Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 1082: Chapter 1081: Outposts

Rosetta’s question was straightforward, and Gawain was not surprised at all—everyone in the room knew that they were here today to discuss this very issue.

The "war" between Typhon and the Cecil Clan had ended; the ceasefire agreement signed at the Winterhold Fort Battlefield had been in effect for some time, but for the soldiers of both nations, the matter was not yet completely resolved. As of now, the reconstruction of the Winterhold defensive line was ongoing, and Winterwolf Fortress remained under the control of the Cecil Legion. Despite having withdrawn half of the troops from the Winterwolf Fortress area as a sincere gesture in accordance with the ceasefire agreement, everyone knew that the blue and gold sword and plow flags still flew over the Typhon fortress—and the massive Iron Throne armored train remained stationed at the border between the two nations.

This matter would have to be addressed sooner or later.

Gawain listened calmly to Rosetta’s words, fully aware that under the current circumstances, the Cecil army stationed at Winterwolf Fortress no longer had a legitimate reason to continue occupying the fortress unless he intended to escalate the concluded "war" into an invasion. He was never truly focused on the defensive line at Winterwolf Fortress—but until his real objectives were achieved, the troops at Winterwolf Fortress remained a valuable card.

"I understand your concerns—however, you may rest assured that the Cecil Clan has no intention of annexing neighboring lands," Gawain said slowly. "Our initial occupation of Winterwolf Fortress was dictated by the situation; as you know, the Typhon troops were in a state of disarray at the time, your command system was in chaos, and we had to prevent the flames of war from spreading to our own land, thus we were forced to advance the frontline. But now that the war is over, the land that originally belonged to Typhon is, of course, to be returned, except... we have our own difficulties.

"The battle at the Winterhold frontline inflicted heavy losses not only on Typhon; the Cecil armored corps also suffered intense attacks within the range of War God’s strike. We lost two light armored trains and one main armored train, our losses in main battle tanks are countless, and there are also disabled heavy artillery and numerous wounded on the battlefield... we can’t abandon all this on the battlefield.

"We need to transport heavy weapons back to the homeland, but the railway line leading to Longwind Fortress has been completely destroyed; repairing it will take considerable time. These wounded need care; many are severely injured and cannot endure long journeys. Coupled with the disruption of the railway, they too are forced to remain at Winterwolf Fortress. Frankly, I’m more eager than you to get them home, but I can’t have the injured walk back to Longwind Fortress..."

Rosetta frowned; he was well aware that Gawain’s words were mere excuses—every sentence may be true, yet truths mixed with lots of lies. Still, he followed along and asked, "So what you mean is..."

"Once the main railway line is repaired and the wounded can be transferred to the rear, my army will immediately withdraw from the Winterwolf region," Gawain replied. "In fact, you should know, I’ve already ordered the local troops to withdraw; most units that can be transferred have already left, and the remaining ones... cannot be evacuated overnight."

"And how long will this process take?" Matilda looked at Gawain, "A month? A year? Or even longer?"

"I can only say as soon as possible," Gawain shrugged, "but many factors are beyond my control."

Rosetta gazed into Gawain’s eyes for a long time before suddenly breaking the silence, "We don’t really need to haggle over such watered-down matters, do we? We’re not here today to polish words—"

He spoke as he adjusted his sitting posture, adopting a more solemn attitude as he looked at Gawain, "We each rule a powerful empire; under different circumstances, we’d hardly need to meet in person—if it were merely about the ownership of a fortress, our diplomats could handle the negotiations. But now, you and I are here, face to face, so I hope we can discuss more candidly. No diplomatic words, no implications or metaphors, straightforward and open—Typhon is morally deficient in this matter, so you may state your terms. What do you want?"

It was only then that Gawain revealed a genuine smile. He then sighed, making himself more comfortable, "You should have said this earlier, rather than testing the waters with Winterwolf Fortress matters. Now that we’ve come this far, let me share my thoughts—Amber."

At his words, Amber casually produced a folded map, laid it on the coffee table, and unfolded it, revealing the northeastern regional map of Loren Continent to everyone present.

At the moment he saw the map, Rosetta’s pupils noticeably constricted. However, it wasn’t any particular marks on the map that caught his attention, but its astonishing accuracy and the detailed depiction of numerous islands and coastlines along the coastal area. Especially the latter—some coastal islands unknown to anyone and unmanned shorelines unfamiliar even to local residents were precisely outlined, which constituted information sufficient to raise his guard.

While Rosetta’s attention was captured by the map, Gawain’s fingers had already pointed to a location at the junction of Typhon and the Cecil Nation’s borders.

"Dragon Summoning Gulf; as far as I know, Typhon calls it that too," Gawain’s finger pressed on the map, while his gaze met the Typhon Emperor’s, "I will build a port here—serving as a northeastern node for the continental ring route. Moreover, to provide necessary maritime defense and turbulent flow warning for Dragon Summoning Gulf, I need to set up some bases in the offshore area of the port... In other words, I want these islands."

The room fell silent.

Rosetta Augustus’s expression was as calm as a deep pool, while Matilda took a gentle breath. At this moment, it felt as if a biting cold wind blew through the surrounding space, making the air almost tangible and stagnant. Simultaneously, a name floated to both Rosetta and Matilda’s minds—

Winter.

That terrifying steel warship still hovered in the offshore region of the eastern Winterhold; it had been staying there for a long time without showing any sign of returning, like a nail, firmly affixed to the edge of Typhon Empire’s coastline.

Ah, so it’s like this.

Gawain remained silent, patiently waiting for Rosetta’s answer; his expression hardly changed, making it impossible for others to discern whether he was confident or triumphant. The silence in the room endured for a long time, until Rosetta suddenly raised his head, his deeply entrenched black eyes solidifying with seemingly glacial determination, "Typhon cannot accept."

"You should think carefully," Gawain said patiently and calmly, showing no surprise on his face, "I haven’t demanded your coastline, nor demanded any land, not even your near-sea waters—I am asking for the island groups in the southern offshore of Dragon Summoning Gulf. They are approaching the areas dominated by stormy turbulence and are not within your territorial range."

"Typhon can permanently renounce its territorial claims on Dragon Summoning Gulf—that is a disputed region, but we can acknowledge it as belonging to the Cecil Clan. However, those islands... they’re on Typhon’s side," Rosetta said decisively, "This has nothing to do with being within near-sea waters; even islands deep into the turbulent ocean are part of Typhon’s territory."

"The endless ocean is vast and boundless; Typhon cannot extend its control zone infinitely into the sea—those islands have no ownership, it’s factual, and marking them on a map won’t change that," Gawain countered firmly, "We can make those islands serve their purpose, which is surely better than leaving them to be eroded by the sea and storm."

At this moment, Matilda suddenly spoke from the side, "What if those islands have ownership?"

Gawain furrowed his brows: "What do you mean?"

"I think you should be able to contact that warship at any time, right?" Matilda looked into Gawain’s eyes, "Why not confirm it for yourself?"

Gawain vaguely realized something, he glanced deeply at Emperor Rosetta Augustus and Matilda, then said solemnly: "It seems... there are some things we’ll have to discuss tomorrow."

...

In the boundless ocean, a towering and immense steel warship was quietly floating on the sea under the night sky. The waves continuously surged around it, and the sea wind from the southeast slapped against the steel side panels of the warship. However, this most powerful warship in history only swayed slightly now and then, stable as a small mountain.

Byron Kirk stood on a high platform on the front deck, gazing out at the distant sea, somewhat bored, but apart from the nearby undulating waves glistening faintly under the starlight, he couldn’t actually see anything.

The Winter had already sailed far from land. At this distance, even in daylight, nothing could be seen, let alone at night.

This ship had been floating on the ocean for a long time, and the soldiers along with it had been living at sea for an extended period. This was probably the longest human endeavor at sea since the second expansion (excluding the legendary adventures of certain explorers). After getting through the initial adaptation period, life at sea became monotonous and dull, and even Byron began to miss the days on land. But the strict military discipline still prevailed on the ship, with well-trained sailors planning their orderly lives as if they were onshore, while continuously accumulating valuable experience during this period.

Gaining experience on executing long-term naval missions, maintaining and repairing ship machinery at sea, understanding the maritime environment, and devising responses... all these were extremely valuable technical accumulations, essential first-hand information for future naval construction and soldier training. Even though Byron had led his soldiers in numerous simulated exercises in coastal areas before this mission, no matter how realistic the simulated exercises were, they couldn’t compare to the real experiences in reliability.

While collecting and accumulating these valuable data, Byron also carried out his important assignment: monitoring the Typhon Empire’s coastline, ready at any moment to follow orders from the rear.

Everyone on the ship understood the significance of this: as a floating fortress on the ocean, as long as the Winter remained here, it posed a sufficient deterrent to the Typhon Empire.

At this moment, the sound of footsteps suddenly came from behind. Byron turned his head to see a subordinate officer coming up to the platform.

"General, we have received a classified order," the officer quickly approached Byron, saluted, and said with a serious expression, "The high command orders us to move immediately southeast and investigate the situation on reefs H-6, H-9, and H-12."

...

With a slight buzzing sound, a lightweight Dragon Cavalry aircraft, modified for reconnaissance missions, took off from the circular platform at the rear of the Winter, flying towards the distance in the night sky.

The undulating sea surface and low mist rapidly receded in the observer’s view. Supplemented by night vision and Hawk’s Eye enchanted observation lenses, the distant scene became clear before the aerial scout’s eyes. The young scout’s eyes were fixed on the situation on the sea, and after flying for a period, his vision finally presented something different from the water, a tiny light source that seemed it could be extinguished at any moment.

That was the first reef he was responsible for reconnoitering—a barren rock soaked in the cold and biting seawater. On this desolate little "island," even a few tufts of grass were rare, yet a small steadfast flame rose on it, illuminating the whole reef and the nearby sea.

A simple tent stood in the cold sea breeze, two sentinels holding short Magic Wands stood in front of the makeshift tent; they were vigilantly watching the distant sea. Behind the sentinels, above the tent, the flag of the Typhon Empire was fluttering in the dark.

On the distant horizon, the faint glow of dawn slowly spread across the undulating waves.

Inside the bridge of the Winter, Byron sat with a stern expression in the captain’s seat while the communications operator, standing beside the Magic Web Terminal, reported the intel from the scouts:

"Sentinels and flags of the Typhon Empire found on the reefs H-6, H-9, and H-12. They seem to have been set up recently... no Typhon warships were found nearby..."

"General," an officer standing next to Byron spoke hesitantly, lowering his head, "Those ’outposts’ are all very fragile, but we probably can’t..."

"Not ’probably,’ but ’definitely,’" Byron sighed, "We absolutely can’t attack, even if those tents and flags would collapse with a push..."

He shook his head and lifted his gaze, his eyes looking through the window on the side of the bridge, out onto the broad deck—the massive Rainbow Light Generator squatted like a beast on the deck, flanked by smaller side cannons around the terrifyingly powerful main cannon. The warship’s Magic Energy Wingboard extended outward from one side, the magic symbol arrays on the wingboard’s surface faintly glowing in the fading starlight.

This ship could destroy fortresses, sink old-era warships, sweep coastal fortifications and bunkers, could even execute a weakened divine being—

But it couldn’t eliminate those ’outposts’ made of a few sentinels and a tent.

"Report upwards," Byron sighed again, "This matter should be left to His Majesty’s judgment."

As he spoke, he couldn’t help but mutter, "Damn, when did the Typhon Empire react to this..."