Sword of Dawnbreaker

If there was any place in Tanzan Town that could alleviate Gawain’s disappointment and allow him to experience the classic and elegant beauty of another culture, there was only the rich district in the northern central part of the town. Several roads and a perimeter wall separated the district from the slum area outside. It was a relatively cleaner place where the ‘respectable’ people lived.

There were beautiful two storey buildings, each made of light gray stones and cedar wood. There were dried fish and cured meat drying on the balcony on the second floor. These were the symbols of the wealthy.

Although Tanzan was just a town, far from the size of a city, people who lived in the rich district would claim to be proud city residents.

They were people who were free and could afford to pay various taxes, and they had decent jobs in town, such as being the owner of farms or as a foreman in the mines.

Today, these respectable people stood on their balconies, where they dried fish and cured meats, and discussed recent events with their neighbors just like they did in the past. Anything that was slightly interesting was worth talking about. The most talked about topic was without a doubt the event that took place in Cecil territory.

Tanzan Town and its surrounding areas were lands held by Viscount Andrew, and Viscount Andrew’s territory was a neighboring territory to the Cecil’s. Although there were large desolate areas between the prosperous region of the two territories, there were still roads connecting them. Thus, even in this age of slow communication, news of what happened in Cecil territory had already been spread across the whole of Tanzan Town.

Firstly, a group of people looking like refugees fled here under the leadership of a knight and about a dozen soldiers. Then, the news was spread that Cecil territory had been completely destroyed by the flood of monsters and elementals.

This horrifying news was just like those stories spun by bards. The citizens, who lived in peace for many years, did not believe it at all initially, but those refugees and the battered soldiers had evidently entered their town. Subsequently, Viscount Andrew quickly gave out orders. Not only did he implement stricter curfew enforcement, but he also increased the number of patrols in the area around the town. Thus, the absurd horror story became a reality.

The grievous news from the Cecil territory went from being idle chatter among the city residents… to serious discussions.

At first they were only casually talking about that when they met in the taverns. Now, they had to stand at their balconies and discuss it seriously with dried fish and cured meat as the backdrop.

Just when these respectable people talked about how this was really the end of the declining Cecil Clan, those involved from the Cecil Clan had already passed through the rich district and the churches and entered Viscount Andrew’s castle.

Regardless of how difficult the life of the poor in Tanzan Town was, Viscount Andrew’s home always looked splendid. In fact, due to the populous and affluent territory and the clan’s ability to accumulate wealth, the castle built by the viscount was far more beautiful than the little old fortress Rebecca had lived in since she was a child.

After informing the guards of their identity, Viscount Andrew’s butler invited Gawain and the others into the castle. They were taken to a spacious and bright living room and sat behind a long wooden table, waiting for the Viscount to meet them.

Seated in the large and comfortable velvet seat and looking at the exquisite silver tea set before him, Gawain could not help but think of those poor people, who could be described as wearing clothes not even covering their bodies, and their houses which looked like shacks. He had to admit that this fantasy world of swords and magic was making him… disillusioned.

“Lord Ancestor,” Rebecca, sitting next to Gawain, slightly poked her ancestor’s elbow, “How do we introduce you later?”

“Just as we discussed earlier. Tell it straight,” Gawain said without batting an eyelid. “When we’re here, we don’t need to keep a low-profile.”

“Ancestor,” Herti said, sticking out her lips in Amber’s direction. “Do you really think that… it’s appropriate for her to be here?”

Amber was just sitting opposite Gawain. The half-elf girl was seriously studying the silver tea set in front of her. Her main method of studying was to pour out the tea and then put the cup into her clothes. In the brief moment that Gawain spent looking up, she had stuffed another spoon inside.

Gawain glared at the person opposite him. “Amber!”

“Wah!” The bandit lady exclaimed a little dramatically before embarrassedly taking the items out and putting them onto the table. The items included two teacups, three soup spoons, a silver plate, a pocket watch, a nut, two wine cups, and the monocle that the butler, from earlier, had hung at his chest.

Gawain: “?!”

What the heck? Miss Doraemon, how the hell did you do that?!

In that moment, Gawain could not help but touch the Sword of Pioneers beside him, and he felt a heartfelt gratitude for this holy bandit for being so kind as to not steal his sword back when she was digging his grave…

“She is an important witness to my resurrection,” Gawain said, trying to hold back the twitching on his face, and he said, trying to look serious, “And don’t you think she would be more likely to ruin things if we put her somewhere else out of our sights?”

Herti nodded contemplatively in agreement.

Just then, Viscount Andrew finally walked into the living room.

The attendant pushed open the large oak door, and a thin, tall man came walking into the room. He wore a slim-fitting, black ceremonial attire. His brownish-black hair was slicked back and kept close to his scalp. The two ends of his meticulous moustache extended out both sides under his nose, and his face though pale had a somewhat abnormal flush to it. This kind of sickly look was actually quite common among the nobles, especially among those who were not endowed with magical or physical talents.

In order to experience supernatural powers beyond their natural talents and greater indulgence in pleasures, they would take large doses of magical drugs to ‘enhance their senses’. The side effects of this magical drug would be seen in their complexions.

They were even proud of it and regarded the paleness of their skin as one of the marks of being a noble.

The descendants of the Cecil family who still followed their ancestral teachings of using honest means, training up their combat or magical skills with hard work had become the weird ones in the aristocratic circles, but this could not be helped since the Cecil Clan had been in decline. Forget the magic drugs that cost more than people wanted to pay for, Rebecca did not even have the money to repair the holes in her clan’s castle, but of course, she had no need to repair those holes now.

“Ah, the beautiful Lady Herti, and likewise, Lady Rebecca, I’m really sorry for my lateness,” Viscount Andrew said in a loud and melodic voice upon entering the room, his face seemed sincerely apologetic. “But I was really too busy. The grievous news that happened in Cecil territory has spread all across my territory. The people are panicking. I had to spend most of my day arranging territorial defenses and listening to reports from those on patrol.”

Gawain immediate got goosebumps and whispered, “Do nobles nowadays have to speak in this expressive melodic manner?”

Rebecca lowered her voice and said, “Lord Ancestor, didn’t the nobility in your time do this as well?”

“We’d usually sit in taverns to drink alcohol, brag about each other’s business, and just talk about stuff.”

“… Then I guess that the customs now are really different from back then. Of course, Viscount Andrew’s way of speaking is really… a little bit more special than others.”

“We understand that you really should be busy now.” Seeing that Rebecca, the rightful heir of the Cecil Clan, was still busy chatting with her Ancestor at this time, completely unaware that she should stand up to receive the Viscount, Herti suddenly and impatiently glared at Rebecca as she stood up. “But I should remind you that you should address Rebecca as Viscount, not Lady as she has inherited the clan’s title since last year. On such occasions, you should address her as Viscount Rebecca or Viscount Cecil.”

Nobles of this world seemed to have less strict rules with regards to addressing someone of nobility. They could address them by their individual name or their clan’s name with the person’s title.

As Herti glared at her, Rebecca finally caught on. She stood up, greeted Viscount Andrew by half-rising out of her chair, which was the respect that nobles of the same level showed each other. The way she carried out the gesture was at least of acceptable standard. “Viscount Andrew, thank you for your hospitality.”

“You’re most welcome. Viscount Cecil.” After Herti’s soft reminder, Andrew recalled the lady’s reputation in the aristocratic circle, so he became less pompous, and chose to address Rebecca with her clan name instead of her own name, which was a more formal way of address. “I’m deeply sorry for what happened to Cecil territory. It’s a real calamity. But I’m glad that you are safe and sound. It seems like the legacy of the Cecil Clan will be preserved.”

What followed after was a series of unconstructive exchanging of pleasantries. One side had to follow strict protocols in showing concern for the other while the other side tried to show their gratitude for receiving this hospitality. Obviously, Rebecca, who was suspected to have a brain injury, was not very good at this type of socializing, so she awkwardly forced the change in topic, “Before the castle fell, Knight Philip led a team to help civilians to break out. They should have fled here. According to the laws established by the founding fathers, they should have received asylum from you. How are they doing now?”

“Of course, the law enacted by the founding fathers are sacred. Although my territory is small, it is more than capable to help a neighbor who is in trouble.” Andrew nodded. “The brave knight was battered with injuries then, and he hasn’t recovered yet. I’ve arranged for him to rest in the church of the Holy Light. They can provide him with the best treatment there. Those loyal soldiers and poor civilians have been arranged to stay in the eastern and southern parts of the city. Until now, not one of them have died from hunger or the cold.”

None of the civilians from the Cecil territory, who fled here, had died from freezing or hunger. They had already shown to have taken good care of the people. Of course, it made sense for Viscount Andrew to be willing to accept those refugees. After all, all these refugees from Cecil Clan that he accommodated would be converted into a debt that Rebecca had to pay for. If Rebecca were to want her clan’s people back, she must pay a ‘monetary reward’ to Viscount Andrew for every headcount.

Just as “One should help his neighbors in distress, and a noble should shelter and protect the neighboring people of other clans in times of crisis.” was written in Anzu’s law, “The party who receives help should pay the necessary reward to the party who provides help” was also clearly written in the statutes. Gawain was very aware of this.

After all, these two laws had been set by both Gawain Cecil and Charlie the First back in the day…

Although Rebecca was not very mature as a noble, she still understood the rules. Upon hearing from Viscount Andrew, she could not help looking slightly grim as she wondered if she was even able to pay off this debt that came so suddenly.

She could not help but glance at Gawain as an audacious thought, deserving of a beating, came to her.

Lord Ancestor… He must be wearing antiques… Why not ask the old man to sell his clothes?