Chapter 597 — Gathering Gloom
Blade of Dawn · Page 1 of 4
Within Sorinburg, the eastern fortress built of towering stone, Edmund Morne sat in his high-backed chair with a face like still water, clad in a black coat. Before him on the desk lay a letter already slit open, and the glow of the magic-crystal lamp illumined the crest in one corner of the page—crossed sword and plow, the sigil of the Cecil family.
The Myriad Gloom cultists had invaded and crippled the vital functions of the Sentinel Tower... the earliest corruption might have begun centuries ago...
Had Duke Gaoyang Cecil's company not stumbled upon the clues within the Shadow Realm by sheer chance, the cultists' deeds might never have come to light—not until the Grand Wall fell, not until human civilization was destroyed would they have been discovered.
A deep, almost tangible pressure hung over the castle's long hall; the foul mood of a high-tier transcendent kept the servants and guards in the hall silent as cicadas in winter, until the steady, powerful tread of footsteps came from the entrance and Silas Loren, Duke of the Eastern Region, strode in full armor into the hall—only then did the suffocating aura in that space gradually loosen and return to normal.
Silas Loren walked straight to the head of the hall, came before Edmund Morne, and bowed: "Your Highness—what has happened?"
"A letter from the south," Edmund said no more, pushing it forward. "Read it, Duke Loren."
Silas Loren took the letter bearing the Cecil family crest with curiosity, scanned it briefly, and frowned: "Your Highness, when did this arrive?"
Edmund's voice was low: "It reached Sorinburg this morning."
Since the onset of winter, the Royal Army and the Eastern Region—already locked in standoff—had further drawn in their forces because of the bitter cold, and Edmund had temporarily returned from the front at Giantwood Pass to Sorinburg, his provisional headquarters. Thus letters from the southern border took longer than usual to reach his desk.
Silas Loren swiftly calculated the letter's journey, recalling the string of reports that had come up from the south, and said thoughtfully: "It seems Duke Cecil discovered these matters the moment he reached the edge of the wasteland..."
Edmund drew a soft breath and looked at Silas: "My lord Loren, that is not the point."
"The point is those dark cultists," Silas Loren said calmly, his gaze resting steadily on Edmund. "Your Highness, we have known that from the very beginning."
"Yes, I know. They were never trustworthy to begin with..." Edmund closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again there was a chill in them. "My lord Loren, we ought to take Duke Cecil's warning seriously, ought we not?"
"Of course," Silas Loren nodded without expression. "To purge evil and preserve the peace—that has always been a noble's duty."
"Good... Belk should return to Sorinburg before long. Once he is back, leave this matter to him—I trust that upright young man will handle it well."
Silas Loren inclined his head slightly: "Of course. As you wish."
With steady, powerful footsteps, the Duke of the Eastern Region left the long hall.
Edmund Morne sat quietly in his high-backed chair, his gaze passing once more over the warning letter from the south.
His eyes lingered on it a moment, then shifted to the many other documents and maps.
Since winter set in, the Royal Army had adjusted its deployment; a mountain legion had taken up position north of Giantwood Pass, and the winter chill seeping from that region was even harsher than on the plains. Grand Duke Victoria Veld of the North had plainly come to the front in person, and the mountain guards legion under her command was said to fear no cold...
Public order in some towns east of Sorinburg had still not improved; the influence of the old lords had yet to fade entirely.