Chapter 898: The Travelogue

After finishing the meeting at the Intelligence Bureau, Amber headed straight to Gawain’s study.

Gawain was seated carefully at his desk, leafing through an ancient book that had just been fully restored and reinforced. His eyes traced the faded pages and the letters painstakingly redrawn by the bookbinder. The faint scent of alchemical potions still lingered in the air, drifting into his nostrils. The contents of this old travelogue often sent him into deep thought—until a sudden voice from thin air interrupted him.

“Hey! I just got out of a meeting and already hear you calling for me!” Amber’s figure materialized with her usual boundless enthusiasm. “Another job that needs some coin to process?”

Gawain looked up from the book and smiled faintly at Amber standing before him. He gestured to the chair beside his desk. “Sit down. I have something I want you to see.”

Amber immediately sensed something unusual behind Gawain’s smile and tone. Despite her carefree demeanor, the half-elf’s ears twitched and her brow furrowed suspiciously. “What is it… what do you want to show me?”

Gawain stood, exhaled deeply, and gently pushed the ancient tome forward. “Here—don’t worry, it’s been restored. It won’t fall apart easily.”

“A book?” Amber blinked in surprise, instinctively taking it. But her casual expression soon froze. Something stirred deep within her—a complex, incredulous look flickered in her eyes. Slowly, she looked up at Gawain. “…This is the book?”

“Yes. We’ve found solid evidence,” Gawain nodded. “An unknown shadow thief once tried to steal it from a certain church. That’s why it was sent to the library of the Grant Cathedral of Saint Luan for safekeeping. We cross-referenced every piece of information we could find, and confirmed it’s the very book your foster father tried to steal back then.”

“This is it… all for this…” Amber’s ever-cheerful expression faded. She gripped the worn cover tightly, then loosened her hold as if afraid to damage it. Her fingers traced the restored letters, her gaze shifting repeatedly—neither tears nor smiles came.

After a long pause, she looked up at Gawain. “I saw you were reading it just now… What’s so special about this book?”

“Strictly speaking, it’s a compilation—several fragments stitched together by a clumsy editor. Among the parts, the largest and the one I think caught your foster father’s interest is a travelogue.”

Amber’s eyes widened. “A travelogue?”

“The ‘Modir Travelogue,’” Gawain nodded. “Written by Modir Wilde, Duke of the Northern Territories six hundred years ago.”

As head of intelligence, Amber was well acquainted with the name and its history. She gasped. “You mean the lost journal of the Wilde family? The one Victoria mentioned to you?”

Gawain nodded again, gesturing to the book in Amber’s hands. “It’s right here.”

“But… why would my foster father…” Amber looked down at the travelogue with a puzzled expression. “Was it worth risking so much for?”

“I’ve been trying to find out,” Gawain said. “I’ve been searching the travelogue for clues, but haven’t found anything yet. There’s just a little left to check. Maybe we can look together. If your foster father took such a risk because he heard something in this travelogue—and if his intel was accurate—we should find it.”

Amber nodded eagerly and sat beside Gawain, opening the book. After a glance, she scratched her head awkwardly. “Uh… looks like you’ll have to do most of the deciphering…”

The travelogue’s main text was filled with dizzying, obscure words and phrases—six-century-old common tongue, closer to the ancient language of the Gondor Empire. Though modern common tongue evolved from it, centuries of change had altered spelling and grammar so much that understanding it was nearly as difficult as reading an ancient Gondorian manuscript.

Amber could barely make out a few short phrases. To fully comprehend it would require a seasoned scholar or a learned cleric well-versed in ancient texts—or, of course, an old soul resurrected from the Gondor era.

Gawain knew this well. Without hesitation, he slid the book closer and began working through the text with Amber.

The travelogue brimmed with astonishing detail. Its author—the Northern Duke Modir Wilde—was unlike any noble of his time. Living closer to the era of the original pioneers, he was deeply influenced by the first Duke Wilde, making him far more adventurous—and recklessly innovative—than his descendants.

His footsteps marked every corner of the known world then accessible to humans—some places no one else had ever set foot. After settling his ducal duties, his journeys became even more astonishing: from the ruins bordering Gondor’s wastelands to the mysterious Violet Kingdom, from the frozen peaks of the Saint Dragon Duchy to the deserts of eastern Typhon, even venturing into elemental-infested otherworldly spaces and drifting fragments of unknown cosmic origin.

Each new place he explored, Modir entrusted his carefully compiled notes to a loyal servant waiting safely behind, then recorded fresh accounts during his travels. Upon returning, he would organize the new notes with the old and carry them into his next adventure.

To Amber, born centuries later, this was hard to fathom. After reading several thrilling entries, she frowned. “Why would such a high-ranking noble be so obsessed with adventure? Many of these ‘adventures’ go far beyond leisure—they’re practically courting death…”

“He was from the generation closest to the pioneers,” Gawain explained, shaking his head. “Their parents and grandparents deeply influenced them. Many believed humanity would one day return to Gondor’s former glory. To prepare for that day, they vowed to tread every inch of this continent, mapping safe borders for human civilization. I never met Modir’s generation, but based on mine, I can imagine what their children were like. I’m sure Modir Wilde wasn’t the only adventurer—just the only noble and extraordinary figure whose notes survived.”

Amber blinked, half understanding, then returned her gaze to the latter half of the travelogue. Nearby, Gawain’s eyes slowed as he scanned certain passages.

Amber noticed immediately. “What did you find?”

“I think I’ve found what interested your foster father…” Gawain said, flipping quickly through the last few pages, skimming the content. After several shifts in expression, he furrowed his brow.

“Then read it to me,” Amber urged, growing impatient. “I’m sure it’s about my origins or something—I’m ready for it. Just tell me…”

“In his later years, Modir Wilde explored the Shadow Realm and successfully established contact with its inhabitants…” Gawain said after a moment’s thought, pointing to the lines in the travelogue.

Below are Modir Wilde’s own words:

“Day X, Month X… After several failed attempts, I finally found a weak point in the real world—a natural shadow rift. This rift can be expanded and stabilized through ritual, allowing a human to fully enter and remain for an extended time, unlike other shadow practitioners who only briefly traverse the shadow border. I’m unsure if ancient Gondorian mages used this method to open shadow gates, but it’s the best I’ve found…

“Day X, Month X… With preparations complete, the rift opened. It was as stable as I imagined, though smaller than expected—still sufficient. I plan to cross at the peak of shadow power tonight. Wish me luck…

“…The world beyond is even more desolate and eerie than I imagined… Colorless, lifeless, built entirely of black, white, and gray… Objects from the real world appear here as bizarre, distorted projections. The small town I temporarily reside in manifests as heaps of twisted architectural debris, while distant mountains seem to have become writhing black mist…

“This world is clearly inhospitable to ordinary life and offers no obvious resources, but I will press on. The good news is that despite elemental imbalance, magic here remains as potent as outside—I can wield over eighty percent of my power…

“Day X, Month X… I encountered the creatures! They resemble humans, wearing strange rune-like cloth, like smoke bound into humanoid form… They drifted past from afar—I believe I did not disturb them. I am certain these are the legendary Shadow Dwellers, intelligent residents of the Shadow Realm. Only a few shadow masters have ever glimpsed these mysterious beings, and none have succeeded in communicating with them…

“I, Modir Wilde, the most powerful human spellcaster in this land—though not a shadow mage—intend to challenge this. I will attempt to establish contact. Perhaps they can reveal the secrets of this strange world…

“Day X, Month X… No success.

“Day X, Month X… No success.

“Day X, Month X… Fully prepared, even returning to the real world to perform special rituals. I believe I have gained enough experience, including how to counter their elusive, intangible forms and their growing numbers. I have no weaknesses left.

“Day X, Month X… No success.

“Modir, oh Modir! Look at your shameful record! You are the most powerful human spellcaster in this land! How can you be driven to retreat time and again by a group of strange enemies who only mutter incoherently?

“Day X, Month X… No success.

“I think it’s time to outsmart them.”

“I’m no longer young. It’s time to act like an old mage who relies on strategy fitting his age… If I play my cards right, maybe those shadow dwellers will be reasonable after all.

“I’m going to preserve every bit of my past failures intact. Perhaps they’ll serve as warnings to future adventurers. Sure, it might tarnish my reputation, but as an adventurer, it’s my duty to try different paths. Even the most embarrassing experiences are valuable lessons—I can’t hide my defeats.

“On the bright side, I’m old enough now that I don’t have to rush to publish these records. I can leave them as my last words, letting my descendants share them with the world. That way, I won’t have to hear the mockery… and who knows, maybe someone will even appreciate my sense of humor…”

Gawain had skimmed through this earlier, so he still managed to keep a straight face. Amber, however, couldn’t help but twitch the corner of her mouth, and after a moment, she blurted out, “This guy’s got a big brain…”

Gawain: “He’s one of Victoria’s ancestors…”

Amber: “So that’s what they mean by ‘great wisdom often looks like foolishness’…”

“Just a rather… unique personality,” Gawain said solemnly but calmly, pointing to the next passage. “Let’s continue. He’s starting to try a special approach to get close to those shadow dwellers.”

Amber quickly zipped her lips and leaned in—though she didn’t fully understand, she followed Gawain’s finger down the page:

“…The shadow dwellers seem to fiercely reject any uninvited outsiders. They see me as an invader from the real world, which is why they keep refusing to communicate. So what if I make myself look like a creature from the shadow realm?

“This idea is bold but feasible. I know some special rituals and potions—large doses of shadow elixirs might not be great for the stomach, but maybe they’ll make the shadow dwellers friendlier toward me. A bit of stomach trouble is a small price to pay…

“Day X, Month X… I performed the ritual as planned, transforming myself into a form resembling a shadow creature, and took a hefty dose of the shadow potion. I found an old friend who knows shadow magic—he said I now ‘look just like a shadow.’ With that, I should be foolproof.

“I decided to try contacting the shadow dwellers tonight—my shadow power will be at its peak, and my disguise should be flawless.

“Day X, Month X: Didn’t make it.

“Came back with severe diarrhea.

“…(Gondor’s curse words) (Ansu’s curse words) (Northern curse words) (Indecent and vulgar language)”

(End of chapter)