Chapter 305: Communication

Because of a unique tradition among the Silver Elves, about one-third of them choose to travel beyond their homeland after reaching adulthood to broaden their horizons and gain knowledge. Most of these journeys stay within the Highland Kingdom of the Southern Territories, but for those who crave challenge, possess strong curiosity, or desperately need hair growth tonic, only by traversing the entire continent can they prove their lives were not wasted—or confirm that their hair loss is truly hopeless.

The monitoring stations set up around the Grant Wall serve not only as maintenance and surveillance centers for the Sentinel Towers but also as vital communication hubs for elves traveling across the continent to stay connected with their homeland.

Walking through the town’s streets, surrounded by familiar hometown architecture and faces of fellow elves coming and going, Solderin felt a wave of emotion. The soft, rhythmic cadence of the elven tongue floated in the air like a comforting melody. This was the second home that long-term wanderers had built in the northeast of the continent. Every elf gathered here had spent many years living among humans far from home. If one listened closely, the weariness of their travels could be heard in their accents—at least half spoke with a distinct Northeastern twang.

(Note: “Northeast” refers to the northeastern part of the continent.)

“I almost forgot what pure elven speech sounds like,” Solderin said with a smile, shaking his head as he spoke to Belna beside him.

“You still have a very pure accent,” Belna winked, then asked with curiosity, “By the way, what were you talking about with the guard just now? You spent quite a while going through the inspection.”

“Nothing much, just discussing the situation. After all, this place is close to the borders of Ansu and Typhon,” Solderin replied casually. “How about you? Is there something wrong with your badge?”

“Seems like the activation mechanism got damaged—probably from a magical trap in a ruin I explored last time,” Belna scratched her head. “But luckily, the guards didn’t give me too much trouble.”

Solderin nodded and pointed ahead to a building. “I’m going to the Messenger Hall to contact some friends back home. What about you?”

“I’m going too!” Belna immediately nodded. “It’s been ages since I last contacted my friends, especially my mentor—I wonder if she’s paid off her gambling debts yet.”

Solderin’s mouth twitched involuntarily. That druid sage from Moonlight Valley had truly lost her way in later years. Just when she was about to retire, she reopened her doors to take on new disciples because of a mountain of gambling debts. Then again, Master Thornheart hadn’t exactly kept a spotless record either…

The Messenger Hall stood at the center of town—a beautiful white building with the classic Silver Elf style. The hall was oval-shaped, topped with layered white canopies resembling petals. Three lightweight alloy beams, shaped like leaf veins, stretched along the curved roof and converged at one end, forming a long bridge that connected to the base of the nearby Communication Tower. Together, the two buildings formed a single complex.

The Messenger Hall was an annex to the Communication Tower, designed to help traveling elves stay in touch with their homeland and report their findings. Messages sent here were amplified and broadcast by the tower, relayed to the Sentinel Towers, and ultimately transmitted back to the Silver Empire. The massive floating sky fortress known as the “Sanctuary of the Stars” hovering above the empire received and processed these communications.

Within the Silver Empire, a specialized department called the “Wind Whisperers” handled magical transmissions from across the continent. Located at the heart of the Sanctuary of the Stars, they compiled incoming information, forwarding valuable intelligence to the royal court and broadcasting ordinary messages through powerful antennas. This allowed every elf within the empire to hear greetings from distant friends and family at any time.

Solderin and Belna entered the Messenger Hall together.

The cold northern air was blocked by an invisible barrier at the entrance, making the interior warm and pleasant.

In the center of the hall stood over a dozen thick pillars resembling tree trunks. Each pillar was surrounded by rune-engraved metal devices—these were the standard communication terminals. Around the hall’s perimeter were neatly arranged small private rooms, available for an extra fee. Elves wishing to keep their conversations confidential or transmit sensitive information could rent these rooms, though the price was steep.

In the northern regions, where elves were less common, people often held mistaken views about the Silver Elves. They imagined this long-lived, nature-loving, elegant race as ethereal beings who lived off the wind and dew, unfamiliar with commerce or human affairs. But the truth was quite different.

Silver Elves engaged in trade and understood the power of money. Their long lifespans shaped unique attitudes toward wealth that outsiders often misunderstood. Some borrowed money from Silver Elves and never repaid it, assuming the elves didn’t care about money. What they didn’t realize was that a century later, a Silver Elf would come knocking—ready to settle debts by any means necessary, especially if the debtor planned to dodge repayment.

Solderin bypassed the free terminals and went straight to the reception desk, placing several silver coins before the attendant. “I need a room.”

These coins weren’t the new currency minted by Lord Cecil but Typhon Empire coins. To avoid complications, Solderin had exchanged all his money before setting out.

“I want a room too!” Belna’s voice came from beside him.

Solderin glanced back to see the lively elf girl grinning foolishly at him.

He frowned. He was booking a room because his business was confidential. Was this carefree girl also here to report secrets?

He didn’t ask further. After receiving the magical badge that activated the room, he said goodbye to Belna and left the counter.

Solderin entered the private room he had rented, confirmed the magical lock had sealed the door and the soundproofing enchantment was active, then turned to the arcane device at the far end. He placed his hand into a recessed slot atop a silver-white metal pillar.

Ancient, mysterious elven runes shimmered across the metal surface. A faint hum rose from the base of the device. Moments later, the communication connected. A misty glow appeared above the device, gradually coalescing into a clear figure.

A silver elf with a sweet smile waved at Solderin. “Wind Whisperer 0287, greetings, sister traveler.”

“Ahem, I’m a male,” Solderin cleared his throat. “High Ranger Solderin Frostleaf.”

The image flickered briefly.

Probably a lag in the network.

“Greetings, brother traveler,” the Wind Whisperer’s smile stiffened slightly. “Do you wish to contact your family, or report your findings?”

“I have some urgent information to report,” Solderin’s expression turned serious. As a High Ranger, his role differed from ordinary travelers. He was not only on a personal journey but also responsible for relaying critical intelligence. “It’s urgent and important—needs to be forwarded to the royal court.”

The attendant on the other end had already verified his identity and now matched his seriousness. “You’re on a secure line. Please proceed, honored High Ranger.”

“First, about the Grant Wall—recently, there have been at least three breaches by aberrations in the northern section. Two struck the Ansu border, one the Typhon border. I witnessed one of these myself…”

“I suspect a malfunction in the northern Sentinel Towers, but the monitoring station here hasn’t detected any anomalies…”

“I hope the royal court will investigate.”

Solderin reported the unusual activity at the Grant Wall first. He could tell the Wind Whisperer was deeply concerned, confirming his earlier suspicion: the Silver Empire had not detected any problems with the barrier.

“The second matter is also critical,” he continued after finishing the first report. “You know Gawain Cecil, one of the leaders of the human Northern Expeditionary Force from seven centuries ago?”

“Yes, many know of him.”

“He has recently been resurrected,” Solderin said gravely.

The image froze again.

Probably another lag.

“There are precedents for resurrection,” the Wind Whisperer 0287 finally responded, “but none that I’ve heard of after seven hundred years. Is this information accurate? Or is it related to undead magic?”

“I met him personally. He is indeed alive,” Solderin said solemnly. “And his revival has nothing to do with necromancy. He was awakened by a half-elf with Silver Elf blood.”

“A half-elf? A hidden druid sage?”

“No, a thief—he broke into the Cecil family crypt, pried open Gawain’s coffin, and woke him,” Solderin sighed deeply. “I know it’s hard to believe, but that’s the truth.”

The image froze once more.

Solderin thought carefully. Probably just another lag.

Meanwhile, in another room, Belna placed her hand on the communication console.

But instead of activating it directly, she pulled a small magical device from her pocket and placed it on the surface of the console.

It was a delicate golden disc, resembling a pocket watch. After she infused it with magic, the disc snapped open with a click. Several slender, metallic tendrils emerged, deftly seeking their target.

Two of the tendrils wrapped around Belna’s fingers, while the others slipped into the seams of the arcane device.

The elven runes on the device’s surface began to flash wildly, then after a few seconds, everything calmed.

Belna smiled, but the innocent, lively expression was gone, replaced by a strange, sultry languor. She poured magic into the device and called out in a low, hoarse voice:

“How are the wastelands of the Empire?”

(End of chapter)