Chapter 1073 — Convergence

In the eastern part of the city, the industrial district, a construction site was bustling with urgent work. Great magitech machines roared, seizing the warming weather to make up the progress lost to winter—for though the festive air was thick, for a Cecil developing at breakneck speed many projects in Xuanyao City would not halt entirely for the holidays.

Short and stocky, with a yellow beard and unkempt hair, clad in light black armor, Balamo Blacksteel stood on an open patch beside the road, staring wide-eyed as the great mechanical grabs lifted heavy steel and earth as easily as if they were tufts of cotton, setting them precisely in place. The dwarf envoy from Forge City had gone red in the face with excitement, and he pounded his thick arm against his companion's shoulder. "Hey! Paladin!! That thing looks stronger than our rune stone giants! No wonder you're so set on figuring out the Cecil people's magitech and bringing it into Forge City—I'm convinced. When we get back I'll petition King Morton alongside you!"

"You were convinced by the facts, not by me," said Paladin Brightcrag, equally short and stocky, with a gray beard and hair, his voice gruff as thunder in the mountains. He watched the heavy machines at work, excitement kindling in his eyes as well. "I saw their mechanical ships at Whitefeather Port. Even then I knew these immensely powerful things would change the world sooner or later—look at that steel, look at that stone, look at those machine beasts. In our Ironstone Hills and Forge Mountain there's no end of places where those beasts could be put to work... The only pity is that none of it comes cheap."

"Aye, none of it comes cheap. This world holds many fine things, but all of them carry a price tag—the Cecil people's machines and potions, the ores and crystals of the continent's east, the elves' medicinal ingredients and rare timbers. The folk who never stir from their homes in Forge City can't imagine what such things cost," said Balamo Blacksteel, then fell silent. After a brief moment of thought his expression turned serious. "But if His Majesty Gao Yang Cecil's promises hold, once we join the alliance the cost of trade between nations will fall sharply, and many goods once restricted from export will have their channels opened. Add to that the reopening and clearing of the north and south circumcontinental routes, and the transport costs of bulk goods will drop very low as well."

"If all those promises are kept," Paladin Brightcrag muttered. "Clearing the north and south circumcontinental routes... The old circumcontinental route lasted only a short time, but its glory still lives in the history books. That was an inspiring age... To bring the circumcontinental route back into the world would indeed be a feat, but I'm not optimistic about it."

"Is that so?" Balamo Blacksteel said offhandedly. "It would benefit everyone."

"Yes, it would benefit everyone—because at present none of us have ships fit for ocean voyages. But for the two human empires it's another matter. Linking up the circumcontinental route means that not only Cecil but the Typhon Empire too must open its ports and sea lanes and complete the connection with Cecil's route network. I don't doubt for a moment that those mechanical ships can run a full circuit of the continent—but only if the Typhonians can truly accept Cecil's terms. After all, from what we know, Typhon's national strength has taken a heavy blow; it can't even build a few new ships now. If it opens its sea lanes at this juncture, dominance over the entire circumcontinental route will without question fall wholly into Cecil's hands... And when the Typhonians recover their breath and want to contest their share of the seas again, it won't be so easy."

"The greatest regret isn't failing to obtain a treasure—it's having the means to return home fully laden, yet being unable to act in time and letting it slip through your fingers... The wisdom of the mountains holds true at sea as well," Balamo shook his head, then looked at his companion with some surprise. "I didn't expect you to have thought this far into such matters—Typhon and Cecil are separated from Forge City by ten thousand rivers and a thousand mountains."

"But now the whole world is about to be linked together. You came by magitech train—you know those ten thousand rivers and thousand mountains will shrink in time," Paladin Brightcrag spread his hands. "Few in Forge City ever look beyond the mountains, but someone among us must keep abreast of the world's changes. Fortunately I have a good deal of leisure, enough at least to think about the future more than those fellows who do nothing but wrestle with stone all day."

"The future... the future is not a thing easily grasped," said Balamo, and he blew at the beard at the corner of his mouth, sending those proud hairs flying. "I feel my brain has done enough work for today. To keep a clear head tomorrow, I think the two of us had best go have a drink."

Paladin's eyes lit up at once. "Just what I was thinking—and I have a suggestion. Don't waste time at some tavern; truly good liquor isn't kept behind those flashy counters. I know a place in the city that sells frost resistance potions. That stuff has a real kick..."

Balamo gave him a dubious look. "Frost resistance potion? Are you sure? That sounds like some kind of alchemical brew..."

"Trust my judgment. I tried it at Whitefeather Port. Human alchemists are more brilliant than you can imagine," Paladin's eyes shone, his voice like a great bell, his pride that of a man who had invented the frost resistance potion himself. "Fifty-two proof, sauce-aroma style—they say even the dragons of the north can't resist the fine flavor in those little bottles!"

Looking at his companion's nostalgic expression, Balamo did not doubt for a moment his judgment in matters of fine liquor. Having dismissed his misgivings, he could only marvel: truly worthy of Cecil, the new star among human cities—even a bottle of potion here is out of the ordinary...

...

As envoys from the north and west gathered one after another in the hub city of Xuanyao City, far to the northeast of the Gondor Wasteland, near the elven stronghold, giant eagles from the Silver Empire were also winging across the clear, high blue sky.

The air of the northern regions was far colder than in the south. Though the high-altitude currents were blocked by a breeze shield, a thread of chill still seemed to seep through. Persetia Morningstar narrowed her eyes slightly, sharing the vision of the giant eagle; the distant elven outpost had already come into her sight.

Those gleaming antenna arrays, together with the streamlined roofs and towers, all pointed toward the blue sky, looking slender yet possessed of a distinctive beauty of power.

A vast flock of dozens of giant eagles flew in formation around her, before and behind, to left and right, a spectacle to behold.

From the magic brooch came the voice of the navigator sprite: "Your Majesty, we are approaching Outpost 112. We will land in fifteen minutes."

"Understood," Persephone answered simply, her gaze sweeping across the outpost in the distance and to either side.

Cecil lay to the west, Typhon to the east.

"More than seven hundred years now..." the ruler of the Silver Empire murmured softly to herself. "Without my noticing, mankind has been divided for seven hundred years... I had thought I would never see them come together again."