After a long confrontation and silence, all of Gawain's thoughts ultimately turned into a long sigh.
"I want to say that you could have had a better way, but the course of history never cares about any 'better way,'" he said, nodding lightly as he looked at the phantom before him. "The facts have also proved that your decision back then has brought about a relatively more hopeful situation. There may have been some variables along the way, but I have now successfully reunited the scattered descendants of Gondor. And in the process, I found a way to resist divine disasters and the Magic Tide—we are preparing to face the final challenge. Mortals do not hold certain victory, but this time, we are better prepared than in any previous era of civilization."
"This is already the best outcome we ever envisioned," Gawain Cecil, seated across from him, said with a smile. "Charlie should be comforted to know this as well."
Gawain froze for a moment, then realized what he meant. "Charlie knew about this too?"
"How could he not? He was the king, and I guarded the frontier for him—without the king's tacit approval and support, how could a duke guarding the southern border suddenly have the freedom to lead a shipful of people out to sea, then drift at sea without a word for more than half a year?" Gawain Cecil smiled. "And if my guess is correct, after I 'died,' there should have been countless legends about me left in this world, true and false, tangled and confused. Countless poems and contradictory historical records would bury my life beneath layers of mist, while that voyage of mine would vanish completely from history... All of this was meant to allow an Ancient Hero shrouded in mystery to return from