Chapter 1012 — The Forward Gear

In the vast circular assembly hall, the flame at the heart of the ritual had long since gone out; only a few faint sparks still glimmered in the great brazier. Around it, the company of priests who had taken part in the ritual had all been reduced to a state like dried corpses, their bodies covered in a layer of iron-gray, trails of dried blood stretching from beneath their feet all the way to the brazier at the center of the hall. Seen from above, everything here resembled some scene of dark blood sacrifice.

Dark blood sacrifice... that was something any proper church loathed with all its heart, something that appeared only among twisted, degenerate cults. Palin Winterfort had never imagined he would see such a scene upon the ritual ground of the God of War.

"Under normal circumstances, a 'miracle' requires only that the faithful offer sufficient devotion; a true god will never exact a 'price' beyond that limit," the magical lord said in a low voice to a mage advisor beside him. "But clearly, the God of War has extracted an extraordinary toll in this 'miracle.' Every priest who took part in the ritual has been drained dry."

"Out of control..." the mage advisor said, his expression grave. "It seems that prayer directed at the God of War has become more dangerous than before... the present equilibrium is nearly at its limit."

Palin Winterfort came before the altar. He glanced at a mass of remains crouched beside the brazier, no longer recognizable as human, and murmured softly, as though to himself: "War does not appease the god. He has not improved in the slightest... This bears out His Majesty's judgment."

The mage advisor was silent for a moment, then asked quietly, "My lord, what do you make of the final message Count Cremont sent before he fell?"

"You mean about the 'dragons'?" Palin Winterfort raised an eyebrow, then spoke slowly, deep in thought. "Dragons... I do have some intelligence on that. There have long been scattered, indirect reports that Gaoyang Cecil himself has some connection to dragonkind, but there is no evidence that the Cecil Empire has established diplomacy with any true dragon clan. So if my estimate is correct, the dragons Count Cremont mentioned... are probably not true dragons, but dragonkin."

"Dragonkin?" The mage advisor unconsciously repeated the word. "You mean... the Holy Dragon Duchy?"

"Cecil succeeded in opening the gates of the Holy Dragon Duchy; last year they established diplomatic relations with that mysterious realm," Palin Winterfort said with a slight nod. "Intelligence on that country remains sparse, but one thing is certain: the Holy Dragon Duchy has always styled itself as 'dragonkin,' and they seem to possess a measure of dragon power—though certain books record that they are in fact incomplete dragons, unable to fly and fight as true dragons do... Whatever the truth behind it, it now seems certain that the Cecilians have obtained the aid of those 'dragonkin.'"

The mage advisor lowered his head and said with regret, "...So, without our realizing it, the gap between us and our enemy has widened by another great step."

"Indeed. We too once attempted to establish contact with the Holy Dragon Duchy, but after several rebuffs we chose to give up... That may prove to be an enormous loss," Palin Winterfort shook his head. "There may be more hidden behind this that we lack the means to investigate. Let us report everything that happened here faithfully to Aldernan."

As he spoke, he raised his head and gazed through the round opening at the center of the assembly hall's dome at the still-overcast sky—the power of the god had receded, and those dark clouds were now merely ordinary clouds.

"Whatever the future holds, what happened here today... is destined for the annals of history."

……

Luo Yan Augustus listened quietly to the battle reports coming from the front, his face betraying neither grief nor joy. Pei Yi Wendel stood at his side, likewise silent as a statue.

This intelligence had come directly from Winter Fort, and though it had crossed a vast distance, there was almost no delay in time—under the direct impetus of the Royal Mage Association and the Imperial Cabinet, the communication systems of the Empire's key domains had undergone cost-be-damned upgrades and replacements over the past period. New-style transmission arrays had replaced the old transmission spells, and the staffing and procedures throughout the network of transmission towers had been greatly streamlined. Now, vital intelligence from the border regions reached the imperial capital without passing through the cumbersome relays, transcriptions, and deliveries of old—it could be delivered straight to Luo Yan Augustus's office.

Before the blizzard on the border had ended, Aldernan had already learned the outcome of this aerial battle.

After ending the communication, Luo Yan was silent for a moment, then looked at the man beside him: "Pei Yi, what do you make of it?"

"In terms of short-term gains, we have finally destroyed Cecil's offensive strength in the Shadow Marsh; for some time to come they will be unable to use their armored trains to launch another 'steel advance'—though the Cecilians still have two armored trains, they cannot send them both to the front. Beyond that, we have also succeeded in wiping out a large portion of their air power and have sounded out part of our opponent's true strength; this is the first time since the war began that we have won such a positive result in the air. Of course, the price we paid was extremely high—one might even call it grievous," Pei Yi shook his head. "Those gains were bought at the cost of the annihilation of the First, Second, and Fourth National Griffin Knight Orders; Count Clement fell in battle, and the two battle mage corps under his command were all but wiped out as well."

"Of the one hundred and seventy-two regular knight orders, we have lost nearly a third by now... and of the ninety-six battle mage corps, a tenth are gone as well," Luo Yan sighed softly. "To purge the 'contamination' within the knight orders, the price can hardly be called low..."

Luo Yan's words made Pei Yi's expression grow even more grave; the old duke knew that these were far more than mere numbers.

That was the threshold Typhon's upper class could bear, and also the critical point at which the Augustus imperial house relied on imperial authority to maintain order within the realm—though the imperial house and a portion of the truly powerful nobles knew part of the truth behind this war, knew that this war was in essence a purge of "contamination," that did not mean it could be dealt with by simple addition and subtraction.

Men died at the front every day; the imperial house kept feeding troops and nobles into the "Winter Fort meat grinder," and the pressure all this generated would accumulate without cease, while the empire's capacity to bear it had its limits.

Even if the emperor himself possessed heaven-spanning skill and the imperial authority inspired awe, that awe and trust could not be consumed without limit.

"It is about time," Luo Yan said suddenly, in a low voice.

Pei Yi looked at him: "Your Majesty?"

"Make preparations, Pei Yi," Luo Yan rose from behind the desk and spoke as casually as if he were ordering that day's supper. "It is about time we went to the front."

Pei Yi was stunned for a moment, then his eyes went wide: "How can you..."

"It is a necessary step," Luo Yan said mildly. "Simply go and make ready."

Pei Yi stared into Luo Yan's eyes; only after a full several seconds did he seem at last to confirm something, and he let out a long breath: "I understand, Your Majesty."