Chapter 1045 — The High Mountains of Aurgel

Wenna Whitewort could not help sighing, while Wycliffe clutched his forehead and muttered: "Every proposal Stella makes really is damnably attractive... casting a vote against them is nothing short of an ordeal..."

"I feel much the same," Wenna glanced at Wycliffe, then turned her eyes back to Stella. "In any case, let us first think of a way to resolve this interference. To launch the project on Mount Mingcen we have already invested a great deal in advance, and this matter will certainly be pushed forward. In theory, Mount Mingcen has the finest natural conditions in the nation: its altitude is high enough, its atmosphere clear, its magical environment stable—by any measure, such interference should not appear... This phenomenon deserves thorough study."

"Of course, of course, we will study it," Stella said swiftly. "We will study it well—though we may also find nothing at all. Within this week I will arrange for the scholars to collect interference data from the mountainside and from several other peaks; if we still have no clue, I fear we shall have to appeal to Emperor Cecil's technical experts for aid."

This time, the fairy lady's proposal finally won everyone's support...

...

The meeting ended, and the tribal leaders began to take their leave, one by one.

A gigantic golem strode into the hall on heavy feet; with deft arms it lifted the small stool from the round table, and Stella, after a few nimble hops, seated herself beside the golem's neck. She waved to the others, and soon had steered the golem out of the hall, while Camilla, watching that ponderous stone back recede, could not help shaking her head: "We really ought to forbid her bringing golems into the council chamber... the floor here has to be repaired every single year."

Having said this, the orc leader bade Wenna farewell and departed, shaking her head; next to leave was Sthul, leader of the spiritfolk—and after most of the attendants had withdrawn as well, only two remained in the vast council chamber: Wenna Whitewort, and the human leader Wycliffe.

Wenna worked the stiffness from her shoulders and neck, grown stiff from long sitting, then turned and steadied herself on the little ladder standing beside her high stool and climbed down to the floor. She tilted her head up to look at the tall Wycliffe and asked curiously: "You're not leaving?"

Wycliffe, silver-haired, wearing the hint of a smile, walked unhurriedly to the nearby balcony and gazed out toward the city and the mountains: "A moment of leisure like this is rare; I mean to stretch my time away from documents as long as I possibly can."

Wenna pursed her lips and stepped over to the balcony as well. Following Wycliffe's gaze into the distance, she saw ancient Helmhold bathed in the twilight sky, and far off Mount Mingcen reflecting the orange-red light. This sight was hardly unfamiliar to her—in all the years she had served as leader of the grey elves, she had often come to the council hall of Helmhold, and had seen this same view many times.

"Truly a magnificent city," she could not help saying softly. "A new age has come... I wonder whether the scenery here will change with it, as it has in Windsong or Whitefeather Harbor."

"Nothing remains unchanging," Wycliffe said with a smile. "Many regard Helmhold as a symbol of antiquity and tradition, but trace its history, and was it not itself a product of upheaval?"

Wenna Whitewort blinked, then suddenly burst out laughing: "I suppose you're right."

As one of the rulers of this land, she was of course quite clear on the origins of Helmhold:

This great city stood at the foot of Mount Mingcen, governed jointly by the Council of Five Kings; in style it possessed a character unique across the entire continent—its buildings had the rigid, straight lines and grand, imposing appearance of the ancient Gondor style, while also carrying the weight and practicality of the far western dwarf kingdoms. Though by history this land ought to have been the homeland of four races—grey elves, orcs, spiritfolk, and fairies—the city itself blended the styles of the ancient Gondor Empire and the dwarf kingdoms; and this peculiarity was naturally bound up with the history of Helmhold—

Helmhold was first built more than seven hundred years ago, when the ancient Gondor Empire collapsed and its remnant peoples scattered in flight. Among them, the pioneers who turned westward crossed the rift valleys and mountains of the old imperial frontier and stepped onto the ancient, mysterious soil of Aurgel. At that time the major races of this land had not yet formed the later "Tribal Nation," but existed loosely in the form of tribal leagues; the humans who had suddenly migrated here from a human empire were a profoundly jarring event for the natives of this land, and after a period of contact and mediation, the natives finally decided to take in these refugees from the Gondor Empire, while the latter chose to repay that kindness in their own way.

Beyond certain knowledge from the Gondor Empire (so much of it as remained usable after the Tide of Magic) and treasures, the greatest repayment the westward pioneers made to the natives was this city: Helmhold.

They poured out the wealth they had carried on their journey of exile, applied the architectural and planning knowledge of the Gondor Empire—far more advanced than that of the locals—and, invoking an ancient covenant from the Gondor era, invited dwarf craftsmen from the western continent; over ten years they raised the city at the foot of Mount Mingcen, and afterward took for themselves only one fifth of it, giving the remaining four fifths to the other four races.

At the same time, the new knowledge and new ideas brought by the Gondorians were also an important reason why the various tribes across the land of Aogulei altered their traditional arrangements and established the more closely connected "tribal states."

Hence Wycliffe's remark: Helm's Deep itself was a product of change.

Wenna Baizhi suddenly sighed, and could not help but feel a stir of emotion:

More than seven hundred years ago, when no humans yet moved across this land, Mount Mingcen had already stood as the "holy land" of the four races; for hundreds upon hundreds of years this land had kept its own traditions and customs, until the Gondorian Empire was destroyed by a tide of demons, and the empire's remnant people crossed the vast wasteland to arrive here — and only then did the young, inventive human race bring earth-shaking change to this place.

Leaving aside whatever the forebears of that time thought of the changes they faced, as one of the later generations Wenna had to admit, judging purely from the vantage of history, that it was precisely these changes which shaped the nation of today — a nation far stronger and far more united than the one before.

And now, change had once again come knocking at the gates of the Aogulei mountains — and this time, too, the change was brought by humans.

The creativity of the human race... was truly beyond belief.

(End of this chapter)