Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 554 - 553: Envoy

The long and cold winter has finally come to an end.

The fog that lasted throughout the winter has finally begun to retreat from the Aldernon Great Plains, and the entire world seems to become clearer with the arrival of spring. The daily wind is still cold, but no longer as piercingly icy as in previous days. The snow begins to melt, the ice turns into streams, and the rivulets formed by the melting snow and ice flow down from the black rooftops and spires of Aldernon, drenching the entire city in mist—in the wake of the new drainage system built more than a decade ago, these melted snow waters can smoothly enter the underground sewers, so people need not worry that these additional "streams" will damage the foundations of buildings. Thus, the melting of city snow is no longer an annoying issue, but rather an unusual landscape.

A black carriage, adorned with the Wendell clan’s emblem, rolls along the imperial capital avenue, its wheels making creaky sounds on the damp stone pavement. Duke Ferdinand Wendell sits inside the carriage, watching the scene on the road through the window shutter’s openings.

It is early morning, and the sun has just lit up the streets. Usually, at this time, almost no one would be seen moving on the streets, yet Duke Ferdinand’s view contains groups of civilians—dressed in dull gray thick clothes, wearing felt hats or woolen caps, walking in one direction. In the chilly early spring wind, these people shiver slightly but march hastily, without pause.

"Textile workers..." Duke Ferdinand mutters softly, "out so early."

The butler, who has followed him for years, sits on the seat opposite in the carriage. This loyal old friend explains: "To encourage new factories, the emperor has issued a beneficial decree, allowing vehicles transporting cotton to enter the city at dawn free of tax. Hence, the textile factories start work very early."

"Just to start an hour earlier..."

The old duke grumbles and can’t help but glance outside the window once more.

He sees more textile workers emerging from their homes, heading towards the factories, and then he sees vehicles with the empire’s emblem and the Constructers’ Guild emblem rushing past, vehicles transporting Magic Web parts...

On Platinum Avenue, he sees an old warehouse leveled to the ground, belonging to Viscount Mori, who has decided to build a spinning mill on land previously occupied by the warehouse; on Iron Lily Street, he sees a tall chimney spewing thick smoke, the new Pyrostone Acid Plant processing Fertility Dust that can be used as fertilizer...

The pungent smoky dust from the Pyrostone Acid Plant’s chimney can almost be smelled here—of course, Duke Ferdinand knows it is just his illusion.

That chimney is a hundred meters tall, the smoke dissipates only in the sky, not affecting the ground.

Yet the old duke can’t help but frown.

Factories, Magic Web, boilers, towering chimneys, the boisterous "investment era"... It’s as if they’ve sprung up overnight, suddenly everywhere, seemingly involving everyone, seemingly everyone jubilant.

The old duke, having spent most of his life in the empire’s core circles, has never seen anything develop so fiercely and suddenly. He considers himself not a conservative, but these new things booming fiercely... always give him an uncomfortable feeling.

"Lately, even what the Noble Congress discusses all day have become topics of building factories and cotton bills," Duke Ferdinand shakes his head, "that textile factory opened by Viscount Hemir has garnered many investors."

"After all, the fabric from new textile mills is plentiful and good," the butler remarks, "I heard Lady Mila also wants to start a textile factory, but can’t get any machinery—the machines are simply insufficient."

"I’ve seen the fabric they produce," Duke Ferdinand remarks with some disdain, "it’s quite sturdy, but unfortunately coarse, utterly lacking any taste."

The butler spreads his hands: "...But for ordinary people, that’s already good fabric, sir."

Duke Ferdinand frowns, after a brief silence, he can only sigh slightly: "Perhaps I’m just getting old."

"You are still an important pillar of this country," the butler says, "the emperor needs you."

The butler’s words go unanswered by Ferdinand, he simply looks forward, the towering walls of the Obsidian Palace now close at hand.

It’s said that several special messengers have arrived in the imperial capital, bringing news from the southern continent, and they hold noble statuses; the emperor suddenly summons him to the palace, likely for this matter.

The empire is growing ever prosperous, everything appears to be developing rapidly.

Yet somehow, Ferdinand Wendell always feels a vague unease.

The Obsidian Palace.

This towering palace stands as ever, in the heart of this empire. Though it’s just the "new royal palace" built two hundred years ago, its somber color and solemn, steady style still carry a heavy sense of lasting centuries. As Ferdinand enters the palace, his previously gloomy, uneasy mood gradually settles.

He walks towards the reception room where the emperor resides, the crisp sound of his boots striking the marble floor echoing lightly, his steps pausing as he passes "Nightingale Hall."

An old Mage, draped in a black robe, with a gloomy expression and a somber aura, comes walking from the opposite side. An unpleasant rustling or crawling sound accompanies the old Mage’s steps, while a young female Mage, seemingly in her early twenties, follows behind him.

"Good morning, Duke."

The old mage stopped not far away, slightly bowed his head in greeting, his voice hoarse, as if even his vocal cords were beginning to corrode.

Duke Ferdinand nodded slightly with the reservedness and pride befitting the upper aristocracy, and courteously said, following the due etiquette for the archMage before him, "Good morning, Master Daniel."

The two were about to pass by each other, but Ferdinand suddenly spoke again, "Master Daniel, I am glad to see you willing to return to this place—Lady Windsor Maple must feel the same."

"I am also very glad."

The old mage and his student walked away, and Duke Ferdinand watched their backs disappear into the depths of the corridor, unable to suppress a slight shake of his head.

Lady Windsor Maple’s mentor, once a member of the Royal Mage Association, archMage Daniel Fred, once a talented powerful mage, but his temperament changed drastically due to research setbacks and failed promotions, self-exiling himself. No one could have imagined such a person, who left the Empire’s highest magical institution, would one day return. Recently, this archMage has become a prominent figure in the imperial capital, not only shining in the Imperial Construction Association but also becoming the guest of many aristocrats—those people seem to have forgotten the desolate and embarrassing state of Daniel Fred when he left the imperial capital years ago, just because they saw the astounding profits from the textile mills, they all flocked around.

Duke Ferdinand lamented the ugly appearance of those minor aristocrats in the face of profit, then walked through the corridor to the emperor’s reception room.

After being announced, the door to the reception room opened, and Ferdinand Wendell walked into the room. He first saw Emperor Rosetta Augustus sitting in the main seat, then his gaze fell on those slender, high-spirited people of another race.

Golden hair, pointed ears, more slender and smooth facial features than humans.

They were elves, from the southern Silver Empire.

As expected, just like the rumors before, the Empire welcomed a batch of special "envoys," but why did these elves come?

It was not easy for them to come to Typhon—that was half a continent’s journey!

Although some questions arose in his mind, Duke Ferdinand showed no hint of surprise—he kept all his thoughts contained within and courteously nodded to the elves, then he came in front of Emperor Rosetta, "Your Majesty, I respond to your summons."

"Sit down, Ferdinand," Rosetta Augustus nodded slightly, "As you can see, we have some guests—these elves have brought very important news."

Ferdinand looked at those elves—each one was exceptionally beautiful. To be honest, the humans with face blindness would find it difficult to distinguish between the genders when seeing elves, Ferdinand could only judge that the elf sitting opposite him was a lady based on attire: "Lady, pleased to meet you—I am Ferdinand Wendell, the emperor’s advisor."

"Shiva Farwalker, the messenger of the Silver Queen Belsetia," the beautiful elf spoke—thank heaven, she really was a lady, "We bear an important mission: The Silver Empire conveys the most urgent warning to the human kingdoms, the condition of the great walls is dire."

Ferdinand Wendell’s eyes instantly sharpened.

After a brief conversation, Ferdinand knew the purpose of these elves and the current situation.

These elves came to warn the human kingdoms. They adhere to the alliance from seven hundred years ago—even though for humans it’s a distant ancient matter—bringing the latest news about the great walls. According to their statement, the deterioration of the great walls has reached an extremely serious stage, even surpassing the extent the Silver Empire could handle, and the unsettling disturbance last winter... was just the beginning of a series of catastrophic events in the future.

As a top aristocratic figure of Typhon, Ferdinand of course knew about last winter’s barrier disturbance—any country with a border in contact with the great walls could observe that disturbance, the flashes and noises that lasted for three days made people along the frontier very nervous, even the western region of the Empire entered a state of emergency for a time, the Winterwolf Legion also dispatched a force to the western border to patrol the movements on the wasteland, but fortunately, it was all a false alarm, the worst did not occur.

Now the envoy from the elves came here, bringing the most unsettling truth: It was not a false alarm.

"We paid a huge price—the elves sacrificed twelve Master Mages and nearly a hundred Ranger warriors, the Highmountain Kingdom sacrificed one-third of a fully staffed Mountain Corps, only then successfully restarted the sentinel towers," said elf Shiva in a calm tone, "But if it breaks again, no amount of lives would suffice."

That was not a false alarm; it was a real disaster.

The worst thing had already happened—it just did not happen in the Typhon people’s heads.

Ferdinand Wendell suddenly felt immense pressure, but he knew that the elf lady before him did not exaggerate or intend to impose pressure, according to his understanding of elves, she should just be stating a fact: This fact doesn’t need any exaggeration to be unsettling enough.

He pondered for a moment, glanced at Emperor Rosetta once more, then looked at the elf, "Then what can we... do?"

"We cannot rebuild the great walls, so the best approach is to enhance it before the barrier completely extinguishes, setting additional defenses, reducing the pressure on the sentinel towers’ core systems to prevent them from complete failure," Shiva stated, "And this requires cooperation and assistance from every country surrounding the barrier."