Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 706 - 705: Long Time No See

Bard Wendell didn’t know where he had been taken—though it wasn’t because he was blindfolded or transferred in a state of unconsciousness. In fact, the soldiers and officials responsible for escorting him didn’t prohibit him from looking around the whole way. He couldn’t make sense of his whereabouts or destination, simply because everything he saw on the way exceeded his recognition and imagination.

Such a prosperous and orderly city, a city with such unique style and vitality—he once thought that Rocky Ridges Town near the Plains of the Holy Spirits was already an astonishing large city. But now he realized why the warden kept saying that Rocky Ridges Town was just a rapidly developing frontier market, and the true prosperity of the southern borders was further south—

Cecil Castle, the miraculous city under the Dark Mountain Range, no wonder the Arcanist who lived with him suggested coming here for a visit after sobering up.

Bard found it hard to imagine how the land of pioneers, which was barren four years ago, developed into this—perhaps judging from historical heritage and the number of complex classical buildings (such buildings often require longer construction time, and older cities usually have more of them), the city might seem too young, but its prosperity and vitality were unparalleled in the experience of this former General of the Typhon Empire.

He recalled the southern borders when he hastily retreated due to a mission failure in the past—back then, it was nothing like this.

Magically powered mechanical vehicles smoothly glided over broad and tidy roads. Every so often, crystals floating mid-air powering city facilities were visible along the road, and holographic projections flickered at intersections and squares. The content of the holographic projections changed constantly, bringing news and scenes from distant regions to the doorstep as if in an instant. Energetic pedestrians greeted each other along the road, showing no signs of weariness or distress despite the steadily cooling weather.

Fully armed escorting soldiers sat nearby, merely monitoring Bard’s actions without stopping this special "Transcendent criminal" from gawking along the way. It wasn’t until they approached the city center that Bard suddenly broke the silence: "...I heard that during the Plains of the Holy Spirits war, this city created in a month what used to take the whole kingdoms a year to consume in steel weapon, which got sent to the front lines..."

The soldier glanced at Bard. Although unsure why this prisoner suddenly mentioned this, he nodded with pride: "That’s correct, but that’s just part of what was mentioned in the newspapers—in fact, the battlefield of the Plains of the Holy Spirits lasted far more than a month, and the factories transformed not just steel."

"...Yeah, so there was also this way..."

Bard let out a mixed sigh, seemingly perplexing, and then fell silent again, continuing to stare out the window without speaking further.

The soldier shook his head—indeed a puzzling fellow.

The vehicle passed through the avenue, crossed Pioneer Square, and was eventually guided by another squad of soldiers to stop in front of a large building.

Bard disembarked silently and obediently.

Ever since he was suddenly brought out of the prison and boarded a strange armored magically powered vehicle escorted by soldiers, he had faintly guessed who wanted to see him—and over this fate’s arrangement, he had long lost any thoughts of resistance.

The soldiers were meticulous and responsible. Despite Bard’s utmost cooperation, they executed the handover and escort procedures thoroughly, leading Bard into the building, as the former General of the Typhon Empire and a member of the evil cult, Bard internally calculated this entire process, concluding that even if he had thoughts of escaping, he probably wouldn’t manage a hundred meters alive—

Every soldier here had a magical surge; those magic supplies that once grievously injured him were their basic equipment. Not to mention there might be countless hidden magic mechanisms and monitoring devices here, just like the time he burned a newspaper in a pub, which attracted an entire squad of public security officers. In a facility that seemed this important, similar monitoring devices would only be more numerous.

And yet these soldiers were all merely ordinary humans.

Bard lowered his head and walked forward, led by the guiding soldier.

But over ninety percent of people in this world... are ordinary humans.

The soldier stopped before a door, nodded to the attendant guarding it, then pushed Bard’s shoulder forward: "Once you enter, remain respectful—good luck."

Inside the room, Gawain saw a long-lost face appear in front of him—although they had only met a few years ago, in his enhanced memory, this face’s past appearance remained very clear.

Compared to a few years ago, this face had clearly withered a lot. Beard and hair were unkempt, and the eyes no longer held the pride and confidence of the past, whether the sinister aura as an evil cult follower or the sharpness once possessed by the Wolf General seemed completely vanished.

But as Bard walked to the center of the room, facing Gawain’s gaze head-on, that pair of desolate eyes did have some change.

His eyes regained some spirit, then he stood straight with effort, adjusted his gray prisoner’s attire, and bowed slightly: "I salute you, His Majesty Gawain Cecil."

His attitude was akin to that of a captured general facing the ruler of another nation.

This truly was ironic, he thought—years ago, he had resolutely abandoned his honor and chose to dedicate himself to a grand yet dark endeavor. Yet today, in the depths of despair, he had actually managed to stand tall.

"We meet again, Mr. Bard Wendell," Gawain looked at the other calmly, neither immediately condemning nor ridiculing, "Oblivion Association priest, Typhon Empire’s supposed-dead dissident Wolf General... I really didn’t expect that all this time you were right under my nose."

Wolf General... upon hearing this abandoned title, Bard’s eyes remained tranquil as he glanced at Gawain: "It seems you’ve investigated a lot about me."

"I just happened to have some channels," Gawain smiled, "When I first heard there was a strange prisoner leisurely residing in Rocky Ridges Town’s jail, consuming without leaving, I truly had no idea it would be you... until your name appeared in the report and I couldn’t help but marvel at fate’s arrangements."

"I also didn’t expect to see you again under such circumstances," Bard slightly furrowed his brows, "So since you’ve uncovered this... it seems my days of comfort have come to an end."

"As a priest of the Oblivion Association, you’ve committed innumerable crimes, but honestly, I’m not here to judge you today," Gawain gazed into Bard Wendell’s eyes. "Cecil respects law and justice. When you were last here, Cecil hadn’t yet ruled over the southern borders. I can’t judge past crimes with today’s law, but for what you did in Leslie territory, there are others qualified to pass judgment."

Bard was taken aback, and just as he was stunned, another door on the side of the room opened.

A tall, thin middle-aged man with a slightly pale complexion, holding a decorative cane, wearing a deep blue coat, came out of that door.

Viscount Andrew Leslie, former leader of Leslie territory, today’s governor of Tanzan City.

Bard fixed his gaze on the man walking towards him. Compared to his memories, Viscount Andrew today not only didn’t appear weakened by the passing years but seemed more spirited. The paleness of his face seemed less sickly and looked more like a normal skin tone — it appears that the new life greatly improved the health of this "aristocratic leader."

Andrew Leslie hadn’t consumed any harmful Magic Potions for nearly two years.

Building and managing a thriving new city, watching the land prosper under his governance, was even happier than he had imagined.

"Viscount Andrew," after a few seconds of eye contact, Bard finally spoke to break the silence, "You look well."

Andrew’s deep-set eyes seemed to have a flicker of flame. He fixed his gaze on the person in front of him and slowly raised his cane, pressing it against Bard’s chest. "You still remember what you did in Tanzan Town, don’t you?"

"Vividly."

"My daughter still struggles to socialize normally to this day. In your evil ritual, one-third of those who survived still can’t return to normal life," Andrew pressed harder with his cane, as if trying to turn it into a sword to pierce Bard’s body, "Not to mention those who didn’t survive... Do you have anything else to say?"

Bard stood still, not flinching, "Hanging or beheading is fine, or you can sentence me to be burnt as befits an evil cult follower. My only request is that my name not be made public afterward—if this request is unreasonable, then fill my skull with lead, should there be anything left after burning."

In the customs of Typhon’s northern and eastern peoples, filling the skull with lead has special meaning, implying that all the sins of the deceased remain with the deceased, not to be redeemed or forgiven, nor to be passed on to any relatives or one’s own clan.

In Anzu (Cecil), there is a similar saying, though the northern kingdoms’ method is to nail a pin into the deceased’s skull, but regardless of the method, the premise is that it must be requested by the deceased before death for it to be effective—it’s a reflection of humanity’s concept of "soul inheritance" about life and death.

Viscount Andrew stared into Bard’s eyes, "I thought you’d at least offer some defense—about the restraint you showed at that time, or perhaps stress that you were beguiled by evil cult ideologies."

"If one can escape punishment for crimes by offering some excuse or seemingly reasonable justifications, then all the gallows of the world might as well be dismantled," Bard replied calmly. "You can sentence me to death, or choose to forgive, that’s your authority, but as for myself... I have nothing more to say."

The room fell silent for a moment; Viscount Andrew stared at Bard for a long time before suddenly curling his lips into a smile and slowly lowering his cane, "To think you now have some humanity, what’s this? Seeing through life?"

"Humanity... I’ve had it all along," Bard slowly closed his eyes, "It’s just... for a time I believed that great cause was worth abandoning my humanity and morals."

"Any cause that requires abandoning humanity and morals doesn’t deserve to be called ’great,’ it’s just a collective frenzy created by a bunch of madmen indulging in their own delusions," Viscount Andrew interrupted Bard, quoting Gawain’s words from a recent newspaper criticizing evil cult followers. He then paused, and under Bard’s astonished gaze, slowly said, "But none of that matters now. Your farce ended in self-destruction, and you... I won’t kill you."

"You won’t kill me?" Bard looked at Viscount Andrew in astonishment, "Why?"

"Don’t misunderstand, as you said, it’s not easy for someone to cleanse themselves after committing crimes. My sparing you doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you, it’s just that you can serve a greater purpose than death."

As he spoke, Viscount Andrew turned his head to look at Gawain, who was sitting not far away, calmly observing everything, "Your Majesty, let him go. If he returns alive, perhaps it shows he shouldn’t die."

Gawain frowned, "Are you sure? We have other exploration plans; you don’t have to be influenced by this..."

"He’s a priest of the Oblivion Association, someone deserving judgment. With such a suitable candidate, why send brave soldiers to form a Daredevil Team," Viscount Andrew’s expression was firm and serious, "In the current situation, finding a second living priest of the Oblivion Association in a short time isn’t easy."

"If that’s your wish," after brief contemplation, Gawain nodded, "I approve."

Though Bard was confused about what was happening, he understood that he was being assigned a task — a task perhaps life-threatening but could be exchanged for his life.

Despite being prepared for execution, if he could avoid death, he naturally wouldn’t refuse.

"What do you want me to do?"

Gawain looked at Bard, "Go to your now uncontrollable nest."