Another hour passed, and the team continued navigating the endlessly sprawling hallways and corridors. The sheer scale of this thousand-year-old facility had surpassed even Gawain's expectations. Even during Gondor's golden "Sparking Era," it was rare for the empire to construct facilities of such a massive scale. This place seemed to have been hewn from the core of a mountain, and as they encountered more and more ramps and stairs leading downward, Gawain began to suspect that it wasn't just a single mountain they'd hollowed out.
The mana signal was still there, weak but consistent. Due to the excessive branching paths and corridors, Herty's guidance had become less reliable. She could only determine a general direction and had to rely on spirit-summoning or divination spells to help decide which path to take. Despite these aids, they ended up retracing their steps several times, encountering dead-ends frequently.
Knight Byron diligently marked their trail, with Herty using mana to etch signs along the way. But after such a long trek, even the soldiers were starting to feel anxious. Noticing this, Byron approached Gawain. "Sir, if we keep going further, we may end up lost in here. Everyone's sense of direction has completely vanished."
Gawain frowned, having also considered the possibility of getting lost. However, he had more confidence than most due to his nearly photographic memory. He had mentally mapped out nearly every branching path and detail along the way, forming a crude mental map. But sharing this wouldn't necessarily ease the minds of his companions; after all, the place was simply too vast.
"If only Amber were here… At least we could throw her ahead to scout, and she'd know her way around, darting through shadows, unlocking doors. She's proven that in Cecil's family crypt." This time, Gawain wasn't joking. But without Amber around, he could only shake his head. "You have a point. We'll continue a bit longer, make a few more marks, and then, whether we find anything or not, we'll turn back and come again another time."
Though he didn't order an immediate return, Gawain's words gave the soldiers some sense of relief, as if they'd received a form of reassurance. The team mustered their courage and continued onward.
After descending another staircase, they entered yet another hall. This one contained more features than before: several enormous obsidian blocks arranged neatly around the perimeter, almost like stone monuments lined up against the walls. Each block had metal conduits or "tracks" extending from its base, all converging toward a strange, hemispherical device at the hall's center.
Gawain frowned and ran his gloved hand over the hemispherical device, brushing off layers of soot and oxidization to reveal the silver-white metal beneath.
"What is this?" Herty's curiosity drew her closer. The fixtures in this room appeared to be "fixed installations," something rare in these ruins. The obsidian and metal connections gave her an odd sense that they might be mana-related.
"A mana-focusing array… though I'd call it a 'mana capacitor,'" Gawain murmured, throwing in a few more esoteric terms from forgotten knowledge. "These obsidian blocks connect to a mana well in the facility, and this hemisphere focuses the power, creating an intense, short-lived energy flow. It's channeled through this main conduit." He pointed to a large conduit that extended from the device, disappearing into the wall. "The energy is then sent to wherever it's needed."
Herty's eyes widened in excitement. As a mage, encountering such an ancient magical device sparked her enthusiasm. "It focuses massive energy… So it's a weapon?"
"No, it's an auxiliary power source for research facilities, mainly used to 'ignite' high-energy equipment like prism lenses." Gawain shrugged. "In Gondor's time, mana wasn't only for warfare—it served countless other purposes. Honestly, I believe mages should dedicate their knowledge and magic to such research."
"Research…" Herty murmured in amazement. The term was familiar; mages were often synonymous with researchers, delving into the mysteries of magic and decoding rune patterns. Yet, for most, the ultimate purpose of any research was to enhance spellcasting abilities. A mage who couldn't strengthen their magic was regarded as a second-rate researcher.
Instinctively, Herty sensed that Gawain's concept of "research" differed from her own. Her ancestor seemed to view things from a distant, broad perspective, frequently mentioning "accessibility" and "mass production." His vision was vastly different from the mage culture of individual study and isolation.
She shook her head, clearing away irrelevant thoughts, and heard Byron ask, "Madam, is the mana signal coming from here?"
Herty concentrated for a moment, then shook her head. "No, but it's close."
"Mark this spot…" Gawain directed. "This ancient device is long defunct and doesn't need restoration, but it could yield at least half a ton of mithril, seven or eight tons of obsidian, and a large quantity of adamantine and purple steel."
"Wait…" Herty's eyes widened. "Ancestor… You're planning to dismantle this priceless ancient magic device?!"
"What else?" Gawain looked at her calmly. "This thing needs ultra-pure mana to even activate, and the purification technology for mana is long gone. Even if we had the power, it's been sitting here for a thousand years; its internal structure has likely decayed beyond repair. Fixing it would be harder than building a new one."
Herty paused, her expression conflicted. "You may not feel it since you're from seven hundred years ago, but this is an antique…"
Gawain's face twitched. "It was an antique even before I died. But let's think practically. Sitting here, it's worthless; it needs to be melted down to gain new life."
Realizing she couldn't sway him, Herty reluctantly nodded, feeling a pang in her heart. It was said that descendants didn't feel the pain of selling ancestral land, but it seemed even the ancestor himself wasn't particularly bothered about selling it.
Finding the mana-focusing device suggested that they were near the core research facility. Given the mana signal Herty had previously detected, the source was likely some ancient research apparatus still operating.
Gawain quietly activated his knightly "Danger Sense" skill, staying alert for any possible magical traps or ancient radiation.
As they proceeded, he casually asked Herty, "By the way, I noticed they address you as 'Madam' rather than 'Miss' or 'Lady.' Are you married? Where's your husband?"
This question had been on his mind for a while, but he hadn't had the chance to ask.
Herty blinked in surprise, though it was natural for an ancestor to be curious about her marriage. "I'm not married. When I came of age, I pledged myself to the goddess of magic, Myrmirna, relinquishing my inheritance rights so Rebecca's father could inherit. According to noble law, a woman who formally renounces her inheritance for faith is considered 'married'—to her faith. I could have kept my noble title and become a baroness without inheritance, but during those difficult times, I… sold the title to a merchant…"
Gawain nodded. "Oh," he replied, filing away this information about the goddess Myrmirna.
The goddess of magic, Myrmirna, also known as the Mistress of Mysteries, was believed to govern all magical forces. Legend held that she was the mentor to the first dragon and elf, the originator of draconic and elven magic. Unlike other deities, Myrmirna wasn't a "god of devout faith" but more of a "symbolic god." She lacked an official religion, and almost all spellcasters were "mild believers" of hers. Yet less than one percent of mages became her formal disciples, likely because mages were generally more interested in discovering mysteries than revering a god.
Among that one percent, many, like Herty, became disciples for pragmatic reasons, such as renouncing inheritance rights.
Princess Veronica of Ansu's royal family, for instance, had similarly pledged herself to the god of holy light. Unlike Herty, however, Princess Veronica's lineage was prestigious enough that she hadn't needed to sell her noble title for survival; hence, she still held her title (or its equivalent in her faith).
After her response, Herty felt a slight unease. She was mainly worried about two things: first, that the Cecil family's downfall and her selling of a noble title might disappoint her ancestor; and second, that her unmarried status might also displease him. Especially the latter—what if Gawain started nagging her about marriage with questions like "Why aren't you married? When are you getting married? What about him?"
Oh dear, ancestral nagging—this was even more stressful than parental nagging!
Oddly enough, the thought of a seven-hundred-year-old ancestor pushing her to marry was more distressing than the noble title issue…
But it turned out Gawain's question had merely been a casual one. He uttered "Oh" and moved on.
Herty's daydreaming didn't last long, though. She'd finally sensed the mana signal just ahead.