Chapter 1101: Chapter 1100: The Final Stage

At the highest point of the City of Thousand Towers, the room of the Dim Court always seems shrouded in a hazy veil. Even when standing in this high tower and looking outside, in the clearest of skies, one feels a layer of gloom floating above. There seems to be an indescribable "barrier" between the city buildings surrounding the high tower. Those who occasionally visit this towering edifice are deeply impressed by the sight—yet no one can explain the source of this "veil" sensation.

There are no recorded documents, no technical interpretations published by the Royal Mages Institute, and the rulers of the high tower never explain the secrets of their residence to the lower mages. The "veil" that envelops this high tower is one of the oldest secrets of the Violet Kingdom. It’s not very conspicuous but always piques the interest of some prying eyes.

Prince Nash stood before a floor-to-ceiling window adorned with bronze edges, his gaze calmly sweeping across the distant sky. Under the dim and faint skylight, the reflection in the eyes of this King of Mages was slightly misaligned with the current time-space. At a particular moment, he suddenly raised his hand and made a slight wave, causing the scenery outside the tower to tremble unnaturally. The next second, a vague shadow appeared outside the "veil" and quickly dissipated in a silent wail, as if dissolving under the splendid sunlight.

"There are always oblivious elemental creatures or spiritual bodies attracted here," Nash Narte muttered with a frown, "especially more this year."

"This is a powerful magic power hub and a focal point of time-space distortion, like the bottom of a funnel where all extraordinary powers within the funnel’s range slide towards this ’breach.’ It’s determined by natural law," the lady in the mirror smiled and said, "The Dim Court’s veil attracts those sensitive elemental creatures and spiritual bodies. The frequency is about the same every year, and according to my monitoring record, there’s actually no change this year."

"...Perhaps I’m just being overly sensitive," Prince Nash thought for a moment and couldn’t help but sigh, "After all, a lot has been happening recently."

The beautiful lady in the mirror regarded Prince Nash’s back, and after a moment of pondering, she softly spoke, "Honestly, have you considered responding to that ’alliance’ invitation? Or at least getting involved in those interesting new changes taking place on the Loren Continent. The mages living in the outer districts have been getting quite close to the merchants from the Loren Continent lately, and they seem very interested in that ’ring continental route.’"

"I haven’t banned commercial exchanges at the grassroots level and have already permitted the ring continental route to navigate through the southern strait," Prince Nash turned to look at the lady appearing in the mirror, his expression serious, "For the Violet Kingdom, this degree of ’openness’ is already enough—we shouldn’t forge too many bonds with the kingdoms on the Loren Continent. As for those mages residing in the outer district cities... fundamentally, they’re different from us, aren’t they, Benadette."

"Ah, yes, they are more relaxed, more free compared to us," the lady in the mirror spread her hands, half-jokingly sighing, "Unlike us, burdened with a host of missions whose meaning is unknown, living forever isolated from the world."

"Alright, let’s not complain about these things. We’re not entirely ’cut off from the world’—at least every year, we still have some mage apprentices who pass their tests and come to the City of Thousand Towers from the Loren Continent. We also frequently send people to observe the world’s changes in Loren, which is better than a thousand years ago," Prince Nash laughed, comforting the image of Benadette in the mirror, quickly changing the subject, "Besides, your outfit today is very beautiful."

"This is the one I wore yesterday."

"...Yesterday’s was beautiful too."

Benadette in the mirror placed her hands on her hips and sighed, "...Don’t you have a brain?"

Prince Nash opened his mouth and seemed briefly at a loss for words. Then he awkwardly spread his hands and smiled, before turning back to face the floor-to-ceiling window and continued gazing into the distance, lost in thought.

...

The conference had been going on for several days. During this time, the leaders or plenipotentiaries from dozens of countries large and small on the Loren Continent were straining their brains, mobilizing all available information and intellectual resources. Every day, they faced a series of monumental data capable of influencing the entire known world, to which they needed to respond and vote by the following day. The conference had already exceeded most countries’ expectations, arriving like a swift tsunami, engulfing the narratives of the era. Even though the representatives were caught off guard, they instinctively realized the massive influence upon their world—and their homeland—it entailed.

As if captains steering through waves, the representatives grasped the helm amidst these silent surges, trying to guide their ships in such an immensely transformative tide to find positions and directions that were both safe and advantageous, while still accountable to their citizens and subordinates upon their return.

As time went on, the once-chaotic waves revealed certain regularities, and the captains gradually grasped the rhythm of the storm. Thus, a hint of order formed amidst the previously scattered "fleet," more and more consensus reached through vehement discussions and exchanges. Common interests grew, old animosities were shelved temporarily—or conceded in the face of larger interests. The winds had not completely calmed, but the helmsmen had acknowledged the fleet’s order, and in this process brewed a series of results—

Initially, the alliance was established, and the CLC Charter took effect, followed by the inauguration of the ring continental route, pertinent agreements, and the enactment of the Maritime Trade Act. Subsequently came the formation of the Alliance Food Committee and the approval of the resolution for food assistance to Talronde. A joint sea and air patrol circle was established, relevant laws enacted, while a series of continental internal trade laws were voted through as well, including measures for adjudicating interstate conflicts, the international legal framework, and a necessity memorandum, as well as member nation security guidelines...

The meeting lasted quite a while, remaining intensely tense every second.

During this process, the openly available intelligence from the 112 conference continuously spread through various national intelligence channels—indeed, even the most backward, remote small nations promptly relayed the messages back home by borrowing the Cecil, Typhon, and Silver Empire’s remote communication networks.

With time passing day by day, the public agenda of the 112 conference finally concluded on the tenth day. As the voting on the "Interim General Approach to Land & Sea Boundary Identification" concluded, the flag above the Oath Stone Circle gradually returned to its mundane state.

Under the blue-ground-gold-patterned banner, Gawain let out a small sigh of relief, realizing that the most burdensome issue he harbored had finally been addressed. However, he was yet to fully relax—this summit’s public part had ended, but there were still matters requiring discreet handling, tasks that couldn’t be rashly discussed openly. After reviving his spirits once more, he lifted his head and his gaze swept across the somewhat weary-faced representatives under various banners, his deep voice breaking the silence.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have just voted through the final bill. With that, the public agenda of this conference has come to a successful conclusion. Let us celebrate this moment first."

As his words fell, applause immediately arose from various parts of the hall, shifting from sparse to enthusiastic in a very short time. After this burst of enthusiastic yet brief applause ended, Gawain continued: "Next, according to the meeting procedures recorded in the manual, we will proceed to a closed-door meeting—only one delegate from each country will remain, while the rest of the support teams, administrative teams, and media teams are asked to leave the venue in an orderly fashion. The remaining representatives can rest for thirty minutes. Please do not wander far as the Oath Stone Circle will be temporarily sealed until the end of the meeting in thirty minutes."

The final stage includes an additional closed-door meeting—this issue had already been noted in the meeting manuals given to the representatives from each side, so none of them were surprised by Gawain’s words; no one raised questions. In fact, part of the well-informed and insightful participants had already guessed what the closed-door meeting was about to discuss. They displayed a contemplative look momentarily, but in the end, no one said anything.

Then, the representatives from each side and their support teams began to leave the venue orderly or head to the rest area for a brief break as required by the procedure. Gawain also temporarily left his seat, but he didn’t go far and went directly to the flag of the Silver Empire—where Queen Belsetia was standing, discussing something with Emperor Rosetta Augustus.

Noticing Gawain’s approach, Queen Belsetia turned around with a slight smile. Immediately, Emperor Rosetta also raised his head to glance over, and made a gesture with his right hand—he held a low-alcohol sweet wine, the slightly red wine and the exquisite crystal glass sparkling brilliantly in the sunlight.

"Uncle Gawain," Queen Belsetia greeted with a smile, the kind of imposing majesty she had as the Silver Empress during the prior meeting had gradually dissipated, "Your performance today was outstanding as always."

"I don’t need that kind of flattery," Gawain smiled, "Besides—aren’t you supposed to call me ’Uncle Gawain’ only in non-public settings?"

Queen Belsetia casually replied with a relaxed tone: "In my view, the current situation counts as ’non-public’—this meeting has been exhausting enough, it’s better to relax a bit during breaks for one’s health."

Gawain then looked towards Emperor Rosetta Augustus on the side, his gaze falling upon the other’s wine glass, and said casually: "Drinking during the meeting?"

Emperor Rosetta shook the crystal cup in his hand, a light smile on his face: "Long meetings make my mouth dry, and a small amount of alcohol seems to keep me more alert than water."

Gawain thought for a moment and couldn’t help but comment: "...This wine is actually brewed from Sorin Tree Fruit."

Emperor Rosetta’s expression changed subtly for a moment, and then when he looked at the wine glass in his hand, there was a helpless yet amused look in his eyes. After a moment, he softly muttered: "Are you trying to say that even this wine is older than my generation?"

"Just a joke. I don’t suppose Beltira regards the fruits hanging from the tree as some kind of descendants," Gawain said with a grin—although he genuinely thought that if a clever P studio player stood here, they might bring a claim against Typhon with a Sorin Tree Fruit—then he went straight to the point, "It’s about time for the final phase. Is Typhon prepared?"

"As we agreed before on the theocracy Authority Council issue, Typhon will unwaveringly stand on Cecil’s side," Emperor Rosetta Augustus immediately put on a serious expression, "Rest assured—there’s no obstacle to this."

So the remaining War God forces in Typhon that had not yet submitted to Aldernon are completely wiped out... And it seems the Augustus Clan has regained control over the whole nation and filled the vast emptiness left by the collapse of the Sect of the God of War...

Gawain didn’t say anything further, only nodded gently.

"The Silver Empire is ready as well—Highmountain Kingdom and the small southern nations are likewise," Queen Belsetia added from the side, "On this matter, the high ranks of Orthodox Druidism hold a unanimous view, but I can’t rule out that some Mystic groups in the forest and stubborn indigenous followers might retaliate on a small scale. The Elven Royal Court can handle those troubles, but our progress might be a bit slower, which I hope you can anticipate."

"I understand, after all, the theocracy has deep roots in the Silver Empire, and your race’s long lifespan makes it difficult for many elves who experienced the ancient times to accept... change." Gawain nodded slightly, once again unable to suppress an indescribable sense of lament: Oftentimes, the progress of an era requires not just the growth of new things but also the demise of the old, even necessitating the passing of an old generation, those stubbornly clinging to stale memories, unable to adapt to changes—though such a statement sounds cold and heartless, it’s often the nature of the world and its shifts.

In this world, the sorrow of long-lived races lies herein—compared to the short-lived races with rapid generational turnover, members of long-lived races... simply don’t easily perish. They live too long, and memories entangle their race like a long, worn-out rope; yet even though this rope has become moldy and decayed, the younger generations remain ensnared within, unable to break free.

Emperor Rosetta showed a somewhat surprised expression: "Even now, there are elves who firmly adhere to primitive Druid doctrines, refusing to acknowledge the current Druid factions?"

"Indeed, not only are there followers, but also a few of the elderly elves who experienced the ’Primitive Era’ are still alive," Queen Belsetia replied with a complex expression on her face, "This even includes a high-Druid priest from over three thousand years ago, as well as a small group of priests... Although these elves have distanced themselves from the center of ecclesiastic power, tacitly consenting to the order established by the current Elven Royal Court and the symbolic role of the royal family’s highest priest, they still wield significant influence in certain primitive sects, and it is not excluded that they had secret ties to some Mystic organizations in the past three millennia..."

Gawain couldn’t help but frown, this situation had not been mentioned by Queen Belsetia last time, and he couldn’t help but look toward the Silver Empress: "They wouldn’t appreciate the Elven Royal Court initiating another ’reform’ on matters concerning the God of Nature... How do you plan to approach this group?"

"We can’t adopt hardline measures, nor can we ignore them," Queen Belsetia sighed, "I will patiently engage with them—rest assured, I’ve dealt with them for hundreds of years. It’s a headache, but not unsolvable."

At this remark, the Silver Empress smiled helplessly, with a touch of irony: "Perhaps only their gods descending could persuade these elders who refuse to forget the past."

Gawain: "..."

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