Debt

Gawain had no idea what bold, punch-worthy thought Rebecca was harboring, but he knew that Viscount Andrew's protection of the Cecil Vassals would not come free of charge. The era when lords swore to defend their people to the death, when everyone watched out for one another and selflessly contributed to rebuilding civilization, had long passed. Seven hundred years later, although the Ansu Kingdom had yet to reclaim the splendor of the Gondor Era, its nobles had somehow mastered selfishness to the highest level without being taught. There was no doubt that from the day the refugees of Cecil Territory entered Tanzan Town, Rebecca had been saddled with a debt that had fallen from the sky.

Still, carrying that debt was better than everyone being dead.

"The Cecil Family will be grateful for your help," Gawain said, breaking the silence. "But what matters more right now is the disaster itself."

Viscount Andrew had noticed Gawain from the very beginning, seated between Rebecca and Heti. He was quite curious about this man, dressed in ancient noble attire, with a greatsword beside him and a solemn, imposing face. No such figure existed among the noble circles he knew—but from the respect Heti and Rebecca showed the man, he could tell that he was no ordinary person.

So when Gawain spoke, Andrew took the opportunity to ask, "Forgive my presumption, but I have been wondering this since earlier—who are you, sir?"

"The ancestor of the Cecil Family, the pioneer among pioneers, one of Ansu's Seven Generals of the Founding, Grand Duke of the Southern Border, Gawain Cecil," Heti said. She had clearly been waiting for that question and immediately rose to her feet, introducing him with a grave expression. "You must have grown up hearing that name—he is the Radiance of the Dawn."

Gawain kept a straight face and tried to look stern and imposing as he gave a slight nod in cooperation with Heti's extravagant praise. But when he heard the final title, he still could not help freezing for a moment before quietly asking Rebecca beside him, "What the hell is that last title?"

Rebecca hurriedly explained, "It was the posthumous title the Founding Ancestor gave you after you died..."

Gawain was shocked. "...Couldn't that old chuunibyou come up with a better name?!"

As for Viscount Andrew, this meticulous, orthodox nobleman's first reaction upon hearing Heti's words was utter blankness.

Had this lady finally gone mad from the enormous strain of her family's catastrophe and the fright she had suffered from the monsters?

Just as Gawain had thought from the beginning, unless they saw it with their own eyes, no one could possibly believe that the old ancestor of the Cecil Family had climbed out of his coffin. Even well-traveled nobles and highly learned mages would not believe such a fantastical tale—perhaps only illiterate commoners, their heads full of superstition, might take it as truth.

The fact that Andrew had not immediately called for attendants to feed this lady medicine after hearing Heti's words already showed considerable restraint.

"Lady, please allow me to... ah... allow me to think," Andrew said, struggling to adjust his expression. He seemed to be searching for a way to express his feelings without being overly discourteous, but in the end, he could not help speaking frankly. "I know you have endured an unimaginable nightmare, but using such a wild story to... isn't that taking things a little too far?"

Heti's expression did not change. "I knew you would react this way. In truth, even we ourselves could hardly believe any of it, but the ancestor of the Cecil Family truly has awakened from his long slumber. We saw him sit up in his coffin with our own eyes, holding the Pioneer's Sword in his hand. We have also confirmed that he was truly resurrected, rather than some trick involving an undead revival..."

Andrew wore an expression somewhere between laughter and tears. "If you have some request of me, please just say so. This..."

Gawain waved a hand, signaling Heti to sit. He placed the Pioneer's Sword on the table and turned to Viscount Andrew. "Viscount, what purpose would Heti have in telling such a lie? A viscount territory has been destroyed by monsters and an elemental tide, and a dragon has appeared in the skies over our land. An incident of this scale is enough to alarm His Majesty in the royal capital directly. In a life-or-death situation like this, would we really dress someone in ancient costume, hand him a shoddy old sword, and send him to your castle to tell you a fantastical story just for amusement?"

As he spoke, he channeled the magic within him into the Pioneer's Sword. With the infusion of magic, dark red patterns once more emerged across the ancient blade. This time, the patterns were clearer, forming near the hilt an emblem of a sharp blade crossed with an iron plow—that was the crest the Cecil Family had established on the day Ansu was founded, a family emblem representing the years of pioneering.

Knights possessed magic as well; they simply used it in a completely different manner from mages.

Although the Pioneer's Sword had lost most of its former power, its most basic identifying features remained. The moment Andrew saw the sword, he was stunned. He had never seen the real Pioneer's Sword, but a replica was enshrined in the Royal Cathedral of the capital. He had been fortunate enough to see that replica years ago, so he could not possibly mistake it.

If the sword on the table was not a counterfeit made by the Cecil Family, then it could only be genuine—the real artifact sealed within the Cecil Family cemetery, the one no one had dared covet even after the family fell into decline.

Would this fallen family dig up their ancestor's grave, unearth the Holy Sword, and then use it to tell an outrageous lie?

Andrew began to hesitate. If this truly was a farce, then its cost was terrifyingly high—but if it was not a farce...

An old ancestor suddenly crawling out of his grave after being dead for seven hundred years—no one would fucking dare believe that!!

"You can find elven craftsmen to determine whether this sword is real. Their people forged it back then, and they know how to inspect elven sigils. You can also take out the portraits of the founding princes and compare them with me. Though I slept for seven hundred years, fortunately my appearance has not changed much," Gawain said with a faint smile as he watched Andrew's shifting expression. "If possible, you could also see whether any elven mercenaries who took part in the Second Expansion have retired into the mountains. Perhaps some of them still know me."

"No, that will not be necessary." Viscount Andrew waved a hand and rubbed his brow, finding the events before him truly outside his area of expertise. "Since you are a legendary hero such as yourself... perhaps sleeping for seven hundred years and then being resurrected is possible after all."

Though he said that, anyone could see at a glance that the viscount still did not truly believe Gawain's identity. He was merely using this excuse to temporarily end the discussion while half believing and half doubting.

He had already figured it out—what did it have to do with him if the old ancestor of the Cecil Family had jumped out of his coffin? Why bother dwelling on whether it was true or false? Since the Cecils said it was true, then he would treat it as true.

After all, he was merely an ancient man who had already been dead for seven hundred years.

Having thought that through, Viscount Andrew seemed to belatedly realize one detail Gawain had just mentioned. "Wait, did you just say... there is a dragon nearby?!"

"That's right. A blue dragon. I don't know where it flew in from, but it eventually headed northwest..." Gawain nodded, then proceeded to tell him everything that had happened in Cecil Territory. "...That is what happened."

"Aberrations... monsters from the time of the Magic Tide... and a dragon... my heavens..." Viscount Andrew's brows seemed to knot together, and even the flush on his pale face faded away. "What in the world is happening to this world..."

"What happens to the world is for scholars and His Majesty to consider. What we need to do is get word of what happened here to Saint Suniel City as quickly as possible," Heti interrupted Andrew. "This is already very serious."

"I have already dispatched a messenger to report that Cecil Territory was attacked," Viscount Andrew said. "The messenger left on a fast horse and should be halfway there by now."

It seemed that Viscount Andrew was quite capable of handling practical matters. Not only had he taken in refugees from a neighboring territory, but he had also sent a messenger to report to the king at once. Among frontier nobles in this era, that already counted as excellent. Yet Heti had no choice but to make a further request. "Viscount Andrew, that is not enough—this situation is serious enough that Rebecca must personally meet with His Majesty. And Grand Duke Cecil, having awakened from his long slumber, must also travel to the royal capital. We are deeply grateful for the Cecil Family's help, but we still need more assistance."

Upon hearing Heti's words, Andrew lowered his eyelids slightly as if thinking. Then he rose to his feet and paced back and forth before the long table with his hands behind his back.

"What do you all need? Fast horses? Supplies? Guards?"

"We need all of it," Rebecca said, gathering her courage. "And we also need to ask you to continue looking after the people of Cecil Territory for a while—until we return from the royal capital and have new land to settle them on..."

"That is the crux of the matter." Viscount Andrew raised a hand, interrupting Rebecca. "In fact, I was just about to address this. I have already done my utmost to help my neighbors, and I am more than willing to be generous, but I am merely a viscount. How much can I possibly provide to feed all those refugees?"

Gawain picked up the tea before him, which had already gone somewhat cold, and took a sip. So the viscount had finally gotten to the real business.

Rebecca said somewhat anxiously, "Knight Philip brought a batch of gold and silver when he broke through. That gold and silver should be enough..."

"Of course, I know about that gold and silver," Viscount Andrew interrupted Rebecca again. "Please rest assured, I am not one to take advantage of another's misfortune. But medicine and food both have costs. I said this earlier, did I not? When that brave knight arrived in Tanzan Town, he was covered in wounds. The soldiers and commoners he brought with him were nearly all injured as well. To treat them, I used the finest medicines in my territory and hired the best priests. All of that costs money. That gold and silver was only barely enough."

Rebecca's eyes widened.

"Of course, I must emphasize again that I will not take advantage of your misfortune," Viscount Andrew continued. "So I will continue sheltering those refugees and provide you with as much assistance as I can. I merely wish to confirm one thing—after I have done all this, will the Cecil Family still have the means to repay this debt?"