Chapter 1014 — Influence

A newsboy came running past, and his excited shouts drew the captain's attention: "Extra! Extra! Big news! A great aerial battle has broken out on the Winterwolf front! Unprecedented! Aerial combat the likes of which has never been heard of!"

The newsboy's words were strange and new, and already some around him had been drawn in. The captain could not help but look that way a little longer—and it was precisely that longer look that caught the newsboy's notice. The young, vibrant grey elf ran over in a few strides, his face flushed red in the cold wind: "Lady Morelina! Take a paper! You cannot afford to miss it!"

"I am on patrol," Morelina looked down at the small grey elf, her fur-covered face set in a serious expression—she carefully controlled the curl of her tail, keeping its swaying from betraying her mood.

But a shrewd grey elf could plainly read a warrior's thoughts through any number of details: "Come now, Lady Morelina, a guard captain does not have to patrol as long as an ordinary soldier, and this is news of the Typhon-Cecil front—a soldier should not miss something like this!"

Morelina narrowed her eyes slightly. She did not agree with the first half of the newsboy's words, but the second half gave her ample reason... or rather, an excuse. She glanced at the mechanical clock hanging before the clan chief's great hall nearby, realized her patrol time was indeed nearly over, and reached out to the newsboy: "Very well then, give me one."

"Your whole day will be enriched by this paper! I guarantee it, Lady Morelina—here is your paper and your change~~"

A glib-tongued grey elf.

Morelina took the paper and shook her head with a smile. The next second the newsboy had run off in another direction, his cheerful cry drifting back from not far away: "Big news! A great aerial battle on the Winterwolf front! Big news that even the Windsong guard captain would not miss!"

Morelina glanced that way, a short rumble rising in her throat, but she said nothing. Then she lifted the paper and saw that the "big news" the boy had spoken of was right there on the front page—

A large "photograph" took up fully a third of the page, and at the first glance Morelina felt her breath slow by half a beat—

It was a view of the sky, captured directly from some vantage point aloft in flight.

Morelina had in fact seen views of the sky—the Cecil people had produced some arcane-net short films framed from an aerial perspective; they used some kind of flying machine to carry people and equipment up into the heavens and filmed the earth seen from above, the gaze across the clouds, even scenes of dancing with wind and rain. As the arcane net spread to the Augustinia Tribal Nations, these incredible short films had entered the sight of every race as part of Cecil's outreach, but...

What the newspaper showed was something else entirely.

In a sky thick with gloom, under howling wind and snow, armed armies were locked in slaughter.

Only then did Morelina understand what the newsboy had meant by "great aerial battle."

Hundreds of sorties of flying war machines thrown into battle... several times that number of Typhon aircraft... vast-scale meteorological "miracles"... a host of dragons... armored trains...

Air raids and counter-air raids amid the blizzard.

Clutching the paper, Morelina had at some point set the cleaving axe she had been carrying on her shoulder down beside her leg. Her feline tail curled up little by little, and by the time she caught herself, the tail was already in her mouth.

She could not remember how many years it had been since she had done anything so childish—utterly undignified for a powerful beastfolk warrior.

But at this moment she had no attention to spare for such trifles, because a huge question was circling in her mind:

When... when did war become like this?

In the distant human world, on the eastern side of the continent—were the people over there already fighting in this manner?

...

"A great air war..." Inside a spacious, brightly lit room, Wenna Baizhi—grey hair falling over her shoulders—gazed at the newspaper her attendant had just delivered. The front-page report left this leader of the grey elves wide-eyed, and she could not help but exclaim, "Is this, too, a change brought about by thaumaturgical technology..."

"Thaumaturgical technology and magical technology," said a tall, black-haired, blue-eyed human standing beside Wenna. "The Typhonians have no flying machines; they still fight with the power of traditional magic."

"Those Typhonians without flying machines have suffered the heavier losses in this air war—though Cecil propaganda may have embellished things, it is plain enough who has paid the greater price in blood," Wenna said, shaking her head slightly. "Not to mention the dragonkin appearing on the battlefield as mercenaries... Cecil has actually fitted those already formidable dragonkin with thaumaturgical equipment."

"Alchemists have a concept called a 'catalyst,' and war is the catalyst of technology. Thaumaturgical technology is of course splendid for mines and municipal construction, but plainly it suits the battlefield just as well," the tall human said with great seriousness.

"...The grey elves are not skilled at war, but we do need to learn more about such matters," Wenna said with a sigh. "Schwark, the agenda of purchasing arms from the Cecil people must still be pushed forward... Not only us; the other four great tribes should recognize the importance of these things as well. We need not expect to use those purchased arms to attack anyone, but at the very least we must begin to keep pace with the world's changes."

"Rest assured, I have been keeping a close eye on such matters."

"Mm," Wenna nodded slightly. "Speaking of thaumaturgical technology... what have the various parties said about Wycliffe's proposal to build the central hub of the magic net at Mount Mingcen?"

Wycliffe was the leader of the human tribe within the Augurey Tribal States, one of the "Five Kings" who stood as Wenna Baizhi's equal in status.

"Building the central hub of the magic net at Mount Mingcen is indeed a matter that greatly challenges tradition... At present the orcs and the spirit race have not reached a consensus on this; their chief worry is whether it will have an adverse effect on the sacred site, along with certain concerns about cultural tradition," Schwark, serving as adviser, reported at once. "Surprisingly, the fairies have already agreed to it. Lady Stella even sent a letter specifically asking whether we on our side are also inclined to promote the matter..."

"The fairies are that eager?" Wenna raised her head in some surprise. "Mount Mingcen is the land where they have dwelt for generations; I had thought they would be the most hesitant of all..."

"Everyone thought so, but the fairies seem... to find the whole thing rather interesting," Schwark said with a somewhat peculiar expression. "At least, that is Lady Stella's attitude."

Wenna was briefly stunned, then suddenly pressed her fingers to her brow in vexation. "Have they truly understood what a magic net hub is..."

"There should be no problem on that score. The fairies' grasp of thaumaturgical technology is unexpectedly strong; lately they have been becoming the ethnic group most familiar with thaumaturgical technology in the Augurey Tribal States, second only to the grey elves," Schwark said with a wholly earnest face, seemingly deaf to the jest in Wenna's tone. "Perhaps it is precisely because of this gift that they seem so interested in erecting a giant signal tower in their ancestral homeland."

"...Well, that is good news too—at least three votes are secured," Wenna said, rubbing her brow. "Only the spirit race and the orcs remain... I know Camilla and Stull; neither of them is stubborn by nature, and in the end they should agree as well."