Sword of Dawnbreaker

Gawain pondered slightly: The Gran Territory would be an ally to Cecil, and Patty herself was an important stepping stone for him to understand and probe the Eternal Sleepers. Both sentiment and reason dictated that they should help, but Pittman was not only a Druid but also the highest authority on alchemical industry and agricultural adviser on the territory. With winter coming to an end and matters of spring planting on the horizon after the Revival Month, and the territory’s Alchemy Factory also considering expansion... Could Pittman afford to leave at this time?

However, after brief consideration, he nodded: ”You can go—but arrange the matters of spring plowing and factory expansion properly.”

”Certainly,” Pittman smiled, ”That isn’t too big of a problem for me.”

After Lady Ropeney went to check on Patty’s condition and there were no others around, Gawain looked at Pittman with a playful smile: ”Your ritual magic certainly works well, huh.”

The little old man chuckled: ”Ritual magic is, after all, my specialty.”

”However, elemental purification and filtering harmful magic... doesn’t seem like a technique a low-ranked Druid would master,” Gawain said indifferently, ”Could it be that you’ve also happened to dabble in shamanic spells?”

”At this age, it’s normal to learn a few more crafts.” Pittman said casually.

”...What’s the point of mentioning age in front of me?” Gawain waved his hand slightly, ending the topic nonchalantly, with no further inquiry.

Pittman merely watched silently as Gawain turned and left. After a long while, the old Druid shook his head lightly, with a hint of a smile on his face.

Three days later, Gawain and others left the ancient castle of the Gran Family, returning to Cecil.

This was the last day of this winter.

The cold northern wind no longer carried the piercing chill; high in the night sky, the ”Reef Star” and ”Trident Throne” subtly shifted positions. The change in wind and stars heralded the arrival of the Revival Month.

And as the Revival Month arrived, a message began to spread across the eastern region of Anzu and the Plains of the Holy Spirits. Initially, only the itinerant merchants and adventurers were spreading some ominous and unfounded rumors, but soon, more accurate and reliable information began to emerge from the mouths of the aristocratic grooms and chefs—

The magic communication towers on the border between Anzu and Typhon had been reactivated.

The King was preparing for peace talks with the Typhon Emperor.

But for Gawain, more than this news, which he had anticipated all along, another event made him want to celebrate.

On this still chilly spring day, a baby was born on the land of Cecil Clan.

From the time the first wooden stake was driven into this developing new region, from the time the survivors lit the first campfire here, nearly a year’s time had passed. Over ten thousand people had moved into this land, not counting the recently incorporated Kant’s Domain. This was the first newborn to be born on this land.