despite looking generations younger than Francis. "Though I suppose there's quite the age difference here, I must say that expression you just made reminded me of Charlie himself."
With this statement, Gawain affirmed the legitimacy of Francis II's Moen bloodline, establishing an implicit mutual acknowledgment.
Gawain and Francis exchanged a brief smile, with the latter visibly relieved. The gathered nobles, perceptive as ever, picked up on the underlying tone of this exchange, recognizing that a certain level of understanding had likely been reached between the ancient duke and the current king.
Sitting to the king's left, the sole female duke, Victoria Wilde, seemed to frown slightly. At least, it looked like a frown, though her expression hardly shifted. As the only female duke among the three, her mere presence warranted a second glance from Gawain.
Victoria was around thirty, exuding a composed beauty similar to Heidi's but far colder and more indifferent. She wore a long white gown with a silver fox fur shawl over her shoulders, along with white silk gloves and a head of silver curls. Her snowy elegance made her look almost like an ice queen, her presence radiating a chilly brightness—white, after all, reflects the most light. Gawain noted with amusement that Francis II's left side appeared noticeably brighter than his right.
This was the current Duchess of the North, Victoria Wilde, a name Gawain recalled from his recently studied reports. The Wilde family had once supported the elevation of a royal bastard to the throne, marking the beginnings of the Second Dynasty. It appeared, however, that the current king was no longer entirely under their influence.
Noticing Gawain's gaze, the "Ice Duchess" gave a stiff nod, possibly her version of a greeting. Gawain acknowledged her with a wave. "Just like your ancestor—a stoic to the bone. I told Wilde back then he should marry a lively southern girl to offset that gloomy look of his, but he didn't listen. Now his expression's been passed down to his descendants…"
Duchess Victoria's face twitched slightly. Gawain then shifted his attention to the Western and Eastern dukes, casually exchanging remarks about their ancestors. Finally, his gaze rested on the empty spot between the chief minister and Victoria, where there was no chair.
That seat once belonged to the Cecil family. A century ago, it had been removed, leaving only three grand dukes in the kingdom. Since then, the Southern Territory had fallen under direct royal control, its governance passed to royal-appointed officials. The Cecil family was left to govern a far-flung frontier.
Noticing Gawain's gaze on the empty space, the assembled nobles held their breath, the atmosphere growing tense as the conversation drifted toward more serious topics.
However, Gawain merely glanced at the spot, then turned back with a relaxed, almost dismissive smile, looking at the king. "Let's get to the main issue. My descendant, Rebecca Cecil, will now brief you all on the disaster that recently struck the southern lands. That, gentlemen and lady, is the real problem at hand."