Chapter 689: Speaker Andar

On the continent of Talrond, within the grand palace of the Dragon City Agondor, the blue dragon Melita Pernia and the white dragon Noretta strolled down an expansive corridor, heading toward the chamber of the Council’s High Speaker.

The ancient palace, majestic and unchanging for millennia, stood proudly upon the land. Inside, Melita was greeted by familiar sights she had known since childhood: solemn golden pillars supporting intricate arches that intertwined like the ribcage of some colossal beast. Above, a dome of gray crystalline stone stretched overhead, each tile carved with elaborate patterns depicting pivotal moments in dragonkind’s history. Along the corridor’s sides, translucent crystalline panels hung from the pillars, their surfaces shimmering with flickering lights—ready at any moment to display information or respond to visitors’ interactions.

Perhaps due to the sacred festival underway, the palace was nearly deserted. Aside from Melita and Noretta, only a handful of staff moved about, outnumbered by the softly humming service automatons. These “iron servants,” clad in pale gold or light blue shells, glided silently along energy conduits embedded in the floor, their wheels spinning as they maintained the palace’s complex, ancient technologies or carried out orders from the “Omega” system. They were ceaselessly busy, as if never to rest.

The palace was intricate, exquisite, and awe-inspiring—yet beneath this splendid facade lay a quagmire of stagnated technology.

Melita glanced up at the dome’s ornate carvings and the hidden energy conduits woven between them, muttering softly, “The greatest upgrade is just a new pattern.”

Technology had reached its limits. A wall stood before all researchers, impenetrable by current knowledge or tools. Society stalled; civilization hit a bottleneck. No new theories emerged, no fresh principles discovered. All progress was mere patchwork on existing inventions—until even patching became impossible. The craftsmanship and operating principles had reached the pinnacle of their civilization’s capabilities. Altering even a single screw would be regression, destruction. The only remaining avenue for development was art and aesthetics. The dragons’ only recourse was to express “upgrades” through patterns, reliefs, decorations, and elaborate designs.

Thus, dragons who once favored rugged practicality had built these magnificent halls, which stood to this day.

Noretta shook her head, a faint, resigned smile on her lips. “A time of decline, isn’t it?”

“The outside world changes so fast,” Melita whispered. “That vibrant energy fascinates dragons. Almost every day, someone celebrates something new. Every day brings change—good or bad—but change is always the theme.”

“Before the fence, the sheep think the yard is endless. Haven’t you seen enough of these so-called new things and changes through countless seasons of civilization?”

Melita raised an eyebrow, glancing at her friend. “Noretta, I’m a young dragon. My curiosity hasn’t been satisfied yet.”

Noretta chuckled softly. “Perhaps—but I hope whatever excites you also interests the High Speaker. He’s an old dragon; his curiosity has long since settled.”

At the corridor’s end, a magnificent alloy door sensed their approach. The security system scanned the two humanoid dragons’ identities. A pleasant chime sounded as a cascade of shimmering light flowed across the door, which then slid open, revealing the entrance to the Speaker’s chamber.

Inside a spacious circular hall, a pale gold platform stood at the center. Around it hung countless translucent “crystal curtains,” their surfaces continuously refreshing with vast streams of data and images. Resting atop the platform was a colossal golden dragon, as large as a human dwelling, lying quietly on a throne woven from countless cables, conduits, and fabrics.

Even by dragon standards, he was advanced in years. His once-beautiful scales had dulled to a coppery sheen, covering his massive frame like worn metal plates. Along his spine were numerous ports and metal plates connected to cables descending from the ceiling. His body bore the marks of mechanical and bioengineered modifications: beneath his skin flickered synthetic bioluminescent layers; his claws were reinforced with cold, hard alloy bones.

Melita approached the half-mechanical elder and bowed before the platform. “I pay my respects, Speaker Andar.”

The aged golden dragon lowered his head. One mechanical eye embedded in his skull adjusted its focus, while the other, slightly clouded biological eye still gleamed with warmth and wisdom. A gentle voice emanated from the surrounding speakers: “Ah, Melita… the Silver Treasury’s finest agent. Good child, have you come to appeal the penalty on your bonus?”

Melita’s eyes lit up. “Is that possible?!”

“No.”

“…”

After a brief, awkward silence, Melita composed herself and produced the item that had brought her back to Talrond ahead of schedule. “Your Excellency, I have a special commission for your personal review. Also, I have some reports on recent developments in the Loren continent.”

“A commission? It’s rare to receive something directly for me… from the Elven Court, or perhaps an elemental lord?”

“Gawain Cecil.”

“Hmm.” Speaker Andar paused, then chuckled softly. The stack of manuscripts in Melita’s hands floated upward, unfolding before the Speaker’s eyes. “I hope this isn’t another ‘permanent archive’… Oh? This looks interesting.”

In an instant, the Speaker scanned and read through all the manuscripts. The ports along his spine glowed faintly, and an auxiliary cognitive unit near his skull activated, clearly intrigued—though only mildly.

“It includes insights on productivity and production relations, as well as projections of social change… not very profound, but you say this is Gawain Cecil’s summary for the current era?”

Melita lowered her gaze. “It should also include his experiences from the Gondor Empire period.”

“Ha… Gondor’s productivity structure was distorted. Their social system couldn’t have produced such insights,” Speaker Andar laughed, his mechanical eye flashing red. “I’m somewhat interested. How does Gawain Cecil want the Treasury to handle this manuscript?”

“That’s what I’m here to report…” Melita looked up, smiling.

Her report was thorough, covering not only Gawain Cecil’s commission but also her own observations and evaluations of the “pioneering hero.” She concluded with updates on the current state of the Cecil Empire and the continuation of the ancient Rebellion Plan in this era.

“In summary, I believe Gawain Cecil and the order he’s building could become a valuable variable. We should increase our attention and, if necessary, raise the contact level.”

Speaker Andar was silent for several seconds. His auxiliary unit processed rapidly and exchanged data with “Omega” in ways outsiders could not perceive. Finally, he spoke: “The current contact level is sufficient; no need to raise it for now. But the ‘variable’ you mention… does hold some value.”

“And…?”

“But he may not be the only variable, child,” the Speaker continued. “Other agents report that the human Typhon Empire is also undergoing massive changes, with breakthroughs in technology and culture. The Elven Silver Empire is gradually ‘thawing’ and attempting to restart development. Though they too are trapped in a technological quagmire like ours, they haven’t been ‘locked down’—there’s potential for breakthroughs. Additionally, the Violet Kingdom, the Dwarven Court, and the Highland Kingdom all show signs of social reform or technological leaps… These, too, are variables.”

Melita blinked, pondering briefly before nodding. “…I may have been too focused on the Cecil Empire.”

“That’s your assigned region; paying close attention is only natural. Also…” The Speaker’s voice faltered slightly, as if choosing his words carefully. “Gawain Cecil is indeed a different kind of variable. Who guided his voyage back then remains a mystery we have yet to unravel. The secrets hidden within this human intrigue even me.”

“Regarding that, it seems Gawain Cecil himself is unaware,” Melita said. “I’ve spoken with him many times. His memories of that secret voyage appear erased—both before and after. Everyone who accompanied him left no trace; we can’t even identify who they were.”

“Few ‘people’ in this world can hide from the Silver Treasury’s gaze…” The old golden dragon’s voice was deep and steady. “Maintain contact with Gawain Cecil. The Treasury accepts this commission.”

Melita bowed respectfully. “Yes, sir.”

Some lights flickered in the room’s corner as a hidden door slid open. A mechanical servant flew out, taking the neatly organized manuscripts. Speaker Andar nodded to Melita. “Anything else?”

Melita had been about to take her leave but hesitated. Under the watchful gaze of the Speaker’s mechanical eye, she finally spoke: “Your Excellency, I encountered a genetically defective dragon on the Loren continent…”

“Oh? You went to the Holy Dragon Principality?”

“No, within Ansu’s borders—now part of the Cecil Empire,” Melita exhaled, her words flowing more smoothly. “A black dragon whose wings only partially developed due to a genetic defect. Her body is somewhat malformed. For reasons unknown, she left the Holy Dragon Principality and has lived among humans for many years…”

Speaker Andar’s gentle voice interrupted. “And then?”

“Besides her physical deformities, she is otherwise normal. Her mind is sound, and her human form is healthy enough for any non-flying work. So I’m curious…”

Noretta, who had remained silent, softly reminded her, “Melita, you’ve asked about this before…”

But Melita seemed not to hear. She pressed on, “I want to understand why genetically defective dragons are exiled. Is it simply because they’re born malformed? The Holy Dragon Principality was banished to the coldest northern reaches of Loren for so many years—was there no time limit?”

“…The Dragon Empire never demanded that exiles build their nests within the icebergs. The Council of Elders only required them to leave Talrond; settling at the northern edge of the continent of Lorran was their own choice. As for the reason behind their exile… genetic contamination was reason enough.”

Melita lifted her head, meeting the steady gaze of the venerable ancient dragon before her, who returned her look with nothing but calm acceptance.

Two full minutes passed before Melita finally broke eye contact under the watchful glow of his mechanical eye. She lowered her head. “I understand, Your Excellency, Chairman.”

Chairman Andal regarded the young dragon before him. The many devices connected to the room hummed softly, their low tones almost soothing. His voice came through the speaker: “Melita, you are young and full of vigor—qualities we treasure deeply among our kind. I do not mind your bold questions; in fact, I hope you keep this curiosity alive throughout your life. But some things are beyond your power to change or even know at this time. I hope you can accept that.”

Melita responded with respect and sincerity, “Yes, Chairman, I understand.”

“Go now. Rest for a while, then prepare for the audience ceremony. The gods will ease your weariness and heal your wounds. Once you have fully recovered, return to your duties.”

“Yes, Chairman.”

(End of chapter)