Chapter 769: The Beginning of the Year

In the blink of an eye, winter was already halfway through. The turbulent and stormy year of Ansu 738 (the first year of Cecil) drew to a close amid a biting wind and snowstorm in the depths of winter. Now, the calendar had turned to the new year.

Over the past year, this ancient yet youthful kingdom had undergone an extraordinary number of changes. The old royal power had fallen; a once-divided nation was reunited. Catastrophic disasters struck like natural calamities, prompting large-scale reconstruction. The old aristocratic order was reshuffled, and a new era dawned…

It was as if some unseen deity, the master of fate, had suddenly overturned the cosmic table, tossing the entire kingdom into upheaval. Only after the dust settled did people slowly realize: the world had changed.

In the southern part of Pan Shi City, a brand-new magi-engine train stood quietly at the platform, waiting for the departure signal.

Outside, the cold wind howled fiercely, swirling loose snowflakes and brittle twigs into the air. Yet a faint, translucent shield hovered along the platform’s edge, blocking the chill from sweeping inside. On the rectangular platform, lined with two rows of long benches, some travelers sat patiently awaiting the train’s arrival, while others, guided by attendants, were boarding the adjacent carriages.

Most of these travelers wore the practical, cinched jackets and straight-cut trousers that had only become fashionable in the southern regions over the past two years. Thick soft hats or felt caps covered their heads. A smaller number still donned the older style of long or short cloaks. The women mostly wore “simple long skirts” that balanced utility with elegance, layering warm cotton garments underneath. A few women even wore specially tailored coats and trousers designed for ladies.

For newcomers, this was a startling sight. Before Ansu 736, even in the south, it was rare for common women to wear trousers—considered a breach of decorum—because the dominant faiths—the Blood God, the War God, and the God of the Holy Light—as well as local nobility, imposed strict rules:

Only noble ladies of high rank could wear riding breeches or fencing trousers for hunting or martial displays, or elegant gowns and court dresses for banquets. These were deemed “appropriate and dignified” attire befitting noble life. Common women were forbidden from wearing “improper” trousers or shorts, or brightly colored dresses outside the accepted black, white, brown, or gray—unless registered as courtesans. Violations could result in fines from the church or nobility, or worse, punishments for “offending doctrine” or “breaking rules,” including imprisonment or enslavement.

It wasn’t until Frost Moon of Ansu 736, when the White Knight led the people to storm the grand cathedral of Luan City, and the Supreme Council issued a decree disarming all church militias and stripping religious courts of their power, that these restrictions began to loosen. After more than two years of social reform, some bold, educated common women finally started wearing trousers in public.

Beyond the southern borders, general education was only just beginning, and social reforms were in their infancy. Even with the Council encouraging acceptance of the new order, few dared challenge the lingering old customs.

In the rear half of the train, inside a special carriage, Victoria Wilde sat opposite a slightly stout nobleman, the Count of Barin. Her silver-white hair framed a face of cold, noble grace, and she wore a court gown. She withdrew her gaze from the window and nodded slightly.

“Count Barin, what are your thoughts?”

The Northern High Chancellor had recently completed a phase of official duties in Saint Suniel. Due to work requirements, she was traveling to the imperial capital to report, accompanied by several officials from the Saint Suniel Council and the Count of Barin, who assisted her with local affairs.

The count glanced at the platform outside with a complicated expression. “So many things here are unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I once thought that, while not a scholar, I was fairly well-traveled. But here… I can’t even find the right words.”

He shook his head. “No matter how you look at it, this place truly lives up to its reputation as a ‘challenge to conventional thinking.’ I can’t tell who among those outside are commoners, citizens, or nobles… Oh, the nobles are easier to spot. That man just now, walking tall with an attendant, must be a minor noble. But the rest? It’s hard to say.”

Victoria neither confirmed nor denied his remarks, instead glancing out the window again, murmuring to herself, “Richer and more vibrant than anywhere in the north.”

“Indeed. The commoners wear quite refined clothes, and those women in men’s attire… Ah, I shouldn’t be so crude, but it’s the first time I’ve seen women wearing anything beyond riding breeches or fencing trousers…” The count trailed off, clearly at a loss for words, then shrugged awkwardly. “And look at those skirts—such vivid colors, and they all seem brand new.”

“Trade with the Typhon Empire has brought cheap textiles, and with our own textile and garment factories, clothing is no longer a luxury for commoners,” Victoria said coolly. “But in the south, what’s been broken isn’t just the ‘price’ of clothes, but the ‘customs’ entwined with these everyday necessities…”

The count sighed. “The southern ‘custom regulations’ seem unusually relaxed. I never imagined so many churches and nobles would so quickly accept the Council’s new decrees and the reforms to social etiquette… In this, they seem far wiser than the stubborn churches and nobles of the north.”

“‘Wise’?” Victoria’s eyes, as cold and clear as ice and snow, fixed on him. “Count Barin, the southern clergy and nobles only became enlightened after the bombardment of the Shattered Ridge and the Great Trial of Luan City. The logic is the same as when the Mountain Legion was formed and the northern barbarians suddenly went from fierce warriors to skilled performers.”

The count’s expression faltered, unsure how to respond. The “Ice Snow Duchess” of the north’s lips curved slightly as if to herself. “What I’ve seen here may have given me a hint…”

A chill crept over the count, but standing beside Duchess Victoria, he was used to the cold and quickly adjusted. He twisted his neck, looking around and then toward the carriage entrance not far away.

The attendants, guards, maids, and officials traveling with them filled this carriage. Behind it were two more specially equipped carriages with rest rooms, also reserved by the High Chancellor’s party. But the count knew there were many other “ordinary” passengers on this train. Even these carriages were only theirs for the journey; once it ended, new travelers would take their place.

Because all of this belonged to the “public.”

This made the count, accustomed to his private carriage and griffon, somewhat uneasy.

“Your Grace, why choose to travel by ‘train’?” he asked. “A private magi-carriage or griffon would better suit your status…”

“Have you ever experienced a ‘train’?” Victoria’s gaze swept over him, her tone cool.

“No… I haven’t,” the count shook his head. “You know, the north doesn’t have these yet.”

“Neither have I. That’s why I want to try it,” Victoria said calmly. “Every time I come here, there’s so much worth… experiencing.”

She turned her head, looking through the transparent crystal glass beside the carriage at the platform outside.

A massive mechanical clock stood midway along the platform. Its long, black iron hand ticked forward, one notch at a time.

Noticing Victoria’s gaze, the count asked curiously, “What are you looking at?”

Some passengers waiting for the next train and a few staff had gathered near the clock, all looking up at the ticking hand and the gears turning behind the glass face, their expressions tinged with anticipation and joy.

“Something soon to be introduced across the entire empire.”

The clock’s second hand moved steadily toward the top. On either side of the platform, holographic projections indicating boarding closure had risen. A faint vibration hummed beneath the train.

“Introduced across the empire?” the count frowned. “Clocks? We have those in the north too—though mostly only in churches and noble estates…”

Before he finished, the long hand aligned with the clock’s apex. At almost the same moment, a clear, melodious whistle sounded from the top of the carriage, echoing across the platform and startling the count.

The train’s repulsion engines clicked and turned in unison, runes lit up in sequence, and the massive steel machine roared to life, slowly accelerating and pulling away into the open fields.

“Punctuality, Count Barin,” Victoria withdrew her gaze from the window. “And the pursuit of ‘being on time.’ It’s part of the new order.”

On the receding platform, the passengers and staff watching the mechanical clock broke into applause, some even cheering softly.

This was a small amusement during idle moments, a “southern specialty” at train stations, a pastime that had recently become popular among travelers and station workers alike.

Trains were not always punctual; delays were common in the railway system. Yet His Majesty the Emperor had decreed that every station and train be equipped with standardized mechanical clocks, synchronized through the southern maginet communications network. The scheduling and dispatching processes were continually optimized.

Since the factories in Cecil City began operating, the Supreme Council had worked tirelessly to instill a sense of “time consciousness” into people’s lives. These station clocks were clearly part of that effort.

And the effort bore fruit—at least, people were now striving for punctuality. A train departing on time was a source of pride for the southerners.

…

Victoria Wilde, the High Chancellor from the north, would soon arrive in the south to report on her duties.

In Cecil City, in the southern district of the Mage Quarter, a tall man with short silver hair named Findel Wilde stood by a window facing the street. He held the morning’s freshly purchased newspaper, his gaze fixed on a headline on the front page.

The paper felt heavy in his hands, the headline heavy on his mind, and his heart weighed down.

A knock sounded at the door. Findel lifted his burdened head, adjusted his expression, and politely said, “Please come in.”

The door swung open, and Eleven Franklin appeared in the doorway. The heir of the Western Territories was clutching a newspaper in his hand, and as soon as he stepped inside, he waved it excitedly. “Findel, it looks like the Duchess Victoria is coming to the Southern Lands very soon!”

Findel lifted his own newspaper listlessly. “I already know.”

“Oh… right, you do read the papers too,” Eleven nodded in realization, then glanced curiously at Findel’s expression. “What’s wrong, my friend? You don’t seem very happy.”

Findel shot him a sharp look. “It’s probably the same feeling you’d have if you suddenly found out your father was coming to visit you tomorrow.”

“Ah, well, I’d be happy about that,” Eleven said cheerfully. “After all, I just passed all the first-level exams for the four academies. Mr. Santis said I was the only one in this batch to pass all four on the first try—turns out all those late nights studying and pestering the tutors really paid off…”

Findel buried his face in his hand.

He’d completely forgotten how astonishing Eleven’s talent for studying was.

As for himself, his strengths lay in frost magic and other combat skills.

That was why he’d only passed the first-level exam at the Military Academy—and, well… he was seriously unbalanced in his studies.

The noble knowledge, heraldry, etiquette, and arts he’d learned were not useless at the academy; rather, they were considered electives.

Thinking of his ever-strict aunt, Findel’s usually optimistic spirit sank again, as if his heart had been filled with the ice and frozen earth of the Northern Territories.

If only he’d taken the time before leaving to properly understand the detailed curriculum of the Imperial Academy. It might not have helped him improve his grades quickly, but at least he would have been better prepared mentally.

Eleven watched Findel’s expression shift and easily guessed what was on his mind. He patted his friend’s shoulder—a bit of a stretch, since he was at least a head shorter. “Relax, my friend. Didn’t you say before that coming south, the academy was only part of the journey? The ‘Shadowplay’ we created with Philm is finished now. Isn’t that something to be proud of?”

“Shadowplay…”

Hearing the word, much of Findel’s irritation melted away.

Yes, after all this time and effort, with so many people pouring their hearts into it, the world’s first-ever “Shadowplay” was finally complete.

He turned his gaze toward the window.

Large posters promoting the Shadowplay—what His Majesty the Emperor called “posters”—had been pasted along the roadside. The recent days’ magical network broadcasts had also been introducing and promoting this new creation. Now, he could just make out the poster across the street—

A mechanical ship, packed with passengers, sailed along the broad Gorgon River. Several distinct main characters appeared in the background of the image. Below it all was the finalized title of the Shadowplay—

The Immigrants.

Simple, straightforward, and unadorned.

“Indeed… this is the first time in over a decade that I’ve felt this kind of pride,” Findel smiled, a note of wonder in his voice. “I never imagined that once you set aside all your titles and traditions, working together with people from all walks of life to accomplish something—that it could be so joyful.”

Eleven smiled too. “I’m glad I listened to your advice and took part in something so meaningful…”

Findel glanced at his friend with a smile and gave his shoulder a friendly pat.

“So, my friend, mind if I borrow the answers to the second set of geometry problems?”

“…?”

(End of chapter)