Chapter 1067: The Emissaries of Talrond
As Melita and her companions sped across the Sacred Spirit Plains, surrounded by the relentless pounding of death metal—albeit reluctantly—the news of this unusual delegation’s impending arrival had long since reached Gawain in the southern city of Cecil.
The initial report came from the Northern Harbor, where the returning sea witches had reestablished contact with the Empire’s neural network and brought word of the dragons’ visit. This intelligence was soon officially confirmed by Victoria Wilde, the Grant Duchess of the Northern Territories.
After reading the briefing detailing Cassandra’s exploration team’s bizarre experiences over the past weeks, even the well-traveled and knowledgeable Gawain was left stunned.
In the study of Cecil Palace, Gawain set down his pen after reviewing documents and glanced toward Tyr, who was curled up napping in the corner. He couldn’t help but ask, “Do sea witches generally have a poor sense of direction?”
Tyr lazily shifted her tail and half-opened one eye, bleary with sleep. “That’s a stereotype… We sea witches are natural travelers. It’s extremely rare for us to lose our way—how many sea witches have you actually met?”
“I can understand occasional disorientation,” Gawain replied, shaking his head, “but crossing the Storm Sea and swimming straight to Talrond? That’s a bit much. And then swimming the wrong way, ending up in the human world? That’s beyond just a bad sense of direction.”
Tyr yawned widely, apparently finishing her third or fourth nap of the day. She propped herself up with her serpentine tail, stretched around the bookshelf, and peered at the map on the other side. Her gaze swept over the seas and lands at the map’s edge. “Isn’t that a good thing? I swam the wrong way and helped establish contact with Antavien. Cassandra swam the wrong way and unexpectedly brought news from Talrond. Sometimes, you have to be flexible in your thinking—trying unknown paths can lead to surprising rewards.”
Listening to her, Gawain gave the deep-sea siren a once-over. “You don’t make much sense, but you certainly have guts when you argue like that.”
Before Tyr could respond, Gawain shook his head thoughtfully and looked at the incomplete “Known World Map.” “It’s hard to imagine such a shocking upheaval has taken place in Talrond in just over a month. Honestly, I never expected things to develop this way.”
“Very few truly grasp the magnitude of this upheaval,” Tyr said, wagging the tip of her tail with a seriousness Gawain had never seen before. “For most, even if they know about the dragon kingdom, it’s just dinner table gossip. Talrond is so far away—almost otherworldly. Even though it’s the highest crest in the wave of this era, how can tiny droplets like us sense the ocean’s entire turmoil?” She paused, then added, “But you’re different. You stand at the center of this turning point, so your perception naturally differs from ordinary people’s.”
Gawain stared at her in surprise for a few seconds before saying, “It’s rare to hear you say something so profound.”
“Thinking about these things is exhausting. I’d rather spend my extra energy sleeping,” Tyr shrugged. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t think about them. I’ve lived a long time—you probably forget that sometimes. Even if I spend ninety percent of that time asleep, the remaining ten percent is enough to witness the rise and fall of entire civilizations.”
Curious, Gawain asked, “…What’s gotten into you today? Why so sentimental all of a sudden?”
“This morning, a friend of mine in Antavien sent me a message through a psionic song: after applying the arcane energy conduit to the reactor, we finally managed to ignite the core fusion tower. It only lit up for a moment, but it’s something we haven’t achieved in a million years,” Tyr said, smiling. “Even with power restored, repairing the ship is still a distant dream, but my sisters are greatly encouraged. Now, among the sea witches’ songs, there’s an unprecedented whisper: ‘The turning point is coming.’”
Gawain repeated the phrase instinctively: “The turning point is coming…”
“Yes. You say things like that often, but for sea witches, this phrase carries special meaning,” Tyr explained slowly. “Land-dwelling races often say ‘the times have changed’—every civilization says it many times, with every technological advance or regime change. It seems like your eras shift every few hundred years. But for sea witches, our era hasn’t changed in over a million years. For the dragons, it’s probably the same.”
Gawain sighed quietly after a long pause. “No wonder you’re so moved after hearing the news from Talrond.”
“Who knows… maybe I just had enough sleep and some idle time to daydream,” Tyr said, stretching her tail, which had gone stiff and wrinkled from napping. “Anyway, Cassandra and the emissaries from Talrond should be arriving soon. I think the Rock Fortress reported their entry about two hours ago.”
Gawain nodded. “The city is ready. By my calculations, they should be arriving any moment now…”
Before he could finish, the magical network terminal beside his desk buzzed to life. Once the connection was established, the holographic image of Solderin appeared. “Your Majesty, we’ve detected the dragon group crossing the Kant region. They’re here.”
“Excellent!” Gawain smiled. “Let’s prepare the full reception for our guests.”
The dragon group pierced through the clouds, soaring across the sky. The rolling hills and majestic rivers of the southern region stretched out before Melita’s enormous eyes. At last, she spotted the river quietly flowing north of the Dark Mountains, and at the horizon, the famed arcane industrial city spanning the river came into view. As the sunlit towers gleamed and floating crystals shimmered in the air, a wave of relief washed over her.
But what pleased her most was that the incessant, almost terrifying “music” on her back had finally stopped. Even now, recalling Cassandra’s powerful singing made her wings tremble.
In that moment, she had nearly been swept away by Cassandra’s voice. Only sheer willpower had prevented a disaster. Had that “music” continued any longer… well, it was hard to say what might have happened.
Lost in thought, Melita heard the deep-sea witch’s voice again from behind her. “Whoa—look, look! That’s Cecil City, right? I’ve never seen it with my own eyes before, only glimpsed it on human magic network broadcasts…”
“Well, this time you get to explore it properly,” Melita replied absentmindedly. “That city has many wonders. I’m sure even immortal beings would find plenty of points of interest there.”
Cassandra’s curiosity was piqued. “Oh? Like what?”
Melita hesitated, struggling to gather her scattered thoughts. “Like… the dragon breeding farms in Cecil…”
Cassandra sensed something was off. As they drew closer to Cecil, Melita’s mood grew tense. “What’s wrong? You seem strange.”
“Nothing,” Melita shook her head, regaining composure. “I just remembered the last time I left this city. I never imagined I’d return in this form, in this role… I doubt Gawain Cecil ever imagined what would happen afterward.”
For a moment, Cassandra was silent, unsure how to respond. Then she broke the quiet: “Ah! Something’s flying up over there—is that a welcome for us?”
Melita looked ahead, and her fellow dragons around her lifted their heads simultaneously. Against the sinking sun, they saw the city’s lights gradually flicker on from the outskirts inward. The artificial glow, layered like starlight falling to earth, guided their path. Several flying machines with inverted cone bodies and dragon-wing structures ascended from the city center. Moments later, two beams of directional light rose near the mechanical bridge over the Whitewater River. The hovering machines spread out in the sky, their bomb racks replaced by massive crystal devices. Bathed in the city’s lights, the crystals began to glow softly.
Suddenly, a colossal holographic projection, hundreds of meters tall, appeared above the city.
The message was simple, written in both Draconic and the common human tongue: WELCOME, FRIENDS.
Melita stared in astonishment, momentarily speechless. The dragons beside her shared her shock—they hadn’t expected such a formal reception in a human kingdom, nor to see their homeland’s language so far from Talrond.
Instinctively, Melita blinked, wanting to record the scene, but then remembered the Omega Network was offline and most of her implants were disabled or removed. She shook her head, feeling a pang of regret.
Almost simultaneously, the city lights shifted: as the dragons entered the airspace, some lights dimmed or went out, while others brightened, tracing clear lines and arrows on the darkening ground. The flying machines creating the holograms hummed closer, circling the dragons and signaling with simple light patterns.
This was the human-provided landing guidance.
Melita blinked again, then noticed a flying machine approaching her side. She sensed the pulse of a communication spell and instinctively connected. A voice came through: “Welcome to Cecil City—this is Sujina, commander of the Dragonborn Special Forces. I will be providing navigation assistance.”
Melita was a moment slow to respond. “Dragonborn… you’re Dragonborn?”
“Yes,” the voice replied with a hint of amusement, “but here, I’m just a soldier on duty. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Dragon from Talrond.”
“I… am pleased to meet you as well,” Melita said, feeling unexpectedly flustered. “Thank you for your help, Commander Sujina.”
The flying machines lowered their altitude, and behind them, a small group of seven dragons slowed their flight, heading toward the city’s landing zone.
Throughout the city, countless eyes were fixed skyward. Every permitted gathering spot teemed with swaying figures, and as the dragon flock finally appeared on the horizon at dusk, waves of awe rippled through every district.
The people of Cecil—worldly and well-traveled—once again gained an experience few other nations could claim: they were witnessing, with their own eyes, pureblood dragons from beyond human civilization flying in formation over a human city for the very first time. And unlike the tales spun by bards, these dragons were not the “evil wyrms” who came to plunder treasure and claim land. No—they were ambassadors from another civilized realm, here to forge friendship with humanity.
Of course, the people of Cecil had seen dragons before. The imperial capital often hosted dragonborn students clad in steel wings, practicing flight. Because of this, the city’s residents greeted the arrival of the great dragons with astonished exclamations rather than panic. Yet, on the other hand, these pureblood dragons from Taldron were vastly different from the dragonborn they were used to seeing. Any human with normal eyesight could tell that the dragons soaring above the city were far larger, more majestic, and bore wings healthier and stronger than any they had ever seen.
These were true dragons.
Gawain stood before the city’s largest square—the Pioneer Plaza—on a raised platform, watching as the dragons gradually drew closer. The sky was nearing the end of twilight, and the legendary sky sovereigns seemed bathed in a soft golden glow. They came from the northern horizon, guided steadily by a series of navigation lights and escort squads, until they reached the plaza’s airspace and began descending one by one.
Around the square, reporters and photographers from every newspaper and magical broadcast scrambled frantically, pouring all their skill into capturing every detail of the dragons’ arrival. Citizens lucky enough to witness the event firsthand waved flags enthusiastically, both adults and children caught in a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation.
Gawain took a deep breath, then widened his eyes, scanning the flock carefully for a familiar figure. After several passes, he finally spotted her.
A blue dragon landed, her movements rough but steady. Just as she settled, she turned her head, locking eyes with Gawain.
She nodded toward the platform.
(End of chapter)