Journey to the Royal Capital

Those who escaped the nightmare in Cecil Territory were fortunate, yet unfortunate.

The blazing houses, the land corrupted by Elemental Power, the terrifying giant striding out of the chaotic fog, and the friends and family who had died horribly beneath it all—everything clung to every survivor like a nightmare. Even after reaching the safety of Tanzan Town, even under the protection of knights and soldiers, fear had never faded from the survivors' hearts for even a moment.

Because even among the armored soldiers, few had managed a peaceful night's sleep these past days.

Many had no choice but to numb themselves with alcohol. Those poor people who could not even afford to drink themselves senseless could only suffer, and as refugees in this era who had ended up on another lord's land, they were naturally unable to expect decent living conditions. The situation only worsened.

Forget maintaining order among the refugees—Knight Philip was now struggling even to keep the soldiers organized and have them report in on time every day.

Fortunately, their lord had returned safely, and she had brought back an unexpectedly powerful pillar of support.

Outside Tanzan Town, Rebecca looked at the gathered people of her territory. They were ragged and haggard. Although Viscount Andrew had indeed provided basic shelter and food, the charity nobles extended to commoners in this era was extremely limited. The fact that these people had not frozen or starved to death was already proof of the viscount's exceptional kindness, far beyond that of his peers. Rebecca could not ask for much more.

And for those who had fled Cecil Territory, the appearance of their lord was a sufficiently effective tonic for the heart.

The commoners of this era did not possess much awareness or mental resilience, nor did they have much loyalty toward their lord. Although Rebecca could be considered a kind and friendly lord—mainly because the young girl was not very sharp and had yet to learn the cunning greed of her noble peers—she had held her position for less than a year. Given the poor flow of information, many of her people did not even know what their lord looked like.

Yet the lord's appearance was still encouraging. For these pitiful people who had lived in fear for days, it was enough for someone to step forward and declare that she would continue protecting them. They did not care who their master was, nor what she looked like. Centuries of feudal rule had robbed commoners of much of their ability to think, but it had also made them remarkably easy to satisfy. In Gawain's view, it was a cohesion founded on ignorance and foolishness—but it was undeniably effective.

Only a small portion of the people had come to see them off. More remained in Tanzan Town, guarding belongings or working in exchange for food for everyone. Rebecca looked over the crowd and wanted to say a few words, but she truly did not know what to say. So she turned to Knight Philip. "These people will still have to rely on you, Knight. Until we return, do your best to make sure not a single one is lost."

"I swear it by my oath, my lady!" Philip straightened his chest. "I will protect every subject and every scrap of property belonging to the Cecil Family for you!"

"Don't forget the task I assigned you, either," Gawain said. "Viscount Andrew will provide the necessary assistance. Just send out all those who are nimble on their feet and quick in the head—do not be stingy with money. What they are going to do is far more valuable than money."

"Yes!" the young knight replied loudly, though he could not conceal his confusion. As a man living in a secluded age and specializing in martial skill, it was difficult for him to keep up with Gawain's thinking. "But are those things really that important?"

"Of course they are." Gawain smiled. "On a small scale, they are called rumors. On a larger scale, they are called the effect of public opinion. Do not underestimate these invisible forces. Once everyone starts talking about the same thing, even the king will be unable to sit still."

After making the arrangements, Gawain and Rebecca boarded the carriage provided by Viscount Andrew. Traveling with them were Betty, serving as a maid, the fiercely loyal Knight Byron, the super-thief Amber, and twelve family soldiers. These soldiers could not exactly be called carefully selected, because there had only been a dozen or so warriors who broke out with Knight Philip, plus the two who had escaped with Gawain's group. Even at the fullest count, there were fewer than twenty. Under such circumstances, gathering twelve fully equipped soldiers was practically the last shred of face left to the Cecil Family.

The mature and steady Heti remained behind to maintain the situation here, but "Aunt Heti" was clearly deeply worried about her niece's upcoming journey to the royal capital. Standing beneath the carriage, she grasped Rebecca's hand and repeatedly instructed her, "Remember your status. Do not disgrace the Cecil Family, but do not clash with the nobles of the royal capital either. Be respectful when meeting the king, and do not break the rules. Do not throw fireballs at people—the royal capital is not like our countryside. If you encounter something you do not understand, do not rush to answer. Discuss it with your ancestor or Knight Byron, because every word you say will be interpreted over and over. Most importantly, you must listen to your ancestor, especially when dealing with nobles. You are not good at that sort of thing, but your ancestor is a grand duke. He understands..."

Listening to Heti's instructions, Gawain's heart grew heavy as well, because he truly did not understand...

Not only did he not understand, but the genuine Gawain Cecil had not understood either. When that Founding Hero died, Ansu had still been governed by a bunch of mud-legged peasants. The court etiquette back then had basically revolved around drinking contests and trading insults with the king in the throne room. Seven hundred years later, things were probably different...

But to avoid driving his already overwrought many-times-over great-granddaughter completely mad, he still placed a hand on Heti's shoulder and gave her a reassuring look. "Don't worry. I understand it all."

And so, amid Heti's relieved smile, the carriage carried Rebecca, who understood nothing, and Gawain, who looked as if he understood everything, onto the road to the royal capital.

At the same time, Knight Philip also sent people out according to Gawain's arrangements before his departure.

They were clever people selected from among the territory's residents, along with nimble-footed, silver-tongued individuals hired locally in Tanzan Town. There were even a few thugs and scoundrels who could be bought with a handful of copper coins. The young knight found dealing with such people particularly uncomfortable, and the task assigned to them seemed even more baffling—they only had to set off in every direction, head for every populated place, slip into taverns, black markets, and the stinking shacks of slums, then brag with the locals.

It would be even better if they could find passing bards to brag to as well.

Thus, over the following period, scenes like this frequently appeared throughout the southern region: travel-worn Outsiders with strange accents appeared wherever crowds gathered, wearing mysterious yet utterly convinced expressions as they spoke of nearly identical things:

"Hey, have you heard? Something happened to that Cecil Family down south! Their territory was destroyed by monsters and dragons! They say it even disturbed the souls of the dead underground, and the legendary ancestor of the Cecil Family rose from his coffin... You heard right! That Gawain Cecil from the legends awakened from his long sleep! He must have returned to destroy those monsters..."

"Hey! Why would I lie to you? Everyone in the south is talking about it. Go ask around Tanzan Town or Timber Town and you'll know. And do you see these clothes? I escaped from the far south myself. Let me tell you, I even saw the Cecil ancestor come back to life with my own eyes!"

Nearly everyone said the same things, and they all ended by solemnly swearing that they had seen these bizarre events with their own eyes. Even if they were not among the people originally sent out by Knight Philip, those who later spread the rumors would most likely tell the same story.

If someone could gather all the rumors in one place, he would surely be astonished to discover that when the Cecil ancestor rose from the dead, at least a thousand people had been standing in the tomb paying their respects—and another ten thousand had been gathered atop the grave outside to watch...

Yet in this era, those capable of doing such a thing would not pay attention to these stories passed among mud-legged commoners in streets and alleys, while those who believed and spread the news... simply would not think too much about it.

Meanwhile, in the carriage heading toward Saint Suniel City, Gawain was idly watching the scenery outside while considering how he should face His Majesty the King, seated high within Silver Castle in Saint Suniel City.

He did not know how much effect the task he had given Knight Philip would have—in truth, he did not even have thirty percent confidence in it. This was a contradictory and ignorant world. The existence of magic made many things extraordinarily convenient, convenient even beyond what the age should allow, yet magic and other supernatural powers were held only by a small minority. The people of this world had not—or rather, believed there was no need to—transform magic into a broader productive force. Thus, in the lower levels of society that lacked power, everything remained unbelievably backward.

Communication relied on shouting, travel relied on walking. Rumors could spread swiftly through a town, because tavern gossip was practically the only entertainment commoners had after work. But passing news from one town to another was ten times harder, because desolate wilderness blocked most movement, and nobles everywhere controlled the movement of people within their territories. Without a lord's permission, a commoner going from the village where he lived to a neighboring lord's village to buy a chicken could risk being hanged!

The travel pass jointly signed by the Cecil Family and the Leslie Family, Viscount Andrew's family, could solve the issue of restrictions on movement, but it could not solve the other difficulties.

Still, making some effort was better than doing nothing.

Gawain's purpose was simple: he wanted the matter of "the Cecil ancestor's resurrection" spread as widely as possible. The wider, the better. It could not remain a secret known only within noble circles; it had to become hot news among commoners and even the poor. If possible, it had to spread into a bizarre tale, into a horror story—and in fact, the rumors were indeed developing in that direction.

These stories would be embellished again and again as they spread. Those superstitious and ignorant medieval people would add countless details according to their own understanding. Gawain did not care about the specific content of those details—he only wanted the stories to keep fermenting.

Then everyone would know that the ancestor of the Cecil Family had returned to life, and that the legendary Founding Grand Duke had awakened just as monsters attacked the kingdom...