Chapter 832: The Stranger from the South
Inside the brightly lit R&D workshop, the prototype of the Steel Wings was being dismantled piece by piece, its components laid out carefully on platforms and stands.
Beneath the massive metal wings, the twisted and broken framework stood out starkly.
With a clatter of tools, Rebecca crawled out from under one of the giant wing structures, her face smudged with grease and a freshly removed part clutched in her hand.
“A magic capacitor used for load balancing has burned out,” Rebecca explained to the nearby technicians, holding up the round component. “This is likely the main cause of the entire system’s imbalance. All the other mechanical failures and deformations happened during the crash.”
Maggie leaned in curiously, eyeing the disc-shaped part. “What caused it? Why did it suddenly overload?”
“If I’m right… it’s probably because the acceleration was too rapid, causing excess waste energy to build up faster than it could be released,” Rebecca frowned. “Then you performed a large-scale maneuver—like a sharp roll or something—and that blew the magic capacitor. We really didn’t account for this… Humans can’t pull off moves like that; their bodies wouldn’t handle it. We still don’t fully understand dragons.”
Rebecca muttered to herself, but Maggie’s expression grew awkward. She lowered her head, a hint of guilt in her voice: “It’s… my fault.”
Rebecca shook her head immediately. “No, the failure during flight points to a design flaw—the magic capacitor has a limited load capacity. We should have put restrictions in place from the start. On the bright side, it means the problem is fixable through redesign and retesting. If it were a material strength issue, that would be a much bigger headache.”
Though not an expert in arcane engineering, Maggie had been a test pilot with Rebecca’s team long enough to understand the technical terms and concepts. She knew the design flaw was something they could overcome, unlike a fundamental material defect.
Still, a trace of shame lingered in her heart. After all, she was the one who caused the crash.
The intoxicating feeling of soaring through the sky had overwhelmed the young dragonborn. She admitted she’d been too caught up in that freedom to monitor the Steel Wings’ status closely. There must have been warning signs before the capacitor overloaded—if only she hadn’t been so lost in the thrill of flight, the crash might have been avoided.
Rebecca, usually not one to read people well, at least sensed Maggie’s thoughts now. She waved her hand emphatically. “Don’t dwell on it. Test pilots are meant to push prototypes to their limits. Equipment damage is inevitable. It’s better to find these issues during test flights than after mass production, when accidents could happen.”
Then, as if remembering something, the Cecil Steelball scratched her chin and shifted the topic: “By the way, you might want to think about how you’re going to apologize to Miss Tyr…”
Maggie blinked, confused. “Miss Tyr?”
“I saw her pacing the hallway yesterday, telling everyone she got smacked in the face by a falling iron chin—this is the second time you’ve hit her. Last time it was with the Dragon Cavalry prototype.”
Maggie: “…”
The sunset’s golden glow spilled over the northern mountain ranges, bathing the jagged ridges in soft light. The majestic Winterhold Fortress stood atop the snow and rock, overlooking the frozen wilderness below—a landscape starkly different from the bustling, warm south. Here, the grandeur was quieter, more bone-deep and vast.
Byron, visiting this northern city for the first time, stood on a terrace overlooking most of the town. The breathtaking northern scenery filled his gaze. As a mercenary by trade, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of awe for the empire’s vastness and splendor—
“…There sure are a hell of a lot of mountains.”
After racking his brain and coming up with nothing more poetic, Byron scratched his chin awkwardly. Maybe Philip was right to tell him to read more books—at least then he’d have some fancy words to describe a view like this.
Just then, a voice interrupted from behind, breaking his reverie and deepening his embarrassment: “General Byron, what were you just saying?”
Byron turned stiffly to see Duchess Victoria in a white dress standing on the terrace, her expression curious. His mouth twitched as he awkwardly scratched his face and forced a laugh. “Ah, just talking to myself.”
Victoria regarded him for a moment, apparently unconvinced but not pressing further. She nodded slightly. “The banquet hall is ready. As an imperial general, it’s time for you to make an appearance.”
Byron’s face tightened with reluctant acceptance, but he said nothing and followed her inside.
The envoy from the Holy Dragon Principality had yet to arrive. Tonight’s banquet was a preliminary introduction to the northern elite.
A general from the southern empire leading a construction corps to build the North Harbor and related facilities along the northern coast was a big deal. The local nobility and new government officials wanted to size up this man from the capital. For Byron, this kind of “proper upper-class socializing” was far from comfortable.
Inside the brightly lit Winterhold Fortress hall, the banquet was laid out with fine wines and exquisite dishes along long tables. A band played light, refined music in the corner. Nobles and officials in colorful formalwear mingled, discussing the stranger from the south and the upcoming North Harbor project.
Victoria led Byron through the crowd, introducing him to these influential but unfamiliar faces.
Everyone wore smiles, polite and warm, carefully measured in their friendliness, sincerely welcoming the “Emperor’s will incarnate.”
Byron wore his deep blue imperial general’s uniform, trimmed with gold tassels and sashes. As a knight with a mercenary past, he was ill-suited to this high-society life, but as a soldier, he could maintain a cold, impassive demeanor without seeming rude.
He was also skilled at reading people.
He could clearly feel that most here regarded him—the outsider—with suspicion and guarded curiosity. That didn’t surprise him in the least.
After chatting with yet another Count So-and-So, Byron excused himself, citing the stifling atmosphere, and stepped out onto the balcony for some fresh air and mental respite.
Footsteps approached from the banquet hall. Byron turned to see Victoria Wilde walking toward him.
He raised his glass in greeting, then looked back out at the mountains fading into darkness, silently marveling again at just how many damn mountains there were.
Victoria’s voice came softly beside him: “General Byron, you seem quite taken with the northern landscape.”
“The mountains here… definitely outnumber those in the south,” Byron smiled. “They’re tall and majestic—impressive.”
“The North is so mountainous that flatlands and even hills are scarce,” Victoria said calmly. “Combined with the harsh climate, it’s not as hospitable as the south. To outsiders, the endless snow-capped peaks are breathtaking scenery; to locals, they’re a symbol of hardship. Since the founding of Ansar, this land has never been wealthy. It’s neither a grain-producing region nor a commercial hub—more like a snowy barrier protecting the kingdom’s northern gate. The tough living conditions and centuries of this ‘northern shield’ mentality have made northerners tougher and more resolute than others, but also harder to deal with.”
Byron wasn’t sure why the duchess brought this up, but his thoughts drifted back to the people inside the banquet hall. He gave a thoughtful nod but forgot to reply.
Victoria didn’t mind and continued: “General Byron, you’ve been sent by His Majesty to build the North Harbor. You’ll have to contend not only with the cold winds and frozen earth but also with the people of this harsh land. Would you like to hear my thoughts?”
“Of course,” Byron composed himself. “I’m about to start the North Harbor project. I’d appreciate your advice.”
“The North Harbor is a gateway—not just for the empire, but for the entire North. For this cold, barren land, such a gateway could bring tremendous change,” Victoria said quietly, her eyes deep and sincere. “If the northern circumnavigation route succeeds, much of the trade between the empire, the Holy Dragon Principality, the Ogure Tribes, the Dwarf Kingdom, and others will pass through the North Harbor. This will transform the North’s isolation and poverty. Thanks to the magic-driven era His Majesty ushered in, new technologies and commerce can bring prosperity to even inhospitable lands like this. Unfortunately, many northerners don’t realize this at first—that’s something you must understand.”
“I get it,” Byron nodded. “Developing the North Harbor will bring prosperity, but before they see real benefits, the locals will just see a bunch of outsiders messing around on their land and meddling in their lives. That’s definitely a problem.”
“But His Majesty still chose to send someone from the south—someone like you—instead of appointing a local northern governor to lead the project,” Victoria said, looking at Byron intently.
Byron was silent for two seconds, then suddenly smiled. “The North Harbor isn’t just a civilian port.”
“…Some say you’re a crude man who’s never read a book, but now I’m not so sure.”
Byron raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t read many books, but a mercenary’s cunning and insight don’t come from books.”
“…His Majesty’s choice to send you was clearly well thought out,” Victoria smiled faintly, her tone still calm. “You’re among the first soldiers trained by the Cecil Order, a model of the new officer class—you strictly obey discipline and uphold imperial interests, prioritizing orders over noble traditions. The construction corps you lead follows the same principles. The North Harbor must be built by someone like you, not any northern governor, not even me. Only then can the harbor truly belong to the empire, not the North.”
“But you seem rather indifferent about this,” Byron glanced at Victoria, genuinely curious.
“Your Majesty’s choice is absolutely right. As for me… when I chose the Order of Cecil, it was never a decision made on impulse,” Victoria replied calmly. “The old powers entrenched throughout the Empire are like stubborn thorns that are hard to uproot. Outside the southern regions, many parts of this country remain unsettled. Numerous old noble families still hold sway, and completely eradicating their influence will take a long time. Both Duke Bertram and I understand this, and we have resolved to fully support Your Majesty’s efforts to transform the nation. That’s why we sent our heirs to the capital and immediately backed the Cross-Artery Railway project.”
“General Byron, I’m telling you this today so you can focus entirely on your mission—North Harbor is an imperial project, and the Wilde family will give it our full support. Our family has thrived on this land for centuries and wields deep influence in the North. That’s undeniable. But from this day forward, no one under the Wilde family’s influence in the North will stand in the way of the North Harbor project. I can guarantee that.”
Byron gave Victoria a long, inscrutable look, a faint smile playing on his lips. “So, in other words, any local forces that obstruct the project after North Harbor breaks ground… aren’t truly Northerners.”
“In these harsh, remote borderlands, it’s normal for bandits to harass the construction corps, and it’s the corps’ duty to root them out. The Wilde family will fully support these righteous actions,” Victoria said coolly. She turned and gazed steadily toward the banquet hall. “Rest assured, those who try to stir trouble in secret will never dare show their faces openly. Bandits will remain bandits. After a few crackdowns, the restless ones will quiet down.”
Byron shook his head slightly. “I’m afraid that before North Harbor is completed, many will whisper that you’ve betrayed the Northern people.”
“Once North Harbor is finished, those very people will be the loudest in praising and supporting it,” Victoria said expressionlessly. “They will soon be awed and intimidated by the staggering scale of international trade and the Empire’s power displayed throughout the process. When it comes to their own interests, these people have no real convictions.”
“That’s a problem for you, the Grant Chancellor, to deal with,” Byron said casually. “I’m just a soldier, carrying out the Emperor’s orders. My mission is North Harbor and the fleet. Beyond that, I won’t overstep.”
Victoria nodded, then added, “Also, though it may be unnecessary to remind you, as Duke of the North, I must say this—please exercise caution. Some of those disrupting order might simply be civilians stirred up by agitators.”
“Duchess Victoria, I am a soldier,” Byron said, meeting her gaze steadily. “Distinguishing friend from foe is my most basic duty.”
“Then I have no worries at all.”
(End of chapter)