Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 675 - 674: Gondor Empire

This is not a coronation.

To declare today’s ceremony as a ”coronation” is merely because most people in this era are more familiar with this term.

Gawain, supporting himself with the Sword of Pioneers, stood on the skull of the fake god as if on a mountaintop, the black platform carrying a deeply solemn texture unlike the past royal style. Steel wings unfolded on both sides of the platform, and the imperial insignia draped down to the ground. In front of the insignia, the Steel Cavalry Corps was entering the plaza.

Differing from the black armor of the magic soldiers, the full-enclosed helmets brought a sense of mystery, the formations were more orderly, the weapons more advanced, and the arrival of the second formation stirred a commotion both inside and outside the plaza, a shock that equally spread to the platform in the castle area.

Invited aristocrats from the royal capital, merchant representatives, former knight officers and church representatives, dressed in their finest attire, rehearsed countless times at home, ready to welcome the king’s coronation and cheer, but when the moment truly arrived, almost all of them forgot how to react.

This is not a coronation; this is a display and a profoundly meaningful ”announcement.”

Earl Cromwell Whiteshill stood on the platform of Silver Castle, his eyes fixed on the soldiers marching in formation and their uniform equipment. Only now did he realize that this troop and the armies he had encountered before were two entirely different entities, and understood why Cecil’s rise was inevitable.

He exhaled gently, ”Your Majesty Wales... it seems this is the reason you wanted me to stay...”

”Witnessing firsthand is beneficial to those of us fortunate enough to survive.” Beside him, Earl Balin adjusted the collar of his necktie, slightly overweight, glanced at the faces on the platform. Among these faces, some heads lowered in contemplation, some trembled slightly, but inevitably all bore a hint of reverence.

Not far away, Duke Baldwin and Duchess Victoria were conversing, the Duke of the West softly lamenting, ”Only by first ensuring food production can widespread education be promoted, only by ensuring basic education and food supply can factory production and training of professional soldiers proceed, only by ensuring equipment, food supply, and strict training and re-education of professional soldiers can such an army be realized; it’s a complete chain with inseparable links.”

The Northern Duchess nodded slightly, ”The reason the New Policy failed initially was because we only copied a few links from it, and these few links eventually became self-entertaining little bonsais, hard to grow into forests...”

Listening to the conversations behind him, Cromwell Whiteshill, in deep thought, directed his gaze to the plaza, where orderly lined chariots were entering from the broad road on the east side.

At the edge of the Silver Castle Plaza, gathered citizens had settled from their initial astonishment, though they did not understand what significance this unprecedented ”coronation ceremony” held, the scene of the Cecil Legion marching was enough to thrill and amaze these people who were ordinarily entertainment-deprived.

The soldiers and chariots were mighty and awe-inspiring, undoubtedly a terrifying force on the battlefield that could strike fear into enemies, but here this army was not their enemy—it’s a subtle stimulus stirring the people in the plaza, making them uncontrollably eager to discuss, and finally cheer wave after wave.

Among the cheering and bustling crowd, in a small area isolated by the soldiers, a group of Mage Technicians in robes were operating several mechanical devices, optical crystals calibrated and directed towards Silver Castle, and a young man in formal attire excitedly explained beside the machine: ”...Here is the scene from St. Soniel; the Steel Envoy formation is receiving the emperor’s inspection... cheers are coming from all directions, Miss Witch, can you hear it—there are cheers everywhere!”

The young man’s words had just fallen when another shout suddenly came from the east side of the plaza, along with a cloud-like, diffused Holy Light.

The White Knight Brigade, clad in heavy armor, wielding warhammers and iron-bound Prayer Books, entered the plaza with heavy, powerful steps.

The surging Holy Light echoed within this group, and although they were the fewest in number, the power and presence of the brigade were nearly the strongest among all present units. Following the White Knights were the Original Church Knights and Nun Group enveloped by Holy Light...

People continued to cheer, continued to discuss; ordinary people often cannot discern how much symbolic meaning lies hidden on a ceremonial stage, they only found the scene novel and spectacular, yet on the nearby castle viewing platform, the atmosphere suddenly became solemn and silent.

The nobles exchanged glances, and knights and merchant representatives looked somewhat helplessly towards the area where church personnel gathered, only to see those clothed in clergy robes quietly standing there, expressionless, calmly watching all unfold.

In the midst of the priest Clergy, Princess Veronica, holding a platinum scepter, showed a faint smile, softly speaking: ”Now, the army of gods shall receive the emperor’s inspection.”

In one of the tower rooms of Silver Castle, Melita Ponia, wearing a veil, stood before the window, watching the plaza through crystal glass. When knights and nuns representing the church forces appeared, this humanoid dragon smiled gently and returned to the table.

On the table lay a stack of manuscripts, which had been turned to the last page. On the resilient, magic-imbued parchment, only one sentence was written:

Above all, despite the difficulty of the path, our success is inevitable, determined by historical laws...

The agent Miss blinked, murmuring under her breath, ”This thing... I can’t even put a price on it.”

On the plaza, due to the new empire’s limited troop types, this ”military parade” did not last long. Eventually, all formations completed the inspection, and after the religious brigade exited as the last unit, the initially present Magic Combat Corps returned to the open space in front of the drawbridge according to the preset process, quickly changing formation under the commander’s orders, forming three columns to face the crowd surrounding the plaza.

Only at this moment did Gawain finally move, hand resting on the sword hilt, raising the other hand slightly, his voice echoing all around: ”Everyone—

Raise your swords, light the blades—

Pay homage to the citizens of the Empire!”

The previous cheers and noise vanished instantly, and after a moment of silence, a commotion spread among the crowd as expected. When the imperial soldiers truly raised their swords in salute, nearly everyone instinctively retreated half a step in fear and confusion, then exchanged puzzled looks at the scene before them.

They could not understand this scene.

Gawain knew this was inevitable, but he wished only to leave this moment to history.

Before the commotion continued, the large holographic projection device set up before Silver Castle was activated.

Accompanied by the deep hum of magic, enormous light screens rose up, seemingly appearing out of thin air like bell towers. The crowd in the square was momentarily stunned into silence, then widened their eyes, focusing intently on the spectacle presented by the holographic projection.

The Magical Mechanized Legion departed from Rocky Ridges Fortress, embarking on the Plains of the Holy Spirits, heading north.

City villages were destroyed by the Crystal Cluster Army, desolate ruins lay scattered with bones, and sinister monsters roamed the battlefield.

Soldiers fought valiantly, the earth turned to scorched soil, cities were reclaimed, and the remaining refugees were sent to the rear by transport teams.

Armored trains fired upon the tracks, while the iron defensive lines set amidst the towering mountain ranges roared with artillery, repeatedly breached and countered.

These images were selectively chosen, with parts that might incite panic omitted. Yet even so, the crowd in the square still stirred repeatedly, some even terrified enough to attempt to flee: the impact of facing the holographic projection was immense, particularly for those ordinary people who had just experienced the Battle of St. Soniel.

But ultimately, the crowd maintained order—because people were not unfamiliar with holographic images. This world’s magic was omnipresent; even if civilians could not wield it, they had at least seen it. From the start, they realized these were images recorded by magic, and after the initial tension, they quieted down to watch those awe-inspiring scenes.

Outside of St. Soniel, in places they could not see, the war had reached this horrific extent.

Eventually, all image data concluded, and Gawain’s full figure appeared in the grand projection.

”Citizens, all living on this land, whether you are slaves or free people, merchants or farmers, soldiers or generals, commoners or aristocrats, whoever you are and wherever you may be at this moment—

”Your emperor is now speaking to you.

”This country has undergone severe challenges and trials, and all of us have just endured a calamity—the enemy tried to bring us down with plagues, monsters, wars, and even stolen divine power, but in the end, we persevered.

”We have won.

”Yet any victory is temporary.

”Difficulties and challenges will always exist, whether war, famine, plague, or other natural or man-made disasters. Living in this world, we cannot avoid them, only face them head-on and resist, for survival is our primary imperative.

”For survival, to confront the challenges of this world, and those who attempt to kill or destroy us, I now stand here to announce to you—a new nation will be established on this land reborn from the ashes.

”The Cecil Empire will be a haven for everyone on this land, citizens of the Empire’s glory, future members, each one of you belongs to it as it will belong to each of you—we will rebuild its ruins with diligence and wisdom, clear its filth, and it will be powerful and honored because of each and every one of you.

”We will overcome hunger, defeat plague, conquer ignorance and foolishness, to be well-clothed and safe; no matter how long this day takes to arrive, we will make it come.

”I am your emperor, Gawain Cecil, and I promise you that everything I say here today will serve as the foundation of the Cecil Empire, forever valid.”

The holographic projection gradually faded.

A few seconds later came cheering; people seemed still to ponder His Majesty’s inspiring words, but cheering eventually erupted, resonating throughout the entire St. Soniel city.

On the viewing platform of Silver Castle, Rebecca, dressed in court gown, stared wide-eyed at all this, overwhelmed with excitement. She wanted to raise her hand several times but hesitated, looking towards Aunt Heidi beside her, and pulled her hand back.

The attendants nearby were unsure of what Princess Veronica wanted to do, appearing somewhat helpless. Finally, Aunt Heidi turned her head slightly and in a voice only Rebecca could hear, whispered:

”Today is an exception.

”Create a big one—consider it a commemoration of a historic moment.”

When the fireball, almost as large as a magic-guided vehicle, blasted into the sky from Silver Castle, fireworks simultaneously erupted from the east and west sides of the square.

The ceremonial vehicle began to turn, preparing to return to the castle courtyard. Gawain lightly exhaled and glanced at the sky.

His nerves slightly relaxed, and he couldn’t help but ponder a question—

Years later, ”How large was the diameter of the fireball Princess Rebecca Cecil created at the empire founding ceremony, and what did it symbolize?” Would it become a historical question that people loathe?

The ceremony continued, with subsequent ceremonial processes and closing events lasting until dusk. But Gawain, the newly appointed Empire’s Sovereign, had mostly completed his tasks and could rest in the castle before the banquet started.

Returning to his room, he was unsurprised to find Melita Ponia already waiting there.

”Congratulations, His Majesty Gawain Cecil,” Miss Agent smiled, offering her congratulations, ”The Empire era has begun.”