Everything unfolded just as Wayne had predicted.
The news from the south would make the High King and nobles nervous. Combined with the warning from a resurrected ancient, that nervousness might even escalate to a touch of panic, but that was as far as it would go.
These people had never experienced a Tide, couldn't imagine one, and wouldn't take drastic action based on information that amounted to words alone. Even the corroded swords and armor Wayne had brought as evidence couldn't push them to a higher level of response.
After all, while "abnormal natural phenomena" capable of corroding weapons with magical energy were uncommon, they weren't unheard of. They couldn't serve as ironclad proof that the Tide was about to return. In truth, even Wayne himself had only made some bold conjectures based on his inherited memories, he certainly couldn't pound his chest and declare the end of the world was nigh.
Denethor II's response wasn't wrong. He couldn't put the entire kingdom on a war footing over sudden, unverified intelligence. Even if he wanted to, the bloated, outdated feudal system wouldn't allow it. And even if the Tide truly was coming, a nationwide mobilization right now would be unwise. The monsters and mana surges in the south were merely portents, they didn't even qualify as the Tide's vanguard. The real Tide might not arrive for months, or even years (assuming it arrived at all), and until then, everything would remain calm.
Demanding a national mobilization during calm times with no hard evidence, House Martell at the height of its power might have managed it, but the current Second Dynasty no longer commanded that kind of authority.
Denethor II couldn't even order the Eastern Grand Duke around.
A resurrected founding duke might carry tremendous prestige, but trying to use that prestige to interfere with the kingdom's current order was wishful thinking. Wayne understood this perfectly. He knew his voice in this room was essentially a flower scepter, gorgeous and ornamental, but utterly powerless. House Seawright's foundation was gone. No land, no people, no soldiers, no generals. They couldn't even afford the trip to the capital without borrowing from others. For the pragmatic noble class, this was an awkward position indeed.
So Wayne held back the still-eager Rebecca and addressed the High King across the table.
"We've delivered our message and issued our warning. The specifics of how to respond are your affair."
"We will take your warning with the utmost seriousness," Grand Duchess Victaria Stark said in her cool voice. "All investigations will commence immediately after this meeting concludes. You will receive updates at the earliest opportunity."
"Investigations... I suppose that's all that can be done for now," Wayne nodded, then shifted gears. "Then let's set that matter aside. Now I'd like to discuss House Seawright's private affairs."
This time, the tension in the room spiked for real.
"Relax. Don't look like the ancestor just crawled out of his coffin demanding you cash in all the spirit money you've been burning over the years," Wayne said with a wave and a smile, then realized nobody understood his joke.
So. Damn. Awkward.
"I know what happened a hundred years ago. Frankly, I'd quite like to kill that worthless descendant myself," Wayne's face twitched, and he cut straight to the point. "So I have no intention of reopening that case. I'm only here to reclaim some things that belong to me personally."
Denethor II and the Grand Dukes exchanged glances. Every face showed varying degrees of relief. Wayne had voluntarily raised the explosive topic of what happened a century ago, and that alone was an enormous weight off their shoulders. After all, whoever broached that sensitive subject first would feel their blood pressure spike to dangerous levels. Having this living ancestor show such consideration for his juniors was genuinely appreciated.
But the relief was immediately followed by renewed apprehension. What were these things that belonged to Gwayne Seawright personally?
Everything belongs to the lord, that was the noble code. The entirety of the old House Seawright's assets, including territories, vassals, and titles, were Gwayne Seawright's personal property. Which part was he referring to?
Everyone tensed muscles in places others wouldn't notice. Only Denethor II maintained a calm expression, glancing at Wayne and giving an imperceptible nod.
"Don't worry. Most of what I owned in life was passed to my descendants. The wastrel squandered it all, and I can't exactly demand it back by force," Wayne smiled. "What I'm referring to is the portion that cannot be inherited. For example... my Pioneering Rights."
The great nobles and advisors looked at one another. Then these well-educated, well-bred ladies and gentlemen immediately recalled that ancient, almost sacred Right of Eternal Conquest.
It was the glorious memorial of the Second Expansion. Proof that humanity had fought for survival against impossible odds. A mortal declaration of defiance before the forces of nature. To this day, it remained part of the foundational legal code of all four great nations, a decree that would never again take effect, yet which no one dared to repeal.
The original Right of Eternal Conquest had even been engraved on platinum tablets and enshrined in the halls of every human nation.
But everyone had kept it as a keepsake! For showing off to future generations! To demonstrate the legitimacy of their heritage!
How was it suddenly about to take effect again?!
Yet amid the astonishment, every face also held a trace of genuine relief, a subtle shift that didn't escape Wayne's eyes.
So he relaxed as well, and began discussing the Right of Eternal Conquest with those present.
Wayne was confident this wouldn't be too difficult.
Compared to a living ancestor returning from the grave to demand that all the spirit money ever burned in his honor be redeemed in cash, and while he was at it, reclaiming the vast territories that had practically constituted a state within a state, a mere Right of Eternal Conquest was nothing. The latter sounded intimidating, but it wouldn't affect a single person in this room's actual interests. And when their own interests weren't at stake, every noble (including the High King himself) became remarkably agreeable.
This was also the result Wayne had deliberately engineered.
He'd been conspicuous the entire journey, spreading all manner of stories, even unfurling the seven-hundred-year-old banner when entering the capital, projecting an aggressive, here-for-a-reckoning image. This had been calculated to steer everyone's expectations, to make them assume this living ancestor had come to overturn House Seawright's verdict and reclaim every last acre of the family's former territories. So everyone had prepared their countermeasures accordingly, readying their verbal swords and shields to protect their current interests.
But Wayne's actual goal was only the Right of Eternal Conquest.
The gap was roughly equivalent to walking into a store to buy a watch listed at 860,000, only to find it marked down to 25. You'd feel like you'd stumbled onto the deal of the century.
You might even suspect the watch was fake.
But even if the 25-coin watch was fake, the ancestor was real. If all he actually wanted was a Pioneering Right... what was there to discuss?
Sure, sure, sure, here you go. Take your Pioneering Rights and go homestead somewhere. Just please don't come back.jpg
If Wayne had done no groundwork and simply proposed the Pioneering Rights from the start, things might not have gone so smoothly. The nobles' inherent greed would have compelled them to nickel-and-dime even this. But with all that preparation, negotiating the rights became far easier.
The High King and Grand Dukes reached a consensus with barely any discussion. The Pioneering Rights themselves must be recognized. They had no choice, Andraste hadn't been the only signatory. All four human nations, plus every neighboring race and state that bordered them, had acknowledged the decree and pledged it would be permanent. And among these "co-witnesses" were the High Elves of the Silver Dominion in the continent's far south...
Those mystical, extraordinarily long-lived elves.
Those creatures with average lifespans of three thousand years and above, fanatically committed to precision and integrity, were famously stubborn. Having the elves serve as witnesses when signing the Right of Eternal Conquest was precisely because of this trait. The four founding monarchs, wanting to make the decree appear even more solemn and credible, had even commissioned a copy written in Elvish and entrusted it to the Silver Dominion for safekeeping.
Everyone knew the first-generation pioneer knights couldn't possibly live forever, yet humanity had insisted on drafting a decree stamped with "permanent" and having a long-lived race witness it. This was probably just one of humanity's quirks...
At any rate, the elven representative at the time had muttered "humans really are strange" while carrying the copy home. Then the Elf Queen had cheerfully stamped her seal on it. In the blink of an eye, seven hundred years had passed. The queen who'd been a newly crowned young thing back then was... still the Elf Queen.
And she remembered very clearly what she'd stamped. Care to try not honoring it?
Wayne had even mentioned that if Andraste refused to recognize his rights, he'd pack up the whole family and trek halfway across the continent to seek refuge with the Silver Dominion. After all, there was plenty of undeveloped land around the elven forests, and quite a few of those elves were old acquaintances who'd surely get along wonderfully with House Seawright...
The founding ancestor, squeezed out of his own homeland, dragging his entire family to live in the trees on foreign soil, if that story got out, could anyone show their face in public ever again?
So everyone unanimously agreed that Pioneering Rights were something that absolutely must be honored. But as for where exactly to pioneer... that required some discussion.
"There is not a single plot of habitable unclaimed land within the kingdom. Every inch of soil has its owner," said the High King's Lord Chancellor, Aemon Abelar, rising to his feet. This steady, composed man was Denethor II's right hand, and he knew the kingdom's situation inside and out.
"Beyond the kingdom, the border zones with other nations also have very little unclaimed land, and what exists is dead ground where nothing lives. The buffer zones around the Gondor Wasteland, for instance. Your Grace, where do you intend to pioneer?"
Wayne waved his hand. "Bring me a map."
A map was presented. One glance and Wayne couldn't help but frown slightly.
Even with this world's convenient magic, Eagle Eye, Forest Sense, Surveying spells and the like all helping with cartography, the map before him was still crude, with notable issues even in its scale.
Compared to the "satellite view" in his head, it was practically a doodle.
Perhaps it was precisely because magic was so convenient that it had actually stunted the development of many things?
Thinking this, Wayne completed his mental comparison with his accurate map, then placed his finger on a specific area of the rough chart. "I'll start here."
It was a mountain range bordering both the Gondor Wasteland and the Storm Imperium frontier.
The Black Mountains.