Chapter 730: Winter
Winter had arrived.
As expected, a thick fog blanketed the entire north-central region. The persistent mist and the steadily dropping temperatures began to shroud Olden in a pale gray haze. Amid this muted, misty expanse, the grand imperial capital blurred into a watercolor painting soaked with rain—everything losing its sharpness, its clarity.
The Obsidian Palace stood tall and imposing within the fog, like a colossal stone giant overlooking the heart of the empire.
Rosetta Augustus unfolded the letter before her, her expression calm and composed as she read each line carefully.
Standing by the emperor’s desk, Ferdinand Wendell noticed the emblem at the top of the letter—the sword and plow of the Cecil Empire. The intricate design of the seal and the neat lines on the parchment were both elegant and precise.
The ruler of Typhon took his time finishing the relatively brief letter. After a moment of reflection, he murmured, “At last, this tuition fee has become acceptable.”
“That’s a good start, Your Majesty,” Ferdinand replied gravely.
Rosetta nodded slightly. “Gawain Cecil believes the two nations must establish deeper ties—this old era of confrontation with swords and guns must end. What we should truly pursue now is a society that is more prosperous and abundant.”
Ferdinand watched his sovereign quietly. “And what is your view, Your Majesty?”
“At least on one point, I agree—the old era is indeed over,” Rosetta said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “We need to do things that better suit this new age…
“Lord Ferdinand, Gawain Cecil has been emphasizing that his new empire has a friendly and open system. So, what do you think… would they welcome some guests from Typhon?”
Ferdinand paused for a few seconds before answering slowly, “There’s only one way to find out—by trying.”
Rosetta smiled and reached for a sheet of stationery nearby. Taking up her pen, she wrote a firm line:
To the Emperor of Cecil:
Your insight commands my respect, and I find myself in strong agreement with your understanding of the times. Perhaps it is time we discuss how to move forward together in this new era…
The nib of her pen moved across the paper, the soft scratching sound filling the quiet study. Ferdinand turned his gaze to the window, watching the fog that cloaked Olden gently ripple under the sunlight, like a silent, tender sea. Golden rays shimmered and undulated across the misty surface.
A strange, unnatural odor drifted through the fog. When it reached her, Mary couldn’t help but sneeze.
The dark-haired apprentice stood at the crossroads before the Viscount Hermil’s manor. She frowned, watching the wisps of fog slowly swirl in her line of sight. The strange smell mixed in the mist soured her mood.
It wasn’t yet unbearable, but Mary’s sensitive nose detected something like harmful smoke—sharp with a faint stench.
She looked up to see the fog thickening overhead. Sunlight filtered weakly through the haze, casting a dim glow. In the distance, the Obsidian Palace loomed, its outline hazy and indistinct.
The fog enveloping Olden felt like a heavy, oppressive sea, filled with unpleasant odors. This was a wealthy, bustling city, but in winter, it was far less comfortable than her hometown—with its ever-changing skies and sunshine. At least there, there weren’t countless chimneys spewing waste into the air.
Mary waved her hand, summoning a gentle breeze shield to block out the harmful elements in the fog. A voice nearby, tinged with admiration and deference, said, “It’s impressive how you mages can command even the air to obey.”
Mary turned to see a servant in a cloak standing beside her—the Viscount Hermil’s attendant, assigned to accompany her until her mentor returned. This humble man took orders from her, but Mary wasn’t used to having that kind of authority, nor to receiving compliments. She shook her head and replied evenly, “If it weren’t for this place, I wouldn’t need to create a shield to filter the air. This should be the time of year when the air is at its cleanest.”
The servant smiled wryly. “…Yes, there’s definitely a strange smell in the fog this winter.”
“But I remember it wasn’t like this last year,” Mary recalled the time she first arrived in the capital with her mentor. “And not the year before that.”
“If you had come even earlier, you’d be even more surprised by this winter’s conditions,” the servant said, spreading his hands. “We locals know the changes here better than anyone.”
Mary repeated something she’d heard: “I’ve heard the strange smell comes from those chimneys—the stone acid factories. Their smoke can’t dissipate, so it turns into this foul fog.”
The servant shook his head with a bitter smile. “You can say that, but we dare not. The factories are run by the bigwigs, and they don’t like anyone talking about their machines and chimneys.”
Mary’s thoughts stirred, as if she wanted to say more. But before she could, the manor’s gate opened, and an old mage cloaked in black emerged, stooped with age.
The young apprentice immediately left the servant behind and hurried to greet her mentor.
“Master, shall we head straight home?” Mary asked respectfully, supporting Daniel’s arm.
“No, first we’ll stop by the Imperial Engineering Guild to pick up something,” Daniel glanced at his apprentice. “Not bad—you know how to open a breeze shield. Otherwise, in this awful weather, you’d get sick sooner or later. Your mind’s always slow to catch on.”
Mary lowered her head but neither argued nor felt discouraged. Instead, a faint smile appeared on her lips.
She could hardly remember the last time her mentor had “criticized” her so lightly.
Boarding the limited-edition magi-car issued by the empire, Mary and Daniel set off for the Imperial Engineering Guild. On the ride, Mary muttered, “Winter here isn’t as good as the countryside—much colder, and with choking fog.”
Daniel glanced coldly at the complaining apprentice and muttered a few words: “Not up to standard.”
Mary quickly shrank her neck, adopting a respectful posture as if accepting a scolding.
But Daniel didn’t lecture her as usual. Instead, he remained silent for several seconds. Curious, Mary looked up and saw her mentor quietly watching her.
She was puzzled but dared not ask. Finally, Daniel spoke: “Mary, are you thinking about going back home?”
“Me? No, I’m not,” Mary stammered, then hurriedly waved her hands. “I was just… just saying that. Master, I didn’t mean—”
Daniel’s calm gaze held her as she fumbled for words, then he shook his head and interrupted, “I found your parents.”
Mary froze instantly. She stared at her mentor, stunned, taking several seconds to process his words, then several more to figure out what expression to wear. She felt her face stiffen, unsure whether to feel joy or sorrow. It was as if she was hearing a strange concept—one that, oddly, concerned her.
Her parents.
The parents whose faces she had long forgotten.
“They’re in the countryside, not too far from that town. They moved after you disappeared, but common folk rarely move far. As one of the empire’s chief mages, it wasn’t hard for me to find them,” Daniel said calmly. “You also have a brother and a sister. Your brother died a few years ago during the plague. Your sister is married but has no children yet.”
Mary stared at her mentor—the same man who had been twisted, cold, brutal, and terrifying for so many years. Now, as he spoke quietly about her family, the harshness was gone from his amber eyes. Instead, they reflected only her own bewildered face.
She murmured, unsure even of what she wanted to say: “Master, I… I don’t know…”
Daniel interrupted again. “If you want to see them, I’ll bring them here. If you want to go home, then go.”
“…I don’t know.”
It was a weak, uncertain answer. In the past, it would have earned her a harsh rebuke or punishment. But today, Daniel simply nodded lightly. “I understand. I’ll give you time to think.”
Mary lowered her head. After a long silence, she finally spoke again: “Have they been well all these years?”
“They haven’t gone hungry.”
“That’s good.”
Daniel watched Mary for a long moment before muttering, “Not up to standard.”
With that, he withdrew his gaze, as if no longer paying attention to her. His spirit slowly sank, maintaining just enough awareness of the real world to respond, while quietly connecting to the secret psychic network.
Within the network, the Dream City created by the Sleepless Ones basked in bright sunshine and clear skies.
A gentle breeze swept down the broad streets, stirring golden leaves just so. Drapes hanging from palaces and towers fluttered in the wind, their rich textures on display. Daniel, transformed into a dignified middle-aged mage, appeared on the street, walking forward with the flow of passersby.
His mental tendrils spread out, secretly linking to the thoughts of nearby Sleepless cultists, extracting the latest useful intelligence.
Most of the information was filtered out: the network was flooded with trivial posts from bored Sleepless, much to the chagrin of the priests managing the flow. The great master called this meaningless chatter “spam.” Though Daniel couldn’t grasp the alien term, he understood from his master’s tone it was no compliment.
The priests were reportedly studying how to control this flood of useless information. Daniel found this somewhat interesting, but first, he had to complete the task his master had assigned.
After filtering out the noise, he focused on the network’s recent activity and the cult’s current operations.
He “heard” and “saw” several pieces of intelligence:
Within the Cecil Empire, cult activities were becoming increasingly difficult. Ubiquitous mana monitoring towers and growing numbers of constables were squeezing out illegal supernaturals;
The high-ranking nightmare archbishops had recently launched a new round of computational resource requisitions. A large project seemed to require more computing power. Some mid- and lower-level Sleepless were grumbling about the frequency of these demands;
The Stormborn had made their final contact with the mainland recently, then vanished completely;
Some Sleepless lamented how the once united three great sects had long since fractured, mourning the unpredictable changes of the world.
One message after another flashed through Daniel’s mind and vision as he walked casually down the street, his expression calm and composed, blending in like any ordinary passerby.
A golden leaf drifted down nearby, spinning slowly as it fell behind him. Midair, it suddenly darkened to pitch black, its edges fracturing into countless jagged cracks that trembled briefly before vanishing altogether.
Yet no one around seemed to notice this “imperfect moment.”
More meaningless chatter surfaced from some unknown node cluster. Daniel glanced over the stream of “water posts” without much interest.
They were just boring rumors—or urban legends, really—
Nameless cultists spoke of strange phenomena in the psychic network lately, claiming that while wandering the Dream City, they’d suddenly encountered abnormal voids. Others said that while walking down the street, people in front of them would vanish into thin air—not just a disconnection, but as if something had swallowed them whole. Some even believed they’d lost memories formed during their time online after logging off…
(End of chapter)