Chapter 908 — New Winds in the Mosswood

A voice, low yet rather gentle, came from the side: "The magic-energy obelisk the Cecil folk brought—they say once that thing's up, most of Windsong will have bright magic-crystal streetlamps, and we won't have to worry about the old streets in the west of the city catching fire again from a knocked-over lamp stand."

The messenger looked toward the voice and saw a female beastfolk warrior speaking to him. She had feline eyes, ears, fur, even a tail, yet her face and figure bore obvious feminine traits—an incongruous, rough-hewn appearance that among beastfolk was itself a mark of beauty.

"Lady Morelina, I've brought letters from the east," the messenger said with a smile. "Cross-border letters."

The beastfolk woman probably smiled, her sharp teeth glinting. She raised a hand toward the chief's longhouse. "The ancestors watch over you, Mr. Todd—the chief is inside. She's likely been waiting a long time for these letters."

The messenger thanked her, passed the soldiers at the plaza's edge, went up the ramp between the longhouse and the square, and came to the longhouse door. Servants were already waiting there and led him inside.

Down a long corridor and into the lord's reception room on the second floor, he came before the gray elf chief, Wenna Baizhi. Sunlight poured through a neat row of narrow diamond-shaped windows in the wall, casting sharply defined patches of light and shadow over the furnishings—the wooden desk, cabinets, high-backed chairs, and shelves all looked a size smaller than the furniture humans commonly used. The child-small female gray elf sat in a high-backed chair still roomy for her, and smiled at the messenger. "Todd, I've been waiting for you a long while—I thought you'd have come back yesterday on that train carrying alchemical reagents."

"Sorry, I was held up a bit with customs formalities at Shilin City. The Cecil folk are adjusting their administrative office workflows, and the clerks over there aren't practiced yet—" The messenger lowered his head, then drew out a thick bundle from his person and held it before the gray elf chief. "These are the letters you've been waiting for."

"I'm not truly blaming you—compared with a few years ago, letters from the human world reach the Mosswood far faster now," Wenna said with a smile. She took the bundle, first weighing it slightly in her hand, and could not help a twitch of her brow. "Ah... that child still writes so much..."

The messenger could not suppress a smile. "The young lady is good at expressing her feelings in writing."

"You've just come from over there, so tell me—how is Merry getting on in Cecil?" Wenna blinked, not hurrying to open the thick stack of letters. "Has she adapted to life in the human world?"

"From what I saw, she's doing as well there as in Windsong," the messenger said with a nod. "Rather than saying she's adapted to life in the human world, I'd say the Cecil folk truly have managed to treat other races as equals—Xuanyao City is even friendlier than I imagined. People of many different races and nations visit that city, even Typhon folk, who in theory have tense relations with Cecil. All sorts of races gather there, just like the scene in the Windsong market. Everyone lives well there, and no one is made to suffer for their race or customs.

"Of course, the laws there treat everyone the same as well—even elves or even dragonkin, whom the Cecil folk regard as honored guests and allies, will be thrown into prison for breaking the law. In a way, that lets us rest even easier about the young lady's safety—she's always been a well-bred child who respects the law and the rules."

The messenger analyzed these matters so calmly and methodically that it was plain his position here was not simply that of a "messenger."

"Dragonkin?" Wenna raised an eyebrow. "We did receive word that the Cecil Empire and the Holy Dragon Duchy have established relations... but I never expected those reclusive dragonkin to come out of the mountains so quickly. I thought there wouldn't be real dragonkin visitors in the Cecil cities until at least next year."

"We once tried to knock on the door in the mountains of the Holy Dragon Duchy, but never succeeded, owing to the distance and the differences in custom. It seems the Cecil merchants are indeed a notch better than us at the art of 'knocking,'" Todd said. "From what I observed, the dragonkin aren't all closed and conservative—at least the ones living in Xuanyao City look no different from ordinary folk. And they get along quite happily with the Cecil folk. Let me think... they have a rather interesting way of greeting their closer Cecil friends..."

This "messenger" recalled for a moment, then raised a hand and gestured. "Oh, it's like this—raise your hand as if you were holding a cup, then shout: 'Friend! Frost-resistance potion! Glug glug glug!' and finally make the motion of draining it in one go..."

"That..." Wenna Baizhi stared blankly at the scene Todd was miming, and only after a long while shook her head in bewilderment. "The customs of the dragonkin really are beyond comprehension... fitting, I suppose, for a race that can survive in such a cold place."

Then she lifted her head. "But these details aren't important. The key is that now we too have a chance to do business with those dragonkin—perhaps I need to discuss this matter with Shvark. Go and tell him to come by this evening."

"Yes, Chief."

Once the courier Todd had left the room, Wenna Whitewort finally let her gaze fall upon that thick bundle of letters. After staring at them for a good long while, the gray elf chieftain at last reached out a hand, and heaved a long sigh. "Alas... she is my own flesh and blood, after all... Once the magic-net signal with the Cecil Empire is connected, things will be better..."

The first letter was drawn out and opened, and a delicate, elegant hand swam into Wenna's eyes:

"Mother, I have been living in Xuanyao City for some time now, and it truly is a most extraordinary city..."

...

"What an unbelievable life of adventure..."

Gao Yang set down the thick ancient volume in his hands and could not resist rubbing his eyes, murmuring softly to himself.

Over the past few days, he had spent nearly every spare moment studying this ancient book, and now he had finally finished reading the record of Mojin Vild's adventuring career within its pages.

He had gained much knowledge that had been lost to history, and upon the map hanging in his study there now appeared a great many marks, large and small, that were worth noting.

And after days of reading, what he most wanted to say was that single exclamation.

Mojin Vild... could truly be called the greatest adventurer in this world—and quite likely without peer.

The message to the Northland had long since been sent. Victoria Vild already knew that the treasure lost by her family had been recovered; besides expressing her delight and gratitude, she had also said that she would take the book back with her when she came to the imperial capital to report on her duties before winter set in. Until then, the book would remain in safekeeping on Gao Song's desk for a while longer.

This book would certainly have to be returned to the Vild family—Gao Yang had no intention of keeping it for himself. After all, the most important thing about a book is the knowledge it carries, and such knowledge can be copied; the precious original entrusts its owner's remembrance of the departed, and it ought rightly to be returned to its rightful owners.

But before Victoria came to the imperial capital, before the book was returned, Gao Yang felt it necessary to confirm certain details with someone regarding the contents mentioned in the book.

After easing the fatigue of prolonged reading behind his desk, Gao Yang raised his hand and glanced at the mithril ring on his finger.