Edmund Moen left with a smile. This negotiation had evidently been quite satisfactory for him. However, the prince politely declined Gawain's invitation to stay for dinner—he said he needed to return to Silver Castle as soon as possible, as the old king was still waiting for his good news.
Only after Edmund had left did Rebecca offer her assessment. "He seemed like a very nice person—I thought the heir to the throne would be especially difficult to deal with, with all those courtly rules and things..."
"That was because he was facing an elder from seven hundred years ago, rather than an impoverished border viscount," Gawain said, glancing at Rebecca. "Did you think the way he acted here was how he normally behaved? On the contrary, it was precisely because his behavior so perfectly matched my preferred manner of conversation that I could be certain he had done his homework before coming."
Rebecca blinked. "Huh?"
After thinking for a moment, Gawain explained, "The essence of negotiation, no matter how much you summarize it, is simply saying the right thing to the right person. He began by visiting a 'noble patriarch' of extremely high seniority in the capacity of a prince, showing just the right amount of courtesy, maturity, and steadiness. Then, after noticing my manner of speech and attitude, he immediately became relaxed and humorous as well. That made me more willing to speak with him. That takes considerable skill."
Rebecca scratched her head. "...Huh?"
Gawain sighed. "...You should just go study the four ways to cast a Fireball Spell."
No matter how single-minded Rebecca was, she could still sense Gawain's profound helplessness at that moment. She immediately grew a little nervous. "Ancestor, am I... just too stupid when it comes to this?"
"Everyone has their own strengths. Your talents aren't in this area, so there's no need to force it," Gawain said, patting Rebecca on the head. Being tall really lets you do whatever you want. "And honestly, I don't particularly like these scheming techniques either. I still prefer those days when a group of people cast life and death aside and simply buried their heads in the work of carving out a path to survival through the wilderness..."
Rebecca nodded as though she understood, then asked curiously, "By the way, Ancestor, was everything you said earlier true?"
Gawain looked at her. "What do you mean?"
Rebecca asked very seriously, "Did you really give one kind of red wine more than thirty different names back then, with a sonnet for every name?"
Gawain sighed. "Of course it was true."
"That sounds amazing!"
"But it was actually because we were poor. At the time, the pioneer party hadn't even reached the Holy Spirit Plain yet. Before we found a grain-producing region, even filling our stomachs was difficult. We gave one wine more than thirty names because we only had one kind of wine, and it was our last barrel. We wrote sonnets for it because we had no other entertainment. So you need to understand: nobles' complicated etiquette and rules either come from having too much to eat and nothing to do, or from being so hungry they had to come up with something to distract themselves. At their core, they're all unbearably boring things."
Rebecca's eyes sparkled. She felt as though she had gained all sorts of incredible knowledge—Aunt Heti had never taught her anything like this!
At that moment, the room's window was suddenly pushed open, and Amber jumped in from outside. She threw herself into a chair, swung her legs, and teased Gawain. "You're pretty interesting, old man! Just based on what you said, I rate you higher than every other noble!"
"Stop calling me old man. I'm in the prime of my life!" Gawain glared at Amber. "And weren't you supposed to be patrolling outside? Did you sneak in here to slack off?"
Amber swayed in the chair as if she could not sit still for even a moment. "I did patrol, but I didn't find anything, so I came in for some water. You can't possibly refuse to let me rest, can you? Besides, how can you be so sure someone will sneak in? Look at that prince—he came through the front door..."
"If a prince climbed over the wall to get in, Charlie would probably jump out of his coffin just like I did," Gawain said, his mouth twitching. "But not everyone who wants to learn something from me will come through the front door. I'm here today to wait for those people."
"Fine, fine, you're the boss now," Amber said, waving a hand. She poured herself a cup of tea and gulped it down, then stood and headed toward the window. Before jumping out, however, she turned back and casually pinched two pancakes from Gawain's refreshments. "It's cold outside. I need something to fill my stomach."
Gawain deeply regretted that the Pioneer's Sword was not in his hand.
He then looked toward his N+1-generation great-granddaughter. "Go back to your room and rest. You'll be meeting the king tomorrow, so you must face him in your best condition."
Rebecca nodded, then immediately asked, "What about you, Ancestor?"
"I'm used to staying up late, and I plan to visit the study," Gawain said. "This is more or less a return to an old place. I need to see just how much it has changed."
Rebecca obediently bid Gawain good night and left the room. Gawain remained where he was for a while before heading to the study on the second floor.
Gawain Cecil had made his name through martial prowess, but he was not some crude warrior who only knew how to wield blades and spears. In fact, he could also be considered half a scholar and herbalist, and he enjoyed reading in his spare time. Thus, Number 4 Crown Street contained not only a collection room where its owner kept weapons, armor, and trophies, but also a fairly large study.
Sitting before the desk restored by later generations, Gawain tapped lightly on its surface as he pondered. His line of sight moved between the old-fashioned bookshelves and the paintings hanging on the walls before finally returning to the desktop.
The memories that did not belong to him surged through his mind once again, giving him an inexplicable sense of familiarity with everything before him. He marveled at the painstaking efforts of later generations—they had not only restored the furniture here, but had even placed the magic-water quill pen and paper on the desk exactly where Gawain Cecil had been most accustomed to keeping them during his lifetime. This almost obsessive restoration even gave him a faint sense of dread.
It was as if someone had long known he would return and had prepared this place specifically for him.
Yet no matter how clear those memories were, they were not his own, and it was difficult for him to form any emotional connection with them. Gawain soon withdrew his gaze, left his chair, and crouched on the floor, feeling around beneath the desk.
A hidden compartment opened. His fingers touched a piece of cold metal, and after finding a pull ring on its surface, he lifted it from the compartment.
It was an exquisite little box, emitting a cool silver gleam. Even after seven hundred years, it remained as good as new.
The moment he saw the little box, Gawain breathed a sigh of relief.
It was still there.
Perhaps more than half the things in this residence were no longer the originals, but some objects could endure for more than seven hundred years, such as a small safe made of mithril.
Complex magical patterns were engraved upon the box. Aside from those patterns, a sword-and-shield emblem had been forged from refined gold and Star Iron. Beside it were elegant characters, along with the joint seals of Charles I and Gawain Cecil.
These marks and words, combined with secret orders passed down through the Moen Family—the Ansu Royal Family—could ensure that even if someone rebuilt the main structure of the house and found this little box, they would seal it away again in its original location.
But that was also because Gawain's "revival" had not come too late. Ancient secret orders and the authority of former monarchs would lose their effectiveness as time passed. Especially now that this was already the Second Dynasty, with the influence of the First Dynasty at its lowest point. If he had arrived any later, and this residence had undergone another complete renovation, no one could guarantee where this little box would end up.
Gawain solemnly placed the little box on the desk. If the most important purpose of this journey to the royal capital was the Permanent Pioneer Right, then the mithril safe before him was the second most important purpose.
He had not brought Rebecca along to find this box not because he distrusted his theoretical descendant, but because he had not been certain the box was still there. If he had mysteriously lured the girl over with an expression that said, "Your ancestor has something good to show you," only to feel around on the floor and find nothing, that would have been far too embarrassing.
Following the method in his memories, Gawain infused magic power into the magical patterns on the box's surface. He then smeared a drop of his blood onto the emblem at the center of its lid. Crisp mechanical sounds immediately came from within the small magical device, and its lid popped open slightly.
There were very few items inside. Aside from several crystals that had already lost their magic power and could only serve as decorations, there was only a palm-sized Platinum Disc. Gawain set the crystals aside for the moment and picked up the disc to examine it.
Its surface was likewise engraved with complex magical patterns, but besides those patterns, there were characters that seemed to float above the disc and tremble faintly without pause. They were seals used to communicate with the elements.
"Good. Now I have the key..."
Gawain muttered softly, stuffing both the crystals and the disc into his clothes. But just as he stood up, a faint breeze suddenly brushed past his ear.
He immediately grabbed a spare short sword resting beside the desk. At the same time, every muscle in his body tensed as he prepared for battle.
"With such sharp senses and reflexes, it seems you truly are yourself," a young woman's voice came from outside the window. Only then did Gawain notice that the study window had somehow been opened. A woman wearing a veil and a purple gown had appeared out of thin air, walking through the air toward the window. "Please relax. If people like us were to fight, I'm afraid half the city would be alarmed..."
Before she could finish speaking, a swift black shadow suddenly darted down from the roof, accompanied by Amber's loud shout. "Thief! I finally caught you—ah!"
Amber, a master of Shadow Affinity and a freakishly talented individual who had maxed out stealth and Shadow Step, was nevertheless sent flying with a casual flick from the mysterious woman because her frontal combat power was only one and a half geese.
The mysterious woman seemed startled as well. After sending Amber flying, she had not yet recovered her senses. "What... was that just now?"
Gawain gripped his short sword without relaxing his guard. "If I'm not mistaken, that was my guard."
"Ah, my apologies," the mysterious woman hurriedly said. Her attitude was unexpectedly courteous. She glanced toward where Amber had fallen, then turned back to explain, "She suddenly rushed out, so I attacked on instinct. But don't worry, she's fine. At most, she'll be a little dizzy for a while."
Gawain relaxed slightly, but his attitude did not ease in the slightest. "Who exactly are you?"
"My apologies. It seems my entrance was not very well considered," the mysterious woman said. Standing on the windowsill, she gave a polite bow. "The Mithril Treasury sends you its greetings. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am your VIP representative, Melita Pernia. All of your deposits in the Holy Silver Treasury are under my care."
Gawain frowned. "My Little Pony?"
Before you continue