Chapter 870 — Northport

That was a distance even a Transcendent's eyesight could hardly reach—one would need powerful magical implements or additional spell effects to see so far.

"The direction of the storm ring, is it..." Victoria noticed where Byron was looking and gave a slight nod. "On rather rare days, when the weather is clear enough and that storm layer happens to have expanded, it can be observed with the naked eye. But not during this season, I think—the storm ring in the northern outer sea contracts in summer, and its outermost cloud wall lies farther from land than usual, so under normal circumstances it can't be seen with the unaided eye. Winterhold does have a large mage's-eye apparatus, however; it can see the far side of the Seaward Peninsula in any season, and I occasionally use it to observe that storm."

Byron glanced at Victoria with curiosity. "And have you discovered anything noteworthy?"

"Beyond confirming that it truly never disperses, and confirming its cycle of change, nothing at all," Victoria said with a shake of her head. "That stretch of ocean is not calm. It has already become a region humans cannot set foot in—even Legendary powerhouses have perished in the sea beyond the storm ring. No one knows how that storm layer formed, let alone what its internal structure is."

"His Majesty seems to think it's one of the defensive systems of the dragon nation of 'Tarond,' that beyond the storm lies dragon territory," Byron said offhandedly. "If you ask me, he could just have a talk with that dragon lady who comes visiting so often... Merri-something, I think... have a word with that dragon lady. Who knows, he might pick up something."

Victoria spoke with a blank expression. "...There are many legends about the dragon race in the northern regions, most of them from the Holy Dragon Duchy. In our view, dragons are not the sort of folk who are easy to deal with."

Byron gave a noncommittal "heh," then, gazing out at the sea, said slowly and thoughtfully, "Not easy to deal with... but at this rate, once we step off this land and send ships out to the far seas, sooner or later we'll have to deal with every race there is..."

Victoria glanced at Byron and opened her mouth as if to say something, but before she could speak, a faint commotion came from the southern part of the camp and cut her off.

Following the sound with her eyes, she saw that a sizable crowd had gathered at some point near the checkpoint in the camp's south. The people beyond the cordon were all dressed in civilian clothes, and the soldiers at the checkpoint had already moved in to keep order. Shouts and clamor drifted over from that direction from time to time, mingled with a thick northern dialect.

Victoria's brow furrowed at once. She had a vague guess as to what was happening over there, and the ice and snow around her instantly condensed, swirling and dancing through the air like bitter ice blades. Her tone turned as cold as deepest winter. "I am here, and there are still people who would dare..."

Before the Duchess could finish, Byron suddenly raised a hand to cut her off. The Imperial general, a mercenary by origin, took one look in that direction and knew what was going on; a strange smile crossed his face. "Don't get too worked up, Grand Consul. Those are just common folk, and some familiar faces at that—you've missed a few things lately, but I know what's going on. It's not what you think. This is a small matter."

So saying, Byron jumped down to the ground and strode off toward the checkpoint, saying to Victoria as she followed, "Don't show yourself for now—they might get too nervous. Just watch me handle it."

Victoria nodded, thoroughly bewildered, and casually released a bending-light field to conceal her form. She and Byron arrived together at the checkpoint in the camp's south, where the nearly hundred civilians gathered had already formed a neat two-line standoff with the checkpoint soldiers.

"The general's here..." "The general's here..."

Someone in the crowd caught sight of Byron's figure, and low murmurs of warning rose one after another. The soldiers opened a passage, and the gathered civilians stepped back two paces in neat unison.

Victoria, her form hidden by the bending-light field, fixed her eyes first on those civilians—they wore coarse, old cloth, but their clothes were clean enough and warm. From their faces and bearing, these were mountain folk who lived nearby and worked the land year-round. What drew the most notice was that among them were not only sturdy men but women and children as well—whole families had come.

And while Victoria was wondering inwardly which family had stirred up these gathered commoners, Byron had already crossed the distance in a few strides and stood before the crowd.

The people in coarse hemp and cotton looked with some awe at the tall, imposing Imperial general before them, fully armed—yet to her surprise, they did not retreat any further.

Byron glanced at them and said casually, "You've all gathered here—what is it you want?"

His tone was flat and natural, as though he were long accustomed to this.

A few men stepped forward from the crowd. First they turned instinctively to look back, then plucked up the courage to come before Byron. "General, we have something to say..."

Byron's eyebrow lifted. "Same as before?"

"Yes," the men said, nodding one after another. Then they drew a breath and raised their voices in a hoarse, cracked bellow. "Southerners, keep your hands off our land! You're digging up our ore veins and our water sources!!"

The commoners gathered behind them took up the cry as well. The scattered shouting lasted a few seconds, then all of it died away.

The man at the head of the group looked at Byron with a flicker of hope. Byron, however, pursed his lips and waved a hand carelessly. "You all heard that, didn't you? Take these people into custody. The men go to the western district to dig drainage ditches, the women to sorting potatoes and dried meat, and the children to the kitchens to help out, followed by an hour of literacy class... And who brought this one? He doesn't even look five!"

A tall, gaunt man squeezed out of the crowd, wearing an awkward smile. "I did—he's my son... He's sharp as a whip! And he's actually almost seven, he just looks skinny..."

"I'm not blind. If he's even five and a half, I'll be your son!" Byron glared at the gaunt man, then waved him off irritably. "Get in, get in. Keep an eye on the child, and don't bring him tomorrow."

The crowd of commoners before the checkpoint immediately brightened and surged cheerfully forward, cooperating fully as the soldiers searched and patted them down, then followed several soldiers deeper into the camp. The man who had spoken for them earlier paused as he passed Byron and smiled ingratiatingly. "General, we're still getting paid by the day, right?"

"What else would it be?" Byron shot him a glare. "Soldiers of the Empire never cheat the common folk. Day's pay means day's pay!"

"Good, good, that's a relief..."

The man nodded happily again and again, then hurried to catch up with the group that had already walked some distance ahead and disappeared into the camp.

Victoria stood nearby, watching with her mouth agape.