Chapter 915: A Ship Comes from the North
The chill of autumn had settled in. The brief warm season in the northern regions of the continent had long since passed. As the constellation Frostsky climbed higher into the heavens, the vast expanse of the Northern Lorren mainland gradually fell under the grip of cold winds. From the endless northern wastelands bordering the ocean, across the sprawling plains dotted with city-states, to the mosswood forests where the gray elves had dwelled for generations, everyone was preparing for the approaching winter.
They stockpiled fuel for the cold months, hurriedly dried fish and pickled vegetables under the last rays of autumn sun, repaired homes damaged by the fall rains, and dug out thick quilts and warm clothes. Except for the Cecil Empire, where magitech had already entered civilian use, most people in this world still lived much as they always had. Though the magitech from distant lands was beginning to change some lives and bring new wonders to these ancient lands, such transformations would take time.
Rupert, a short-statured gray elf, pushed a cart full of charcoal down the street. The wind was much colder than the day before, biting at his face and sneaking inside his collar, making him instinctively hunch his neck. He looked up and around at this still unfamiliar city, his nose twitching slightly.
He was still struggling to adapt to city life—it was no easy task.
Compared to the forest he was used to, this “great forest” built by humans felt too vast, too cold and hard, too crowded and chaotic. Every day he dealt with countless strangers, performed unfamiliar tasks, and heard confusing news. At the end of the day, he returned to a strange home—comforted only by his wife and two children who had moved here with him. They were his greatest motivation to settle down and put down roots in this alien city.
After all, despite the unfamiliar environment, city life was far more comfortable and convenient than the forest. As a gray elf skilled in handling herbal materials, Rupert’s income from the distillation and refining factory was enough to provide his family with a warm home. His wife no longer had to worry about wild beasts or poisonous insects lurking in the woods. And the children? They quite enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the big city.
Another gust of cold wind blew, and Rupert’s nose twitched again. He glanced down at the cart of charcoal—purchased from a charcoal kiln in the south. Along with what they had already bought, the family’s winter fuel supply was complete. Life in the city was different from the forest; here, you couldn’t just go out and gather firewood. Heating fuel had to be bought. The charcoal kiln was run by a shrewd gray elf merchant, whom Rupert suspected was the richest gray elf he’d ever met. Yet, strangely, whenever he recalled the details of their transaction, he always remembered the merchant’s furrowed brow and worried expression.
Pushing his cart through the city center, a soft, pleasant melody suddenly drifted into Rupert’s ears. He looked up instinctively and saw a massive crystal apparatus proudly standing in the square before the chieftain’s longhouse. The enormous magical device shimmered with glowing runes, a large crystal slowly rotating atop a metallic base. The gentle music came from somewhere within this structure.
He recalled the name of the device: the Mana Obelisk. Since arriving in the city, it had been the most astonishing thing he’d seen. Rupert had no idea how the people of the eastern Cecil Empire had built such an incredible contraption, but he knew that this obelisk powered the entire square and the surrounding streets. The unusually bright street lamps and certain “machines” in factories all ran on its energy.
Moreover, the obelisk played traditional gray elf music every day from sunrise to sunset.
This second function was said to have been personally commissioned by the chieftain and engineered by the gray elves’ own magitech specialists. Rupert didn’t understand concepts like “technical exchange” or “foreign expert guidance,” but he knew the city’s residents welcomed the music. It helped ease the suspicions of those wary of magitech, and many enthusiastic citizens would gather to dance or play instruments along with the melodies—just like during a festival.
A slightly hoarse, gender-neutral voice suddenly interrupted Rupert’s thoughts: “Citizen, do you need assistance?”
Startled, Rupert turned to see a tall, muscular woman standing beside him—a towering orc, nearly three times his height. Beneath her soft, beautiful fur rippled strong muscles, and a fearsome battle axe hung on her back. The orc guard looked at him—not with hostility, but with a gaze sharp enough to make this country-bred gray elf nervous.
“N-no… nothing, I was just daydreaming,” Rupert stammered, waving his hands awkwardly.
“Good. Then don’t daze off for too long,” the orc said casually, her eyes drifting to the cart of charcoal. She frowned. “I just hope we won’t need to burn charcoal much longer. That stuff’s terrible for fur.”
“Huh?” Rupert was surprised by the guard’s friendliness and curious about her words. “Ma’am, what do you mean? No more charcoal?”
“I mean no more need to burn charcoal,” the orc replied, eyeing the confused gray elf. “Haven’t you heard? They’re building magitech heating stations north and south of the city. According to those ‘Cecil contractors,’ once the stations are up, whole streets will be warmed by just a few heat conduits. No fire hazards, no choking smoke, and no more unlucky orcs with singed tails. Of course, that’s at least until next year…”
Rupert listened as if hearing a foreign language. Terms like “magitech heating station” and “heat conduits” were from another world. Even longtime city dwellers probably didn’t fully understand these “magitech engines.” Over the past few days, he’d heard eight different versions of how they supposedly worked, all from local tavern talk. The things the Cecil merchants brought were truly baffling.
All Rupert could be sure of was that these seemingly magical machines were man-made—just a collection of ordinary iron parts and crystals. No little demons lived inside, and no souls were harvested, as the Cecilians repeatedly assured, even the chieftain personally guaranteed this to the citizens.
He shook his head, setting aside his confusion about “how to heat without charcoal” for now. After all, it sounded like a thing for next year. He glanced down at the orc guard’s tail—an instinctive, cautious look that didn’t escape the professional warrior’s notice. She immediately flicked her tail behind her and shot him a sharp glance.
Rupert quickly shrank his neck and hurriedly pushed his cart forward.
Though he couldn’t be sure if this imposing soldier had ever had her tail singed by charcoal fire, he now understood why the shrewd, wealthy charcoal merchant always wore a worried expression…
Morilina watched the slow retreat of the somewhat dull-witted gray elf pushing his cart, a faint purring sound escaping her throat like a feline’s. Then she glanced at the mechanical clock hanging near the chieftain’s longhouse, confirming the time was near. She strolled toward the massive crystal device in the center of the square.
Next to the Mana Obelisk, which powered most of the city, stood a smaller apparatus—a magic network terminal with a triangular base and clear crystal components.
This terminal had been installed three days ago. Countless citizens had speculated about its purpose, but today it would finally be put to use.
Several technicians were busy tuning the complex magitech device. Two of them were humans with distinct foreign accents, inspecting the crystals and giving instructions. The others were small gray elves, dressed in white short robes, clutching papers and pens, listening nervously and intently like apprentices.
None of them paid any attention to the female guard who approached—the curious but magitech-illiterate warrior had no impact on their work.
Under their efforts, the smaller device finally powered up—right on schedule.
With a faint hum and crackle, a bright light screen appeared out of thin air. A large magical projection instantly materialized in the center of the square, bursting with vivid colors and beautiful sounds—
Morilina, axe strapped to her back, bristled instantly like a keen feline hunter and leapt back, nearly reaching for her weapon. But she quickly realized the device was only projecting harmless images—and the figure appearing was a gray elf who looked quite nervous.
She felt a bit embarrassed; even her dense white fur couldn’t hide the faint blush on her face. Yet the startled citizens around her paid no attention to such small details. They watched the sudden magical image with surprise and curiosity, hearing a voice from within:
“This… this is the Mosswood Magic Network Broadcast, first transmission. Today we bring you scenes from Whitefeather Harbor. Our chieftain, Lady Wenna Whitebloom, will…”
The autumn wind swept through the low coastal woods, carrying moisture-laden air past the harbor’s homes and watch posts. A long pier stretched from the land out into the endless sea, the blue waves gently rolling at its end, shimmering under the sunlight.
Blue sea, clear sky, rippling waves, the constant sound of wind and seabirds—such sights were rare deep in the Mosswood.
Wenna Whitebloom stood on the pier of this small harbor, flanked by her trusted guards and advisors.
Not far from her were representatives from the Dwarven Kingdom, having traveled a long way.
“The time should be about right…” Wenna murmured to herself.
“Yes, chieftain,” a human in a brown robe with a silver circlet nodded. “The last signal indicated they’re only an hour from the harbor. The northern watchtower also reported a ship’s silhouette at sea—it should be arriving soon.”
Wenna gave a small nod and looked toward a nearby clearing, where a group of technicians gathered around a brand-new, expensive-looking magitech machine. The crystal apparatus fixed atop it gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight.
The strange machine made the leader of the Grey Elves feel a flicker of unease, but she quickly dispelled it with ease. She knew her image had already been captured by that marvelous device and transmitted back to Windsong City deep within the Mosswood, as well as to Sambitok City on the eastern edge of the forest—currently the only two cities in the Mosswood equipped with the magical network and linked by communication devices. These were the “magic network pilot” cities of the entire Ogure tribe nation. As the chief driving force behind the whole project, she understood that today she had to perform flawlessly and impressively.
“I just hope the citizens of Windsong and Sambitok won’t be too startled when they see the magic network broadcast for the first time,” she murmured softly, her voice low enough for only her advisors nearby to hear. “This thing is nothing like the magical devices they’ve encountered before.”
“New things always make people nervous at first,” replied a human advisor wearing a silver circlet, also in a hushed tone. “When the Cecils saw the magic network broadcast for the first time, they were just as amazed. But after the initial shock, the brave and curious always come forward. As long as we encourage and guide them well, new things will grow quickly.”
Wenna gave a quiet hum of agreement and lifted her gaze once more toward the distant sea, though her attention was fixed on the modest pier visible in her line of sight.
It was just a small harbor, and if not for recent emergency repairs and expansions, its condition would be far worse now.
After all, its original purpose was merely to serve local fishermen, who only ventured as far as the nearshore boundary.
“White Feather Harbor is just a fishing village…” Wenna whispered, “But maybe, starting today, it will be so much more than that…”
Suddenly, a clear, piercing whistle cut through the air, as if slicing across the sea itself, reaching every ear present.
“They’re here! They’re here!”
Voices from the crowd at the harbor rose in excitement. Even the Grey Elf representatives on the pier and the dwarven envoys who had traveled from afar craned their necks in unison, all turning toward the shimmering surface of the water. Amid the rolling waves and the sparkling sunlight, a ship forged of steel, cloaked in a flickering magical shield, with strange wing-like panels spread wide on either side, was cutting through the wind and waves, sailing steadily toward them.
A ship was coming from the north.
(End of chapter)