Chapter 520 — Heading South

Beyond those lights, the whole of Boulder Fortress was wrapped in a faintly glowing shield, which draped every other detail of the fortress in a hazy veil, hard to make out.

"Is that the great shield of Boulder Fortress…?" Verodai's voice came from beside her. The "Saint Princess" had at some point come to stand by Duchess Wilde; gazing toward Boulder Fortress, wrapped as ever in a thin halo of holy light, she said, "I heard that on the fifty-eighth of Firemonth, the Cecilians used some immensely powerful magic to destroy that shield… I did not expect them to repair it so quickly."

"The great shield is a vital barrier of Boulder Fortress; the Cecilians would surely have restored it at the first opportunity. And with a magical barrier of that kind, so long as the charging and projection structures are not materially damaged, a shield that has merely been pierced is easy enough to repair."

"Is that so…" Verodai said softly. She raised her head and gazed southward, somewhat lost in thought. "…I do not understand much of matters magical…"

Hearing this plainly absent-minded reply, Duchess Wilde merely smiled faintly. Then, together with the "Saint Princess," she stood on the castle terrace in the nightfall of the season's first snow, quietly taking in the calm winter night.

The next day dawned clear.

In the castle's great hall, Count Pompey placed a roll of parchment, still giving off the fresh scent of ink, into Duchess Victoria's hands.

The parchment contained a rough tally of the Southern Marches' trade over the past year, and of the merchants' traffic since Boulder Fortress changed hands. Its contents were crude and vague; perhaps only three parts in ten were reliable, and the remaining seven were likely the guesswork of Count Pompey and a pack of advisers.

With material like this, even Victoria's keen intelligence could hardly estimate much of value.

Yet looking at Count Pompey's bloodshot eyes and the listless faces of the advisers present, the duchess knew this was already the best that could be had.

At least Count Pompey could produce even this much, rather than gaping like those true backcountry nobles and asking her, "What is a tally?"

"Go and rest, Count," Victoria's words put Count Pompey at ease. "We will bring back good news."

"Your wisdom is the greatest fortune of Ans," the plump count bent low and said with all sincerity. "May your journey go smoothly."

Victoria nodded and turned to leave, while Verodai deliberately lagged a few steps behind. The princess said beside Count Pompey, "Do not speak in that tone of a farewell on the battlefield. As a noble of the kingdom, summon some courage—that is our forebear, not some man-eating beast."

Count Pompey showed a rather awkward and ashamed smile and bowed his head. "Just as you say."

The Duchess of the North and the Princess favored by holy light had both departed; the plump Count Pompey remained where he was, yet he could not keep an undignified thought from springing up in his heart:

From childhood on, the one who beat him hardest had been his grandfather…

If his own grandfather was like that, then now a forebear of another house—dozens of generations removed and of no blood kin to him at all—had taken up blade and spear… would he not hold back and beat a man to death?

The envoy caravan from the royal capital had left Count Pompey's castle, and on this winter day, utterly unfit for travel, horses and carriages rolled out onto the snow-covered King Shao Road.

Seated in the ornate carriage, Victoria Vild raised her hand, and an ordered wind rose out of thin air, wrapping itself around either side of the caravan; the snow on the road was scattered away, and the winter cold was held at bay.

The knights guarding the caravan struck the shields hung beside their saddles with their longswords and praised their lady aloud, while soldiers clad in liveries of red and blue raised their horns at the head of the column; the military band struck up in turn, and to the stirring beat and melody, the envoys from Saint Sunil set their steps toward the direction of Bedrock Fortress.

In Xuanyao City, within the lord's manor, a half-body projection of the Bedrock commander and Second Legion commander, Knight Wald Perich, hovered above the magic-net communicator before Gao Yang. The venerable old knight stood ramrod straight: "Your Grace, the royal capital's envoys have drawn near Bedrock Fortress."

"Make ready and receive them properly," Gao Yi nodded slightly. "The caravan sent to welcome them has already set out."

Then he paused, and a smile surfaced on his face: "Don't be remiss with them—they are a very big piece of business."

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