Chapter 1072: Gathering

Year 3 of Cecil, 15th day of the Month of Revival — the Festival of Revival.

The crucial international conference had finally been scheduled for the sixth day after the Festival of Revival holiday. The proximity of the meeting gave this year’s festival a special significance. Since the beginning of the month, government offices at all levels had launched comprehensive public campaigns, explaining in simple, accessible terms the major global event about to unfold and the empire’s role in it. Even those least informed had caught wind of the news, while the more poetic-minded linked the conference to the spirit of the Month of Revival, nurturing hopeful visions for the future.

As the venerable scholar Gawain Orlando wrote in a recent newspaper editorial: “The world is on the verge of ending its history of division and estrangement. Those who were meant to stand side by side will truly unite this spring. This is the first ray of sunlight after a long winter, warm and full of promise, just like this season itself.”

At the same time, as the conference drew near, this year’s Festival of Revival in Cecil City bore some differences from previous years — more foreign faces appeared in the city, bringing news from distant lands.

In truth, Cecil City had never lacked foreign visitors. As the world’s first magically industrialized city and the first truly open, international metropolis, Cecil’s unparalleled technological treasures and astonishing commercial order had long attracted sharp-eyed travelers seeking knowledge and wealth. Especially after the completion of the empire’s main railway lines, the cost of travel to Cecil had dropped dramatically. Even the gray elves, once rare in the southern regions, had become regular visitors to the imperial capital. It was fair to say that a diverse array of foreigners was one of Cecil’s defining features.

What set this year’s festival apart was the arrival of guests from even more distant places.

In the city center, the shopping streets were festooned with colorful banners and neon lights. Citizens decorated their shops and streets with symbols celebrating the arrival of spring and praying for a prosperous year. Traditional and modern elements blended in a fascinating harmony. Children ran excitedly along the sidewalks, their laughter echoing through every alleyway.

Beneath a white hood, a pair of pale yellow eyes, feline in shape, flickered with interest as they took in the incredible human city. The face around those eyes was covered in soft, dense fur of brown and white, outlining a rugged yet gentle female visage that blended feline and human features. When a street “magician” casually sent a series of colorful light orbs into the sky, drawing cheers from the nearby children, surprise flickered across her cat-like pupils, which widened slightly.

“This is truly incredible,” came a slightly hoarse voice from beneath the hood. “Wenna, I never imagined human mages would be so numerous — even performing magic missile shows for children right on the street.”

A small figure, childlike in stature, stood beside the “feline lady.” Hearing this, she struggled to look up at her nearly two-meter-tall childhood companion. “Camilla, you’re mistaken — that’s not a real mage. He’s probably an entertainer hired by a nearby shop, maybe even an employee. That’s not genuine magic, just low-powered light orbs emitted from a magitech terminal.”

Wenna Whitebloom, leader of the gray elves, shook her head. “The number of mages in the Cecil Empire isn’t greater than ours. If you count our shaman-priests, Cecil actually has fewer mages than Ogure. But their magitech is highly advanced. Anyone holding a magitech terminal is at least equivalent to an apprentice or low-level mage. Of course, I’ve heard the mage population in Typhon is quite large — they might actually have street performers who are real mages.”

Camilla, the tall feline woman, looked surprised. “You know a lot — didn’t you say gray elves usually only deal with the western Cecil people and don’t know much about the human empire as a whole? Yet you even know quite a bit about the Typhon folks.”

Wenna sighed. “Well, I haven’t had much contact with humans in the east, but don’t forget, Meri is studying here in this city. Just in the second half of last year, she wrote me dozens of letters — you wouldn’t believe how detailed those letters are. I can even piece together the wear patterns on every cobblestone in this city from her descriptions.”

Camilla’s expression shifted to one of shock and admiration, mixed with skepticism. “Seriously? Then why don’t you show me?”

Wenna paused, then looked up at the orc leader before her. “Camilla… has anyone ever told you your sense of humor is… problematic?”

Camilla’s face turned serious. “No, my humor is quite strong among orcs — my people call me the ‘humorous and cheerful queen.’”

Wenna: “…Well, if you say so.”

Camilla was a bit baffled but sensed no anger from her friend, so she quickly shrugged it off and casually said, “Aren’t we going to visit Meri today? It’s been a long time since I last saw her. The last time was at the Festival of the Ancestors — she was only this tall then…”

The orc leader bent down to gesture, but soon realized she wasn’t low enough and squatted instead. “…About this tall.”

“That’s close enough,” Wenna shot her a sharp look. “Stella’s already taller than that!”

“Sorry, I’m a bit bad at judging height,” Camilla said, squatting to meet Wenna’s eye level. “Anyway, are we really not going to see her today?”

“Tomorrow,” Wenna shook her head. “Today, we need to meet with Princess Hetty. Although this isn’t an official state visit, the delegation will have to stop in Cecil City.”

Her gaze drifted past Camilla’s fur-covered face toward the distant street. On a broadcast device at the end of the road, dazzling images played, introducing the upcoming international conference at the Silver Empire’s Outpost 112 and the foreign races attending. Wenna saw faces of gray elves, tall orcs, and short dwarves. “I heard the dwarven delegation has also arrived, but they’re in a different district from us.”

“That elven outpost is on the wasteland border. To get there, you have to cross human lands. This city is the only suitable transport hub in the northern continent. As long as the northern and western envoys have their wits about them, they’ll gather here to transfer. After all, riding the magitech train beats trekking across the wilderness,” Camilla said, then suddenly noticed something and scanned their surroundings. “Wenna, why are some passersby looking at us so curiously?”

“They’re looking at you,” Wenna glanced at her friend. “Orcs don’t often appear in the human world — especially beyond the Holy Spirit Plains. Orcs like you are even rarer than gray elves.”

Camilla’s eyes widened in surprise as she instinctively tugged at her hood. “What! My disguise’s been blown? How did they figure it out?”

Wenna looked behind Camilla. “Your tail’s been wagging outside your cloak the whole time — didn’t you feel the breeze?”

“Oh, that explains it!”

…

In the city’s eastern industrial district, a construction site buzzed with activity. Massive magitech machines roared as workers rushed to make up for delays caused by winter. Though the festive atmosphere was strong, many of Cecil’s projects never fully paused for holidays, given the city’s rapid development.

Baramo Blacksteel, a stocky dwarf with a yellow beard and messy hair, clad in black light armor, stood on a vacant lot, eyes wide as he watched giant mechanical claws lift heavy steel and earth as if they were mere cotton. His face flushed with excitement as he bumped shoulders with his companion.

“Hey! Paladin! These machines look even stronger than our rune-stone giants! No wonder you’re so eager to understand Cecil’s magitech and bring it back to Forge City. You’ve convinced me — I’m going to join you in petitioning King Morton!”

“You’re convinced by the facts, not me,” Paladin Brightstone replied in a booming voice like thunder rolling through the mountains. He, too, was short and stocky, with gray beard and hair. Watching the powerful machines, his eyes gleamed with excitement. “I saw their mechanical ships in Whitefeather Port. I knew then these mighty beasts would change the world. Look at this steel, these stones, and those mechanical beasts — our Ironstone Hills and Forge Mountains are full of places where these machines could be put to use… The only pity is, they don’t come cheap.”

“Yeah, nothing good is cheap in this world. Cecil’s machines and potions, the eastern continent’s ores and crystals, the elves’ medicinal ingredients and rare woods — those who never leave Forge City can’t imagine the costs involved,” Baramo trailed off, then after a moment’s thought, his expression grew serious. “But if King Galvin Cecil’s promises hold true, once we join the alliance, trade costs between nations will drop significantly. Many previously restricted exports will open up, and with the southern and northern continental sea routes reopening, bulk transport costs will plummet.”

“If all those promises come true,” Paladin muttered, “reopening the southern and northern sea routes… The old circumnavigation routes only lasted briefly, but their glory remains in the history books — it was an inspiring era. Bringing those routes back would be a feat, but I’m not too optimistic.”

“Is that so?” Baramo said casually. “This would benefit everyone.”

“Yes, it benefits everyone—after all, none of us currently have ships capable of long ocean voyages. But for the two human empires, it’s a different story. Connecting the circumnavigation route around the continent means not only Cecil but also the Typhon Empire must open their ports and sea lanes, integrating their navigation systems with Cecil’s. I have no doubt those mechanical ships can circle the entire continent, but that depends on whether the Typhons are willing to accept Cecil’s terms. As far as we know, Typhon’s national strength has taken a severe hit; they can barely afford to build a few new ships. If they open their routes now, the entire circumnavigation will undoubtedly fall under Cecil’s control… and when Typhon recovers and tries to reclaim their share of the seas, it won’t be so easy.”

“The greatest regret isn’t missing out on treasure,” Baramo shook his head, “but having the ability to return fully laden, yet being powerless to intervene at the crucial moment and losing the chance… The lessons from the mountains apply just as well at sea.” Then, somewhat surprised, he looked at his companion. “I didn’t expect you to have thought this through so deeply—Typhon and Cecil are separated by thousands of miles from Forge City.”

“But now the whole world is becoming connected,” Paladin Huishanyan spread his hands. “You came here on the magic-powered train—you know those vast distances will inevitably shrink. Few in Forge City look beyond the mountains, but someone has to understand how the world is changing. Luckily, I have plenty of free time, so I can think about the future more than those who spend all day dealing only with stone.”

“The future, huh… it’s not so easy to figure out,” Baramo said, blowing on his mustache, letting the proud hairs flutter. “I feel like my brain’s done enough work for today. To be sharp tomorrow, I think the two of us should go have a drink.”

Paladin’s eyes lit up immediately. “Perfect! And I have a suggestion—let’s skip the usual taverns. The real good stuff isn’t found on those flashy counters. I know a place in town that sells frost resistance potions, and those pack a punch…”

Baramo gave him a skeptical look. “Frost resistance potions? Are you sure? That sounds like some kind of alchemical concoction…”

“Trust my judgment. I’ve tried it in Whitefeather Harbor. Human alchemists are even more brilliant than you think,” Paladin’s eyes gleamed, his voice booming with pride, as if he’d invented the potions himself. “Fifty-two degrees, soy sauce aroma—rumor has it even the northern dragons can’t resist the taste in those little bottles!”

Watching his companion’s nostalgic expression, Baramo had no doubt about his taste in fine drinks. Once his doubts were dispelled, he could only sigh: no wonder Cecil, the rising star of humanity, is so extraordinary—even their potions are something special…

…

As envoys from the North and West gathered at Cecil City, the transit hub, giant eagles from the Silver Empire soared across the clear, high blue sky near the elven outposts northeast of the Gondor Wastelands.

The northern air was much colder than the south. Though the high-altitude winds were shielded by a gentle breeze barrier, a faint chill still seeped through. Belsethia Morningstar squinted slightly, sharing the eagle’s vision as the distant elven watchtower came into view.

The gleaming antennae, streamlined rooftops, and slender towers all pointed skyward, delicate yet exuding a powerful grace.

A massive formation of dozens of giant eagles flew in formation around her, a truly impressive sight.

A voice came through the magical brooch—the elven navigator’s: “Your Majesty, we are approaching Outpost 112. We will land in fifteen minutes.”

“Understood.” Belsethia replied simply, her gaze sweeping across the outpost and beyond.

Cecil lay to the west, Typhon to the east.

“Over seven hundred years…” the Silver Empire’s ruler murmured to herself. “Unconsciously, humanity has been divided for seven centuries… I thought I would never see them come together again.”

(End of chapter)