Chapter 756: The March of the Times

Goods from the Cecile Empire were gradually making their way into many northern kingdoms of the continent. Despite the harsh winter season, driven by soaring profits and backed by the imperial family, merchants braved the biting cold and treacherous journeys to bring those novel, intriguing, and highly useful items to distant foreign lands.

Amid the towering mountains of the far north stood a massive gray stone fortress perched atop a peak. The howling wind swept across the ridges, swirling snow and icy mist around the fortress walls. Huge braziers blazed fiercely throughout the stronghold, their flames glowing a blood-red hue thanks to a mixture of frostfire herb sap and shimmering crystal dust in the fuel—no matter how fierce the wind, the fire would not be extinguished.

Invisible veils of magic shrouded the ancient “Dragon’s Landing Fortress,” working alongside the roaring braziers to fend off the bitter cold. Inside, a vast hall housed more blazing fire pits. A middle-aged man draped in a dark red cloak sat comfortably in a wide chair, watching a magical device before him with keen interest.

The firelight flickered across his resolute face, casting shadows over his gray cropped hair, high cheekbones, and prominent nose.

“Your Majesty, this is the magical terminal brought by those Cecile merchants,” a tall courtier with a thick beard and broad forehead stood beside the throne, explaining the object presented by a servant. “By inserting different modules, it can cast various simple spells—useful for self-defense or as a practical tool. Also, here are some alchemical potions they sell—nothing extraordinary in effect, but surprisingly cheap. In fact, by our standards, the potions inside cost less than the bottles themselves…”

The gray-haired middle-aged man, Duke Barlogel, the current Dragonblood ruler of the Holy Dragon Principality for over a millennium, nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve been hearing more and more about these things lately.”

According to the principality’s tradition, although its sovereign held the title of “Duke,” his subjects addressed him as “Your Majesty,” rather than the southern kingdoms’ “Your Highness.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the courtier bowed. “In the past six months, merchants from the south have increased steadily. The new Cecile royal family strongly encourages commerce, and the novelties they bring are very popular among our youth—especially self-operating machines and crystal devices that can record images.”

Barlogel studied the magical terminal quietly for a moment, then said deliberately, “Quite… interesting.”

On the other side of the throne, a white-haired courtier clad in a white twill robe couldn’t help but comment, “But the young people have become overly fascinated with foreign things, even talking about going south to ‘see the world.’ That doesn’t seem like a good sign.”

Without turning, Barlogel replied casually, “Why not?”

“An excessive curiosity about the outside world will shake the resolve of the younger generation. Our people begin chasing after exotic trinkets, forgetting the teachings of our ancestors. The long exile is not yet over; rashly leaving the mountains is hardly noble…”

“The ancestors only warned us not to go north—they never forbade heading south,” Barlogel said coolly. “Our past disinterest in the southern kingdoms was simply because they were weak and outdated, not worth our attention.”

He shook his head with a wry smile. “But now… it seems something remarkable is happening down south.”

After a pause, the ruler of the Holy Dragon Principality turned to the white-haired courtier. “As for this so-called ‘noble act’… Sir Eugene, nobility is defined by people.”

Then he glanced at the bearded courtier. “Sir Gorosh, the Ice Lord from the southern mountains has sent envoys twice recently to discuss officially opening trade routes. Perhaps it’s time we respond.”

…

In the western border of the Cecile Empire, in the city of Shilin, inside Franklin Castle.

Wenna, a gray elf, sat in a reception room adorned with soft thick carpets, decorative shields, and rune-embroidered tapestries. The glow from magical crystal lamps shimmered on the polished round table, casting kaleidoscopic reflections through colored glass inlays. She smiled faintly at Duke Bertram Franklin seated across from her.

“Our first collaboration in this new era has been very successful—the initial batch of alchemical potions and sample eastern fabrics have been well received in the plains and hills. By order of the Gray Elf King, I bring this gift to His Majesty King Gawain Cecile as a token of our friendship.”

The petite lady, small enough to be mistaken for a human child but actually the leader of a large gray elf tribe, gestured to a nearby attendant. The servant stepped forward and placed an exquisitely decorated box about a foot square on the table before Bertram.

A faint rune glow flickered as the box’s magical lock disengaged, the lid opening to reveal a crystal orb roughly the size of a fist resting on a velvet cushion.

“This is a high-purity crystal orb from the Ancestor’s Peak. As you know, crystals from that mountain are the finest on the continent. This orb was hand-carved and polished by the dwarf craftsman MacIntosh Graymount, then blessed by the Fairy King, wishing for lasting friendship between our two nations—pure and flawless like this crystal.”

“I will deliver this precious gift to our Emperor,” Duke Franklin nodded, instructing a servant to store it carefully. “When the roads clear in spring and we establish permanent embassies with appointed envoys, I will invite you to visit our imperial capital. You will surely enjoy its vibrant commercial atmosphere.”

“I look forward to it,” Wenna smiled and nodded, then asked, “Our king also wishes to confirm when the second batch of textiles and alchemical potions will be available. There is a significant shortage of both in the plains.”

“We can supply alchemical potions in large quantities at any time—the western region now has alchemy factories. As for textiles from Typhon…” Bertram rubbed his chin, looking troubled. “You know the transport is long and arduous. The last samples came via the Whitewater River and overland caravans relaying the goods from east to west. But now, river transport has halted for the season, and the railway needed for the magi-powered trains won’t be completed this year.”

“Of course, we can still supply a small amount of textiles to ease the shortage.”

“Having enough alchemical potions already solves half the problem,” Wenna said with a smile. “As for textiles… we understand the difficulties of moving bulk goods from east to west.”

She paused briefly, then smoothly changed the subject. “By the way, since you mentioned ‘magi-powered trains,’ I’ve heard that strange term several times recently… Could you tell me more about them?”

Bertram’s lips curled into a slight smile as he stroked his fingers and leaned forward. “Oh? You’re interested?”

“Any sensible merchant would be,” Wenna said softly and maturely. “The idea of quickly transporting massive quantities of goods across the empire at low cost is very appealing—not just to me, but to our Gray Elf King and several other monarchs as well.”

“Ah, then I must give you a detailed introduction.” Bertram smiled warmly and beckoned to a nearby shelf. A finely crafted model of a magi-powered train floated steadily into his hands. “First, we need to start with the concept of the ‘magi-powered locomotive’…”

…

As the misty month deepened and the year drew to a close, this young yet ancient nation had undergone countless events and transformations.

This year was destined to be recorded in history, a pivotal chapter in humanity’s vast civilization. Many new things were born to change people’s lives, while many old ways quietly faded, gradually disappearing from their former stage.

After a day of training, Jinna walked slowly down the slope behind the Windcaller Camp. The forest breeze brushed past her—not fierce, but surprisingly cold.

Her mind replayed the day’s extraordinary flight experience, her heart still stirred with excitement.

Today, she had finally moved beyond ground simulations and familiarizing herself with the controls. With the help of an assistant trainer, she piloted the magi-mechanical “Dragon Rider” into the blue sky for the first time. Though only an hour of actual flight training, the experience—so different from riding a griffon—left a deep impression.

Smoother, faster, more agile—the lifeless steel and crystal combined into a delicate flying machine like a bird. She and another trainee sat in the three-person cockpit of the Dragon Rider, soaring over the northern foothills of the Dark Mountains under the trainer’s guidance. The vibrations from the air currents transmitted through the control stick reminded her of griffon reins, yet felt entirely different.

Two sharp calls echoed nearby, breaking the new Dragon Rider commander’s thoughts. She looked up and realized she had unknowingly reached the southern edge of the Windcaller Camp, arriving at a special place.

Several large wooden nests were arranged under a row of wooden sheds, surrounded by railings thicker than an adult’s thigh. The distinctive scent of large birds drifted in the wind. She glimpsed massive wings and sharp beaks flashing behind the railings.

She had unwittingly come to the griffon nests.

The Windcaller Camp was a training facility for Dragon Rider pilots—one of the empire’s cutting-edge installations. The old griffon nests seemed somewhat out of place here, but practically speaking, it made sense. The new magi-powered flying machines had only just been introduced. Besides a few trainers from the research units, the first batch of pilots had only just begun training. Before this, the camp didn’t even have a single flyable training machine. Under these circumstances, the camp still relied on the old griffon units for quick transport between the camp and the capital.

Thus, the Windcaller Camp maintained a griffon squadron alongside its advanced flying machine training.

But soon, those griffons would likely be disbanded…

A sudden wave of emotion stirred in Jinna’s heart as she approached a familiar nest.

Almost instantly, a massive figure rose within the nest, and the sharp-beaked, white-feathered head appeared before her.

“Hey, old friend.”

The female knight reached out her hand, gently brushing the feathers near the neck of her old friend.

The griffin let out a loud, piercing cry.

Jinna couldn’t help but laugh. “Still as spirited as ever.”

“Actually, it’s cursing,” a voice suddenly came from nearby, “and not very politely, either.”

Surprised, Jinna turned her head to see the blonde elf instructor approaching from a short distance away.

Beside the elf stood a quiet, composed woman with long black hair.

This black-haired lady was the assistant trainer who had guided Jinna through today’s exercises—one of the technical experts sent from the Arcane Technology Research Institute.

Jinna immediately straightened up and gave a sharp, proper military salute. “Instructor Sonia, Ms. Maggie.”

Sonia returned the salute before waving her hand dismissively. “You can relax now. Training’s over for today.”

Jinna exhaled deeply, while the griffin beside her let out another loud call.

Sonia shot a sharp glare at the noisy giant bird. “Such crude language!”

The griffin lifted its head, and beneath its feathered face, a faint hint of pride seemed to flicker.

Jinna: “…”

(Oh, come on!!!

By the way, my backlog is almost gone… but I’ll try to push through a bit more tomorrow…)

(The End of This Chapter)