Chapter 512: A Chance Encounter

Wide, spotless streets stretched out before them, flanked by towering, neatly planned buildings. Magical crystal street lamps stood like sentinels along the sidewalks, while floating magical projections hovered in the air. In the central square, astonishing arcane machines were on display—wonders of magical engineering.

Merchant Kord sat quietly in his carriage. As a seasoned and composed businessman, he had managed to steady his emotions, adopting a calm, detached expression as he observed the city outside. Yet beneath that composed exterior, a storm still raged in his heart.

Carol had once been a viscountcy, nestled beside the Holy Spirit Plains and thriving on bustling trade. It had long been one of the wealthiest regions in the southern territories, and Kord had always taken pride in the prosperity of Carol City. But compared to the city before him now…

No, there was simply no comparison.

The air here was free of the usual stench of waste and decay that plagued large cities. There were no ragged paupers or serfs wandering the streets. Instead, an indescribable sense of order seemed to permeate the very atmosphere—an order Kord had never witnessed anywhere else.

He was aware of the new administrative hall recently built in Carol, and the series of new laws it had enacted. Some of these laws had local support—tax reductions, land redistribution—while others were more difficult to accept, like sanitation regulations and certain labor policies. To be honest, even Kord didn’t fully grasp the purpose behind all these reforms. But after seeing Cecil City today, he realized one thing for sure:

Living in a city like this was far more comfortable than living in Carol.

Once back, he would have to rally the commercial guild to ensure everyone willingly complied with the sanitation laws…

The carriage left the bustling market streets, turning two corners before the surroundings grew quiet.

Pioneers’ Square lay adjacent to the administrative hall and the lord’s manor, separated only by two streets. There were no city walls or moats between them—just a few guard posts protecting the roads leading into the administrative district. The merchant’s carriage stopped at one such post for inspection.

Kord and his son Pal had prepared the necessary bribes for the soldiers in advance. As soon as the carriage halted, they obediently stepped down. A warrior clad in arcane armor approached.

“Stop for inspection—please present your identification.”

Kord quickly produced the identification issued by the Cecil Commerce Department, along with a letter of introduction personally signed by Minister Padrick. As he handed over the documents, he silently calculated how much it would cost to grease the guards’ palms. Though he had told Pal he’d been to Cecil before, it was only once last year, accompanying the family’s fleet to sell medicinal herbs. Beyond that, he knew little of the city.

His claim of “having been to Cecil” was, in truth, a bit of self-aggrandizement.

While he pondered this, the soldier finished checking the documents and confirmed the black-and-white portrait. Two other soldiers inspected the carriage. Then a crisp voice reached Kord and Pal’s ears:

“Inspection passed—you may proceed.”

Kord nodded instinctively, then blinked in confusion. “Ah… what?”

“You may proceed,” the soldier repeated. Noticing the merchant’s puzzled expression, he glanced down at the papers again, confirming their contents. “Everything’s in order. Here’s your pass.”

Dazed, Kord took the documents and the pass, returning to the carriage with Pal. Even as the carriage pulled away from the checkpoint, he still hadn’t quite processed what had just happened.

Pal was equally baffled. “Father… did those soldiers forget to take our money?”

“Forget? That’s impossible,” Kord shot his son a look, then muttered in disbelief, “Back in Carol, it was the same… How does the duke manage this?”

Still puzzled, the merchant and his son continued onward.

Soon, they arrived at the lord’s manor.

Stepping down from the carriage, Kord looked up at the imposing estate. He took a deep breath, carefully masking all his surprise, curiosity, confusion, and excitement behind a calm, composed facade. Straightening his impeccably tailored clothes, he followed a manor guard, leading Pal forward.

There was more than one carriage parked outside—clearly, other visitors were present. At the grand door adorned with the Cecil family crest, Kord noticed a young woman stepping out. She wore a tasteful winter coat and was descending the steps, apparently preparing to leave.

The guards at the door seemed familiar with her, exchanging a brief, casual conversation.

“Miss Jipri—already finished your report so soon?”

The young woman smiled. “Just a routine update.”

The guard’s tone held a hint of anticipation. “Will there be more programs tomorrow?”

“Of course. Every day. And there might even be some new shows in the coming days.”

Kord approached the door as his escort handed over the documents. The woman called “Miss Jipri” turned and glanced curiously at the merchant from Carol.

“Hello,” she greeted politely with a slight nod.

“Ah—I saw you on that… magical projection!” Kord exclaimed, surprised to realize this was the same woman he had seen on the city’s holographic display. The strange feeling of having seen someone on a projection and then suddenly meeting them in person struck him as quite remarkable. With perfect gentlemanly grace, he bowed slightly. “Miss ‘Witch,’ you are even more beautiful than on the projection.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” Jipri smiled and nodded. But in the next moment, a strange sense of familiarity stirred within her. The face of this middle-aged merchant overlapped with a memory deep in her mind.

Kord also took a longer look at Jipri. Setting aside the “magical projection” barrier, he too felt a faint but unmistakable sense of recognition.

In unison, they both asked:

“Haven’t we met before?”

At that very instant, they traced the source of their familiarity.

More than a decade ago, in an autumn long past, a young merchant newly in charge of his family’s business ventured into the southern territories, arriving in an unfamiliar city, full of ambition.

That same autumn, a runaway mage’s apprentice found herself stranded in a foreign land, hungry and desperate.

The young merchant sought opportunity, buoyed by hope, and stopped at a fortune-teller’s stall, hoping for some encouraging words.

The apprentice, still just a girl, sought food and offered a few simple tricks she had learned in exchange for bread.

A brief, wordless awkwardness hung in the air on the steps of the lord’s manor. The great merchant from Carol and the famed witch from the magical network stood face to face. After a few seconds, the tension broke as they both laughed simultaneously.

“You said the city was paved with gold,” Kord stepped forward, extending his hand. “Kord, from Carol.”

“Jipri. It’s a pleasure to meet you again,” she gently shook his hand. “I’m sorry—I lied back then. I was really hungry.”

“I know,” Kord released her hand and stepped back politely. “I could tell—you didn’t know how to tell fortunes.”

Jipri smiled. “But I learned after that day.”

They passed each other. The merchant headed toward the manor’s grand doors, while the witch walked toward the carriage parked by the roadside. Just before climbing in, Jipri paused, turned, and called out loudly:

“Mr. Kord—the city really is paved with gold.”

Kord looked back in surprise. She waved at him. “This time, it’s true.”

The merchant chuckled. “I know.”

The carriage rolled away, and Kord and Pal stepped through the manor’s doors.

“Father,” young Pal finally spoke as they entered, “do you know that witch?”

“I met her once when I was young—she was just a girl then,” the merchant replied casually. “She taught me my first lesson.”

“First lesson?”

“Yes. Don’t trust fortune-tellers on the roadside.”

…

Before Gawain lay two documents.

One was from Rebecca: an analytical report on the “Universal Traction Chassis.” It contained a detailed breakdown of the first-generation arcane-powered vehicle’s entire system, and, building on the experience gained from the magic carriage, proposed a plan to create a universal traction chassis.

The magic carriage had been successfully built. Using magical technology and unique local resources, the world’s researchers had overcome numerous technical challenges, finally producing a vehicle powered by magic that ordinary people could operate. Though far from perfect and still plagued by various issues, this first step was undeniably a success.

A vehicle stronger than oxen, faster, tireless, and requiring no fodder—such a transport would greatly ease the logistical challenges faced during Cecil’s large-scale construction efforts. To maximize the technology’s value, it was necessary to develop a variety of specialized engineering vehicles based on the magic carriage’s principles.

Under Gawain’s long mentorship, Rebecca had already grasped the concepts of modular design and universal technology, and had experienced their benefits firsthand. So, without waiting for Gawain’s instruction, she devised a “universal chassis” plan.

In her proposal, Rebecca suggested making the first-generation “Model 475” magic carriage chassis modular, allowing it to easily connect with different bodies and trailers. On this basis, she envisioned numerous derivative vehicles: cargo trucks, passenger buses, agricultural machines, engineering equipment. At the report’s end, she even sketched a rough design for a war vehicle—essentially a Model 475 chassis welded with a light arcane cannon, surrounded by steel plating…

The front even sported a crude, awkward ram.

Simple, rough, and straightforward—but surprisingly innovative.

Honestly, Gawain was stunned after reading the report, as he hadn’t even considered this direction yet…

Beside Rebecca’s report lay a second document: a draft plan Gawain was working on himself—

“The Potential Value of Developing New Media”

Newspapers were gradually gaining popularity in the southern territories, reaching nearly every town. Meanwhile, the brand-new magical network broadcasts, centered along the cross-axis lines, were covering more and more cities. People in the south were becoming familiar with these new media forms, and the staff producing newspapers and broadcasts were also growing accustomed to their work.

The role of new media in information dissemination was becoming increasingly apparent. Especially during the Luan City incident, the power of public opinion and propaganda left a deep impression on everyone in the administrative hall. Hetty had even remarked that the influence of newspapers and programs rivaled that of a fully armed army.

But Gawain knew the true value of these new media had yet to be unlocked—they were still narrow in scope, used mainly for official announcements.

Content was limited, variety scarce, and commercial revenue lacking. Rather than new media, they were more like oversized bulletin boards.

This was far from the vision Gawain had originally set out to achieve.

He picked up his pen and began outlining the next steps in the plan—figuring out how to teach the people to actively engage with these new innovations. It was crucial to help them realize that what the lord created wasn’t just for the lord’s use, but for ordinary folks as well. The goal was to find ways to cultivate a civilian market, to breathe life into these new things, and to maximize their value…

The benefits were clear. Take, for example, opening up the commercial section of the newspaper: on one hand, it would quickly awaken the public’s awareness, encouraging them to think and take action, accelerating Cecil’s cultural development. On the other hand, it could generate economic returns to ease the growing financial strain on the Cecil Administration Office. Too many construction projects were squeezing the duchy’s economy. Most of the new creations were purely “official projects,” entirely dependent on the duchy’s budget, barely able to recoup their costs—or at best, only recovering initial expenses without producing ongoing revenue. They were one hundred percent “government enterprises,” almost completely disconnected from grassroots groups.

It wasn’t a problem yet, but it was bound to become one.

Of course, how to maintain effective oversight during this process—to prevent these new ventures from slipping out of the administration’s control—was another serious consideration…

Gawain frowned in thought, his pen pausing and resuming. He had to weigh the future direction of new media and the corresponding management systems, while also figuring out how to guide the people, taking into account the mindset of this era. Drafting the plan was no easy task.

Just then, Betty’s voice suddenly came from outside the door, breaking his concentration.

“Master! Mr. Cod and Mr. Parr from Carol have arrived!”

Gawain paused, then recalled who these somewhat unfamiliar names belonged to.

They were the father-and-son merchants recommended by Minister of Commerce, Patrick.

“Show them in.”

The door opened, and Cod and Parr stepped nervously into the lord’s study.

At last, they saw with their own eyes the ruler of the southern lands.

He sat behind a large desk, pen in hand. Behind him, a massive floor-to-ceiling window let sunlight pour into the room, casting a golden glow over the founding duke’s shoulders, like a pale gold cloak.

He was even taller than Cod had imagined.

“Your Grace,” the great merchant said quickly after a brief moment of surprise, pulling his son aside and bowing respectfully, “we are deeply honored—your radiance shines upon this land.”

(Oh my goodness!!)

(End of chapter)