Chapter 954: Each Finding Their Own Peace

Andersa shook her head, brushing away the bold thought that had suddenly popped into her mind.

She wasn’t a believer herself—which was quite rare in this world—but even as a non-believer, she had never truly imagined what it would be like if the Empire’s army, officials, and the entire noble hierarchy above them completely removed the power of the clergy and the church. It was an audacious idea, far beyond the scope of a frontier general’s concerns.

“We’ve been out here long enough,” she sighed, speaking to the attendants beside her. “Time to head back to the fortress.”

As she spoke, she looked up to see the imperial banner fluttering atop a distant tower, whipped by the north wind. Three griffon riders and two battle mages patrolling low in the sky swept past, while further off, faint pale-blue magical eyes hovered among the clouds—mages from Winterwolf Keep keeping watch over the plains.

Since most of the war god’s priests had been reassigned, the garrison at Winterwolf Keep hadn’t weakened in the slightest. In fact, thanks to proactive redeployments and increased patrols, the defenses had grown even tighter than before. But this temporary bolstering came at a cost. Even a mighty empire couldn’t afford such waste indefinitely.

Hopefully, Aldern would come up with a solution soon.

With that thought, Andersa and her two attendants left the market behind and returned to Winterwolf Keep, which stood just outside the town.

She stepped into the castle, passing through corridors and climbing stairs to the second floor. As she emerged from the stairwell, one of her personal guards was waiting by the study door.

“General,” the guard greeted her with a quick salute upon seeing her. “There’s a letter for you—from Aldern, sealed with the purple iris.”

“Matilda’s letter, then,” Andersa said with a faint smile before quickly regaining her composure. She took the wax-sealed envelope from the guard and nodded slightly. “Thank you. You may leave.”

“Yes, General.”

After the guard left, Andersa entered the study and broke the wax seal. Her eyes caught the purple iris stamped in the corner of the letterhead. She unfolded the crisp white paper, and the familiar handwriting came into view.

The letter began with everyday pleasantries.

Relaxing slightly, Andersa slipped off the brown cloak draped over her uniform and held the letter in one hand as she slowly paced the study.

The letter spoke of recent changes in Aldern: the Royal Mage Association and the Typhon Communications Company were collaborating to upgrade the entire empire’s network of signal towers. The parliament had finished its discussions, and the royal family had issued orders. As Matilda had predicted in her last letter, this was an unstoppable development.

Andersa stopped by the window. The late afternoon light was dim but just right, casting a gentle glow on the letter—neither harsh nor dull, but soothing. Her gaze traced the elegant script, and for a moment, the stern expression she usually wore before her subordinates softened into a faint smile.

“…I recently went to see a ‘shadow magic play’ that’s become quite popular among the young nobles. Surprisingly, it was very entertaining—though admittedly rough and restless, quite different from traditional theater. I must admit privately, it was more captivating than any other play I’ve seen…

“But I can’t help but worry. These shadow plays, created by the Cecilian people, are modeled after Cecilian culture. Many young nobles have started drinking Cecilian Karna wine and mixed teas—yet only a few years ago, most of ‘Ansu’s’ customs were scorned by them…”

Andersa gently turned the page, the paper rustling softly.

It was just a personal letter, seemingly written as thoughts came to Matilda’s mind. After describing changes in the capital, she shared some insights from her recent studies of arcane technology and mathematics—topics Andersa found difficult to fully grasp, though thankfully that section was brief. The letter then moved on to describe other novelties brought by Cecilian merchants into the empire.

Finally, as the sun dipped and the sky took on a faint red hue, Andersa’s eyes reached the letter’s end. Matilda’s delicate handwriting stretched across the page in neat lines:

“…Andersa, since you left the capital, even greater changes have taken place. Many things are hard to put into words in a letter—I only hope you’ll have the chance to see them with your own eyes…

“The times have changed. Many developments have exceeded our expectations, even those of my father, the parliament, and the advisors.

“The empire’s markets in the southern continent are expanding rapidly. The Kingdom of Gaoling and the elves are trading with the Typhons. Count Dyson has opened the first near-sea trade route and established an outpost on Tasos Island. We’re reclaiming those ancient colonial isles in the outer seas. More and more young people are heading south and to the eastern coast, seeking opportunities.

“A few years ago, most of us believed the empire needed a foreign war—I thought so too. But now, it’s different. What it needs is peace, at least for now. That’s the greater benefit for the Typhons.

“I hope you think the same…”

Andersa exhaled softly, folding the letter back up. After a few seconds of quiet, she shook her head with a wry smile.

Once, her orders had been to monitor Cecilian movements and strike decisively when the time came. Though she hadn’t succeeded fully, she had never disobeyed those orders. Now, her orders were to defend the border, maintain order, and preserve peace with Cecilia. This directive clashed with her personal feelings, but she would carry it out resolutely.

The empire’s interests came before personal sentiment—that was only natural.

“You worry too much… I’m not all muscle up here,” she muttered to herself.

With that, she flicked the letter into the air. Flames sprang up, consuming the thin sheets until only ash drifted away.

She kept the envelope—carefully smoothing out its slight creases before placing it in a small cabinet beside her desk.

The military had strict rules: private letters received by senior officers could not be kept. They had to be burned after reading, regardless of content—even if the letter was blank. Andersa never broke her own rules.

Keeping the envelope was the closest she could come to bending them.

She then sat at her desk, unfolded a fresh sheet of paper, and prepared to write a reply.

But before putting pen to paper, she paused, gazing at the familiar desk. Suddenly, a thought came unbidden—if her father were still alive, what would he do? What would he say?

Her father was different. She only knew how to solve problems like a soldier, but he had broader knowledge and more flexible tactics. If it were him, he would surely handle the current complexities with ease—whether dealing with the war god’s church, the scheming nobles, or the bewildering new relationship between the empire and Cecilia.

After a few seconds of silence, the young wolf general shook her head and began to carefully compose her letter. It took her a long time, but finally she finished:

“Letter received. All is well at the border. I will keep your advice in mind. I’m very interested in what you mentioned, but I won’t be coming home this holiday—next time for sure.

“Andersa Wendell.”

Night had fallen, and lights glowed inside and outside the fortress. Andersa let out a long breath, wiping away imaginary sweat from her brow. She felt more exhausted than after a full day on the battlefield.

Her father had one advantage over her—his skill with paperwork…

…

“Oh, Mr. Bard—that’s today’s handover sheet,” a young technician said, rising from a desk lined with arcane network terminals. He handed a form filled with tables and signatures to the middle-aged man who had just entered, glancing him over with some surprise. “Coming in this early?”

Bard Wendell, dressed in the standard technician uniform, smiled faintly as he took the document and nodded. “Nothing to do in the dorm, so I thought I’d check the data.”

He looked around the “monitoring room”—a large space neatly arranged with several high-powered arcane network terminals. Two expensive immersion pods stood in a corner. Several technicians monitored data nearby, and a low hum filled the air.

“You should pick up a hobby—like playing cards or soccer with the others sometimes,” the young technician muttered. “Isn’t it boring to stay cooped up in your dorm writing and calculating all day?”

“I enjoy writing and calculating—it’s more interesting to me than cards,” Bard replied casually, then asked, “Any breakthroughs today?”

“Of course not—where’s the luck in that?” the young man shrugged. “Those signals are elusive, appearing and disappearing on a whim. We can only listen passively here. Who knows when the next one will come.”

He glanced at Bard with curiosity. “By the way… I really didn’t expect you to get so familiar with the ‘Listening Group’ so quickly. I thought you were just here temporarily, helping out for a few days before heading back to the Druid Research Institute.”

Bard looked up from the handover sheet and slowly sat at his station, then shook his head with a smile. “I’m confident in my learning ability, and this monitoring work isn’t difficult for me. As for the Druid Institute… I’ve already submitted my transfer application. My file will be officially moved next month.”

“Why?!” The young technician’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’re a three-oak scholar there. The pay should be much better than here!”

“…I don’t want to deal with those people anymore, for some… personal reasons,” Bard said hesitantly. “Of course, I know druidic technology is useful. That’s why I joined the institute when they were short-staffed. But now, with technicians from the capital arriving and Ms. Beltira leading a new research team, they don’t need an ordinary druid like me anymore.”

There was a hint of self-mockery in his tone.

“Alright, if you’ve made up your mind,” the young technician said with a resigned look.

He didn’t really know much about this somewhat aloof, mysterious colleague. As a recently transferred “listener,” he had arrived to find Bard already a senior member of the technical department in the Solin region. He’d only heard bits and pieces from others—that Bard had a complicated past, and was even once a Typhon citizen—but those were just idle rumors.

The young technician wasn’t one to pry into others’ pasts, and besides, his shift was over.

With his colleagues gone, the others in the room busied themselves with their own tasks. Bard finally exhaled softly and settled into his own workstation, his attention drawn to the holographic projection cast by the Arcane Network terminal.

A steady background hum formed a gentle, shimmering “curtain” over the hologram—completely blank.

Bard picked up a small earpiece from the nearby table and pressed it to his ear.

Embedded within the earpiece, a resonance crystal received the monitoring signals relayed from the Thorin Hub. The sound was soothing, with barely any fluctuations. It echoed quietly, sinking slowly into Bard Wendell’s heart.

It evoked the gentle breeze of the Greenleaf Valley, the chorus of insects rising and falling on summer nights at Longbranch Manor.

Perhaps today’s surveillance would yield no new leads, but for Bard, this tranquility was reward enough.

…

“Touring Talrond? Don’t worry, Speaker Andar has already entrusted me with that!” Melita said with a smile, clearly pleased—probably because extra work meant overtime pay. “I’ll show you all the iconic spots, from the hottest new arena to the ancient Poet’s Plaza. If you’re interested, we can even visit the Lower District… The Speaker gave me broad authority, so aside from the Upper Sanctum and a few key administrative offices, you’re free to go wherever you want.”

She suddenly seemed to remember something and quickly added, “Oh, and Noretta will be joining us too. After me, she’s the dragon you’ve interacted with the most. You remember her, right? Noretta, the white dragon?”

“Of course,” Gawain nodded as he followed Melita out of the Council headquarters. Bright lights illuminated the plaza outside, lighting the wide road ahead. A string of lights stretched down from the mountaintop all the way to the city on the plains. The city’s countless twinkling lights gave Gawain a fleeting sense of déjà vu, as if he’d somehow traveled through time again. He blinked, then shifted his gaze back to Melita. “But where exactly are we headed now?”

“Before the official tour, we need to settle our honored guests,” Melita said with a smile, looking at Gawain, Veronica, and the slightly drowsy Amber. “Unfortunately, Talrond doesn’t have a dedicated guest palace like the Autumn Court for foreign envoys. But if you don’t mind, you’re welcome to stay at my place for the next few days—it’s a private residence, but it’s quite spacious.”

“Not at all,” Gawain replied immediately. “Then we’ll be imposing on you for the next few days.”

(End of chapter)