To be honest, Rebecca truly wasn't suited for matters like these.
Even after Gwayne had explained it to her, she only half-understood at best. But there was one thing she grasped clearly enough: her Ancestor didn't seem particularly fond of the current king, Francis II.
"It's not exactly hostility," Gwayne said casually when Rebecca asked. "But caution? Absolutely necessary."
He cast a glance toward Amber, who stood nearby eavesdropping unabashedly, but continued without hesitation.
"Don't forget," he said, "this is the Second Dynasty. For a royal house whose legitimacy was always questionable, the House of Seawright—descended from the founding heroes—could be seen either as a glorious legacy… or as dangerous relics of the previous age. Even if we harbor no disloyalty, Francis II, as king, has no choice but to be wary of us. And where he is wary— I must be wary as well."
"So… you're planning to make trouble for him?" Rebecca blinked her big eyes and asked.
"No," Gwayne said, shrugging, "not trouble. Just... stirring the waters a little."
Rebecca: "Huh?!"
Gwayne sighed—there was no easy way to explain that to her, so he changed the subject instead.
"Enough about that. Let's get back to business. Amber—"
Before he could even issue a command, Amber raised both hands eagerly. "I know, I know! Go stand guard outside, right? Ahh, the life of a laborer—so tragic..."
"No," Gwayne arched an eyebrow. "You can stay if you want. Or go rest—up to you. You've had a long night already."
Amber looked at him suspiciously.
"Oi, what's gotten into you? Turning soft all of a sudden?"
Nevertheless, she immediately abandoned her complaints and sidled up to the desk, her curiosity plain.
"I'm staying. I want to see what you're about to do. Wait... you're not seriously dividing the inheritance right now, are you?"
Gwayne ignored her, setting the platinum disk he'd retrieved from the secret vault back on the table.
"You said earlier this was a key," Rebecca said, her voice filled with wonder. "Is it to the family's hidden treasure?"
Amber's long ears perked up at once, though she made a show of glancing around the room innocently.
Gwayne chuckled.
"In a sense, yes. It's a treasure hoard—hidden deep in the southern mountains on the borderlands.
But it was originally meant not just for the Seawright family, but for all of Andraste."
He leaned back in his chair, letting his voice drop to a low, storytelling rhythm.
"For today's kingdom, it may no longer seem like much. But back then, for the battered, desperate survivors of the Great Exodus... it was half the wealth of the Expedition itself."
Rebecca's eyes widened.
"In those days, no one knew if we'd survive to see the next sunrise. While fleeing north from the ruins of Gondor, gathering the shattered remnants of humanity, we grew larger, slower, and more visible. Soon, a monstrous horde from the Wastelands caught our trail.
We fought a brutal battle to buy time for the civilians to retreat through the Dark Mountains. When the dust settled, Charles and I realized something critical: the monsters would keep coming. And if we kept dragging all our supplies through the mountains, we'd be doomed. So we made a choice."
Gwayne smiled faintly.
"We took the heaviest, slowest wagons—our richest, most cumbersome stores—and buried them.
We sealed them inside a crumbling border fortress with the strongest enchantments we could weave.
Then we traveled light, swift, and hard to the north. The rest of the story you know: We reached the northern plains, carved out footholds amidst the wilderness, and Charles the First founded the Silver Citadel. But the southern cache... remained, sleeping in the mountains."
Rebecca's voice trembled with awe.
"Why didn't you ever go back for it?"
"Two reasons," Gwayne said. "First, the monsters. After we fled, the corruption spread even further north—those mountains were tainted. Recovering the treasure would've been suicide. Second, we no longer needed it. The Holy Plains and the Northern Ranges provided more wealth than we could have dreamed of. Soon, that hidden hoard became less urgent... and then forgotten by all but a few."
Rebecca stared at the platinum disk.
"But not completely forgotten?"
"Of course not," Gwayne said with a wry smile. "We founders remembered."
He twirled the disk between his fingers.
"It became a sort of sacred trust. Charles and I agreed: each of our houses—the Moravien royal line and the Seawright family—would guard the secret. It would be passed down from heir to heir, generation by generation. If ever the kingdom fell into desperate times again, the Treasure of the South would be there."
Amber scratched her head.
"Let me guess," she said, smirking. "You two cooked this plan up after getting completely hammered, right?"
Gwayne coughed lightly.
"...That might have been involved."
Rebecca stared at her ancestor, struggling to process it all.
"But... I'm the current heir of House Seawright. And I never heard anything about this."
Gwayne sighed.
"Sometimes... important secrets are lost. I died rather suddenly, you know."
Rebecca: "..."
"But it seems Charles' line managed to keep the tradition intact," Gwayne added, recovering his good humor. "And now, here we are."
He held up the platinum key.
"I came to the capital mainly to confirm this was still here. Since it is... it means that, for the last seven hundred years, the cache has remained untouched."
He glanced at Rebecca meaningfully.
"And remember: after the First Dynasty collapsed during the civil war, it was a bastard son who seized the throne—not a true heir."
During the years 635–636, the Royal House had been shattered. The king left no legitimate heirs, and the great dukes perished in rebellion. In the end, a supposed royal bastard was placed upon the throne.
Even if that bastard had royal blood, there was no way he could have known about the hidden hoard.
"And now," Gwayne said, "it's ours to reclaim."
Rebecca's eyes shone.
But then she frowned, hesitating.
"Are we really allowed to just... take it?"
Gwayne arched an eyebrow.
"Who better than us? You are the Seawright heir. And me? I buried it there myself."
He chuckled darkly.
"And unless Charles himself comes clawing out of his tomb, there's no one more qualified to claim it."
Rebecca nodded seriously... then abruptly turned, grabbing Amber's arm.
"You absolutely cannot go robbing royal tombs!"
Amber: "Wha—?!"
The half-elf blinked rapidly, then suddenly realized what Rebecca was imagining and stiffened up.
"You—You're not planning to kill me to keep the secret, are you?!"
Gwayne rolled his eyes.
"If I wanted you dead, you'd be part of the wall already."
Amber clutched her chest, still looking wary.
"But I'm an outsider... now I know about your legendary treasure!"
"First," Gwayne said dryly, "I trust you enough for now. Second... you're not stupid."
He tapped the platinum disk.
"You might think about stealing it—but it can only be activated by the blood of the Moravien or Seawright lines."
"And between us," he added, "good luck finding a living Moravien who remembers how."
Amber immediately straightened up, puffing out her chest.
"Serving a founding hero is the greatest of honors! I, Amber, shall dedicate myself loyally and selflessly to your cause—no need to talk about silly things like money! It's an epic quest!"
Gwayne sighed.
"...So you're saying you'll still want to get paid."
"Naturally! Loyalty doesn't pay for ale."
Gwayne had to admit—he had never seen anyone combine shamelessness and righteousness so seamlessly before.
That night, no further visitors came.
The mouse traps and nails Gwayne had scattered across the windowsills remained unused.
(Not that they would have been much good against shadow-walkers anyway.)
By morning, they were ready.
Rested and prepared, Gwayne led his companions to the gates of the Silver Citadel.
The same court official from yesterday greeted them, and once again, High King Francis II had ordered a grand display—replicating the welcome from the day before with flawless ceremony.
This time, two squads of royal heralds had been dispatched as well, riding along the great avenues surrounding the Royal Quarter and proclaiming with amplified voices:
"Behold! Gwayne Seawright, Founding Grand Duke of Andraste, enters Silver Citadel!"
Clearly, Crown Prince Edmund had conveyed Gwayne's message to his father effectively.
Francis II had decided to give Gwayne every ounce of face he could muster.
What remained to be seen was the king's personal reaction—and Gwayne knew he would soon learn exactly how the old monarch really felt.
Adjusting his cloak, making sure the Pioneer's Sword hung prominently at his hip, Grand Duke Gwayne Seawright stepped forward, head held high, and strode into the heart of the royal palace.