Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 519 - 518: Pittman’s Secret

The first snowfall of the winter has finally arrived.

The fluttering snowflakes fall from the leaden sky, gently covering every inch of Cecil Castle. All the bell towers, rooftops, city walls, and sentinel towers are quickly blanketed in white. In this boundless and gentle snow, the boundaries between sky and earth, city and wilderness, houses and streets—all boundaries become blurred.

Tiel carefully squirmed her way to the porch. She extended her long tail out of the porch, quickly poking the thin layer of snow beneath with the tip of her tail. A visible shiver traveled up from the tip of her tail through her whole body—the sea demon shivered vigorously and pulled her tail back into a ball: "It’s freezing! I’m not going out in this dreadful weather!"

However, Rebecca stood in the middle of the courtyard, waving her hand vigorously at Tiel: "It’s rare to have a day off on Week Ten! Come and try it! Snowball fights are so much fun! I’ve loved snow since I was little!"

In Cecil, the workweek is eight days long, with days off on Saturdays and Week Tens. But due to several research projects’ schedules recently, Rebecca hadn’t had a day off in a long time. This long-awaited first snow finally gave her a reason to take a break and reminisce about happy times playing in the snow when she was young. Although she’s grown up and the world has changed dramatically, snow is snow—always bringing happiness.

For Tiel, who grew up in the deep-sea, she couldn’t understand Rebecca’s source of joy. This was her second winter on land, and this season, where snow falls, ice forms, and water elements are inactive, held no interest for her: "It’s just throwing snowballs back and forth—humans love tossing anything ever since they began throwing stones. I can’t understand this hobby... And shouldn’t you wait for the snow to stop before having a snowball fight? This amount of snow isn’t enough for anything..."

The sea demon kept talking while working harder to coil her tail and tried to tuck her upper body into the ball formed by her tail: "I’m sleepy. I want to go back to sleep..."

However, before she finished speaking, a cold little snowball suddenly flew through the air, landing square on her forehead.

"Wow!!" Tiel barely maintained her balance, and the coiled tail ball almost rolled backward, "I said I’m not playing!"

"It wasn’t me!" Rebecca also saw the snowball on Tiel’s face and quickly gestured with her hands, "The snowball came from another direction..."

Before she could finish, another snowball fly from the corner of the courtyard, landing squarely on her forehead.

"...Amber!!"

Tiel finally screamed, and her shout reminded the still-bewildered Rebecca. Both of them looked up together in the direction the snowball came from—a snowball was forming out of thin air, and the snow on the ground bore sneaky footprints...

In the still-falling first snow, a small skirmish unfolded in the courtyard of the feudal lord’s mansion.

"Ah, to be young..."

Behind the floor-to-ceiling window of the study, Gawain withdrew his gaze from the courtyard below, softly sighing.

Pittman, seated on a chair beside the desk, sipped his hot tea and lifted his gaze to Gawain: "Your physical age is only thirty-seven—still quite young."

"Thirty-seven is an age not suited for snowball fights in the yard with juniors," Gawain replied as he moved back behind his desk, sitting in his large chair, and casually picked up the teacup in front of him, "Having tea in the study is quite nice."

Pittman chuckled: "Too bad it’s a scruffy old man sitting across from you."

Gawain didn’t reply. Instead, he slowly sipped his hot tea, looking at Pittman’s face, which seemed to maintain its playful grin in any situation. After observing for two seconds, he finally spoke: "I heard you solved the technical problems Kamel encountered—that thing is called the artificial nerve cord, right?"

"Yes, a product of Druid technology combined with alchemical engineering—something not easily conceived by most people."

"Even most Druids wouldn’t think of something like that," Gawain stated calmly, "It’s technology from the Eternal Sleepers, strictly speaking, created by the fallen Druids of the Oblivion Association and then passed to the Eternal Sleepers, where their biochemical engineers later improved the nerve interfacing technology."

Pittman’s expression finally showed a hint of surprise, then he shook his head with a helpless smile: "I thought you didn’t know these things. Since you do, why not tell Kamel? Just to make me say it?"

"No, I don’t like using this way to test or investigate my subordinates. The current situation is just an accident for me," Gawain said frankly. "The reason I didn’t tell Kamel is that this technology is inhumane and has significant risks: implanting an artificial nerve cord can drastically alter the recipient’s personality, even leading to mental breakdown."

"...Indeed, the artificial nerve cord is quite an uncontrollable thing," Pittman nodded, "It seems you do know many secrets about the Eternal Sleepers and the Oblivion Association... I’m curious, after being exposed to their knowledge, what do you think of them?"

"They possess highly advanced technologies in specific fields and seem to carry a kind of mission. I even suspect they believe they are saving the world—from some of their grand plans. But this neither changes the fact that their methods are sinful nor proves that their goals are correct," Gawain placed the teacup on the table and spoke unhurriedly, "If the direction is wrong, the more knowledge, the more reactionary; if the means are wrong, more effort means more evil."

In that instant, a change flickered in Pittman’s eyes. Gawain couldn’t quite discern the cause or content of that change, but at that moment, he truly felt that Pittman’s playful and nonchalant facade briefly receded, and a heavy, desolate aura appeared on this small old man—but only for a very brief moment.

"You are right, direction and means..." Pittman smiled, his smile filled with self-mockery, "Talent certainly exists, some people are born able to do things others can’t easily achieve - you pointed out the key so effortlessly, yet I only managed to grasp the meaning of these two sentences after struggling for most of my life."

"These words weren’t created by me, they are the wisdom of predecessors, I’m just borrowing and adapting them," Gawain said, his face showing a serious expression, "Pittman, it’s time to be open and honest."

Pittman met Gawain’s gaze, and after a brief moment of silence, he finally spoke in a low voice: "I was a withered priest of the Oblivion Association, once."

So it was.

Gawain gently exhaled; he had suspected this several times before, but since Pittman hadn’t mentioned it voluntarily, he had refrained from asking. Today, with the pretext of "artificial nerve cord technology," his suspicion was finally confirmed.

However, before he could speak, Pittman continued, "I was also a Nightmare Mentor of the Eternal Sleepers - once."

A follower of the Oblivion Association and a member of the Eternal Sleepers?!

This was entirely beyond Gawain’s expectations, and he stared, amazed, at the old man with a face full of wrinkles before him: "You joined two sects at the same time?!"

"I joined the Oblivion Association first," Pittman shook his head, "That was when I was very young - to be honest, I initially wanted to be an orthodox Druid, and I was truly from the Forest Heart faction, but fate is particularly unreasonable... there was a famine in the town, caused by a magic power erosion-induced decrease in production, regular Druid spells were ineffective, even my mentor eventually left, everyone was helpless, until an outsider Druid resolved the issue, so I followed that new Druid, becoming his apprentice - later I found out he was a Shepherd of the Forest in the Oblivion Association."

"And then you joined the Oblivion Association?" Gawain looked into Pittman’s eyes, unable to hide his curiosity, "How did you then join the Eternal Sleepers?"

"I originally believed the technology of the Oblivion Association could heal the land, solve famine, let me truly learn knowledge, but later I found they were merely a bunch of lunatics, so I took advantage of an exchange opportunity to join the Eternal Sleepers - the Memory Archive of the Eternal Sleepers contained the richest knowledge in the world, although I’m not skilled in Dream Spells, I’m very interested in their other knowledge..."

"And then you found they were another group of lunatics," Gawain knew Pittman’s youthful experiences couldn’t be so simple, but it was clear the other party didn’t want to elaborate further, so he also moved past the topic, "You left the Eternal Sleepers? And then?"

Pittman shrugged: "And then? Then I encountered a lousy little thief, followed him and adopted a chattering half-elf with no respect for the elderly."

Gawain was speechless, then chuckled: "I thought you might also join the Sons of the Storm, after all, you’ve already joined two of the three major sects."

Sons of the Storm...

Pittman’s face briefly revealed a look of reminiscence, before he shook his head with a pained smile: "I actually looked for them, but couldn’t swim, got seasick, and most importantly, couldn’t get used to eating sashimi, so I didn’t end up going."

Gawain: "..."

This seemingly insincere, deceitful, cheeky, disrespectful old Druid once had a dramatic life.

Although Gawain was indeed interested in Pittman’s unknown and dramatic past, judging by the old man’s demeanor, he was clearly trying to avoid that part of his life, so he merely nodded: "You’ve left them now."

"I’ve left many years ago," Pittman said calmly, "To be honest, I’ve mostly forgotten I was once one of them, when the modified human exploded at the dock, it gave me quite a scare, I thought they finally came for me - but it turned out that compared to me, a small figure who defected halfway, you, a historical figure right out of legends, caught their attention more."

"I’m curious about one thing, are you really just a level three low-ranking Druid?" Gawain examined Pittman up and down, "Your true..."

Pittman smiled blandly: "Two defections, there is a price to pay - now I really am just a level three low-ranking Druid."

"...I see." Gawain accepted the other’s explanation, and from the floor-to-ceiling window behind him, a growing cheer from the courtyard drifted in.

He asked, "Does Amber know about your past?"

"She doesn’t know, nor do I want her to know," Pittman shook his head, "Twice joining a dark sect is not a glorious experience, although I believe I didn’t do anything terribly wrong, I still want to separate this past from Amber’s life - her life should be unrelated to these dark aspects, she should be carefree, without worries, not living days of fear, and receive good training and education..."

"Let me put it this way, she’s made sneaking and lock-picking part of her daily routine, even sneaking into someone else’s ancestral tomb to pry open coffin boards, I think your education and that of her adoptive father might not be very good..."

Pittman pondered: "...You do make a certain point."