Chapter 1299: The Young People Leaving Home
After wandering for six centuries, the adventurer finally returned to his long-lost homeland. He began the arduous task of starting from scratch, trying to make this unfamiliar land his home. Meanwhile, as information about the “Sentinels” began circulating among the upper echelons of the Alliance member states, a tense atmosphere gradually spread throughout the mortal world. The northern region was entering its coldest season of the year—the chill of midwinter had arrived—and the three great empires intensified their operations against the wastelands.
On the Holy Spirit Plains, the sharp blast of a whistle shattered the silence. An armored train, painted in iron-black and bristling with heavy main cannons, slowly gained speed under the power of its repulsion engines, heading toward the mountain pass to the south. The train was loaded with supplies, equipment, and spirited imperial soldiers. Snow swirled in the wind, some flakes spiraling through the barriers beside the tracks, striking the train’s thick armor and reinforced crystal windows. Amid the flurry, the emblem of the Empire’s Second Armored Division was faintly visible.
In Cecil City, a convoy of armored personnel carriers rumbled down the wide concrete avenue of Knight Street. These magically powered vehicles carried soldiers clad in second-generation magitech armor. Brightly colored banners fluttered from the front of each vehicle. Along the roadside, citizens bundled in thick winter clothes crowded the sidewalks and alleyways, bidding farewell to their children and loved ones bound for the wasteland front.
Beyond the regular army, a special unit marched alongside. Their armored vehicles bore the insignia of the Holy Light: heavy turret armor etched with a powerful iron fist bathed in radiant light. Scrolls inscribed with sacred prayers were wrapped around the main guns and armored skirts of these tanks and APCs, reinforced with stout rivets. Behind these “holy war machines” moved a blessed battalion in solemn silence. The White Knights wore heavy powered armor, their magic-driven suits thudding with each step as if shaking the earth itself. The battle mages wore mechanical gauntlets and wielded combat staves, a faint glow surrounding them.
These forces were moving toward the southern military station, where a “Iron Scepter” light armored train awaited on the platform. After a brief farewell ceremony, they would board under their officers’ command, pass through the mountain passes of the Dark Range and the railways of the Black Forest, and head to the foot of the Grant Wall. There, they would be assigned to several forward bases, becoming part of the ironclad battle line.
One block away, inside a tall dormitory building, a pair of eyes withdrew from the window’s view. The owner had a neat, short haircut and distinct Typhon features. She turned to her desk, where a tall figure with long golden hair was bent over, diligently writing. Unable to resist, she asked, “Marianne, are you writing home again?”
“Every week,” the Typhon exchange student named Marianne replied without looking up. “It’s not the first time you’ve seen me do this.”
“Well, I mean, with how convenient magical network communications are now, why don’t you just send messages directly? Or pay a bit more and even have ‘face-to-face’ conversations with them,” the short-haired girl said, giving her somewhat rigid roommate a strange look. “Writing letters is so slow, especially with all this snow. Sometimes it takes ten days or more for a letter to reach Aldern.”
“Magical network communications have their advantages, but letters have their own meaning—though you wouldn’t understand that,” Marianne paused her writing and glanced at her roommate. “Kari, what have you seen?”
“I saw another unit marching down the main road, heading south. They’re going to the wasteland front too,” Kari said, a hint of emotion in her voice. “I wonder what it’s like back home. Does Aldern have knights and mages gathering like this, marching down Empire Avenue to the wasteland?”
“Of course. In fact, my brother was sent to General Andersa’s new fortress two weeks ago,” Marianne said calmly. “And after I return, I’ll apply to go to the border as well. I’ve already written the application.”
“…Going home,” Kari murmured, momentarily dazed. “Yeah, we’re almost done with our studies here… It’s incredible how much has happened in such a short time. I still remember last winter, when we built barricades in the hallway outside. You stood watch all night on the dorm roof with two students. Every day, we worried about angry citizens attacking the dorms. Our only security was those piles of desks and chairs. Looking back, it feels like a dream.”
“Yes, like a surreal dream. Now Typhon and Cecil are allies. We’ll even fight side by side on the wasteland border,” Marianne nodded gently. “Kari, have you decided what you want to do after you go home? I heard you still haven’t filled out your graduation plans.”
“I…” Kari hesitated, instinctively glancing out the window. Snowflakes drifted down, blurring the view. The unit heading to the front had vanished into the white haze. The classical castle-like towers and library of the Imperial Academy were shrouded in the thickening snowfall. “I haven’t decided yet. My father wants me to inherit his title early. My mother hopes I’ll enter the Parliament—she says there are many opportunities for young people there now. But my grandfather strongly opposes it. He just wants me to be a quiet ‘golden canary’ at home, staying out of politics…”
The noble exchange student, caught in the confusion of impending graduation, sighed. “Sometimes I envy you. Your path is clear and certain. From the start, you decided to live your life as an imperial knight, and all your family supports you.”
“That’s not really like you,” Marianne said quietly, looking into Kari’s eyes. “You’re cheerful and optimistic. Even last year, when we built those barricades, you were more hopeful than you are now.”
Kari stuck out her tongue, unsure what to say. Slowly, she returned to the window, head bowed as she gazed down at the academy grounds. The old snow hadn’t melted, and fresh flakes were already covering the flowerbeds and paths below. Amid the falling snow, she spotted a small figure running along the stone path outside the corridor. The figure had light gray hair, small and childlike, clutching a heavy-looking bundle.
Perhaps the weight of the bundle threw off her balance, or maybe the path was too slippery. The small figure suddenly faltered, about to slip sideways. Kari instinctively waved her right hand, and a strong gust of wind rose along the path, steadying the gray elf girl. Startled, the girl looked around like a frightened rabbit. After a few seconds, she realized what had happened, sensed the magic, looked up toward the dorm window, and waved vigorously at Kari.
“Well, I guess for some people, the meaning of ‘writing letters’ can’t be replaced by magical network communications,” Kari said, waving back from the window. Muttering to herself as she turned away, she added, “That little gray elf princess seems to be off to mail another letter. I don’t even write letters home that heavy in a whole year…”
Outside the longhouse, the cold wind howled. The northern winter wrapped the gray elf capital, Windsong City, in its icy embrace. But the newly installed centralized heating system, completed last year, was finally proving its worth. Winter was no longer a long ordeal of hoarding firewood and shivering indoors. In this ancient yet youthful gray elf royal city, the bustling trade market thrived well into the late month of Mistfall—and if conditions allowed, it might even extend into the early days of the biting Coldmoon.
Wenna Whitebloom, draped in a white cloak, walked through the recently completed winter market accompanied by Captain Morilina of the guard. This market, designed for the cold season, featured high roofs and a heat exchange system directly connected to the municipal heating center. This advanced technology from the Cecil Empire created an astonishingly spring-like “warmhouse” in the dead of winter. Merchants from all corners of the world gathered here, bringing goods unimaginable to the old gray elf traders via the northern railway and the transcontinental sea routes. Every day, these goods turned into vast wealth.
“I never imagined the world could be like this,” Captain Morilina said, her voice hoarse yet soothing, her feline-human hybrid face full of wonder. “Outside, the snow never stops. The entire Taemul Forest and the whole north are frozen wastelands. Yet the number of merchants and travelers in the taverns is only down by twenty percent, and that’s after some roads had to close due to the weather.”
“In distant Cecil, it’s even more astonishing,” Wenna replied casually. “I heard their scholars are considering reviving a Talrond technology called the ‘Ecological Dome’—a massive magical shield covering an entire region, inside which they create artificial weather systems…”
“Wow, that sounds incredible,” Morilina exclaimed, flicking her furry tail. “Is that something Miss Mery described in her letters to you?”
“To be honest, I’d rather not think about those ‘family letters,’ but yes, that’s what she mentioned,” Wenna sighed. “Since she went to study in Cecil, I’ve almost memorized every street and lamppost in that human city.”
This was private family business of the gray elf clan leader, and as an “external guard,” Morilina naturally refrained from commenting. She only calculated the time and said thoughtfully, “Miss Mery must be close to finishing her studies?”
“Not yet, another year to go. She recently passed the advanced runic logic certification and will intern at the Imperial Rune Institute,” Wenna said. “If all goes well, she’ll return to Windsong City in a year as a senior runic scholar—Mery will become the highest-level runic logic expert in the entire Ogure tribe nation. Our own rune research will finally have hope.”
“…I don’t really understand all this technical stuff, but it sounds like a good thing,” Morilina said, shouldering her beloved battle axe as she pictured the runic scholars going about their daily work. Her tail flicked back and forth behind her in a lazy rhythm. “By the way, I heard that the leaders Wycliffe and Camilla are sending troops east of the Holy Mountain. Do you know anything about that?”
“Of course,” Wenna replied. “We’re reinforcing the ancient defenses facing the Gondor Wastelands. The human and orc armies form the backbone of the tribal nations’ forces—they always lead from the front in military campaigns, as they have for centuries. The Grey Elves aren’t known for their combat skills, but Windsong City will soon deploy our own magically enhanced units. The fairies and spirit folk are preparing as well. Their golems and shadow walkers haven’t been committed to large-scale battle in hundreds of years, but their iron fists and blades remain formidable.”
“Those ancient defenses…” Morilina glanced down at her own palm, covered in soft fur, slowly curling her fingers into a fist before flicking out her sharp claws. “Tifon, Silver, and Cecil are all sending reinforcements to the wasteland front. I’ve heard the Highland Kingdom’s mountain troops, trained by elves, are incredibly strong too. But we’ve enjoyed peace in these mountains for centuries. The fiercest battles our soldiers have faced were just clearing out monsters that escaped from old nests. Can those ancient lines really hold back the legendary abominations now?”
“The main forces pushing into the wastelands are the three great empires,” Wenna said calmly. “Other border nations only have to deal with small groups of monsters that slip out during the campaign. Though Wycliffe and the others are a bit worried, the situation shouldn’t be too dire. The elves’ grand walls still stand, and those abominations can only roam out in small numbers.”
“Let’s hope so,” Morilina murmured, her gaze drifting over the bustling market before them—the merchants, the banners and crests fluttering in the breeze. Her voice was low and resonant. “We’ve only just begun to witness this flourishing prosperity…”
“No one wants this prosperity to end prematurely, and no one wants to fight the monsters of the wastelands,” Wenna Whitebloom said softly. “But the world doesn’t bend to our wishes. Thriving commerce and stable markets rest on strong security. Only by surviving can we even talk about economic prosperity.”
Morilina listened thoughtfully to the small but sharp-witted Grey Elf leader beside her. Just then, a tall, dark-haired human appeared in her line of sight, striding toward them.
“Mr. Schwark,” Wenna said, spotting the approaching figure. She recognized her human advisor and smiled. “Is something the matter?”
“Miss Meri’s letter has arrived, ma’am,” Advisor Schwark said with a slight bow. “It’s already on your desk.”
Wenna’s smile froze instantly.
After a moment, she tilted her head to the side, a look of helplessness crossing her face. “Morilina, you know, judging by how fast the letters travel and how quickly Meri writes, the moment a letter lands on my desk means she’s already rushing off to send another package. So right now, I’m feeling twice the pressure…”
“But in reality, you only have to read one letter at a time,” Morilina said seriously, correcting her.
“Yeah, one ‘letter,’” Wenna muttered through clenched teeth, looking up at her advisor. “Mr. Schwark, do you think there’s a magic that can instantly ‘scan’ a huge amount of text into a spell circle, then extract just the useful sentences, and instantly implant them into my brain?”
“…Ma’am, let’s be realistic. Even speed-reading magic has its limits.”
“Right, I thought so too…”
(End of chapter)