Chapter 1134 — Those Bound for Talrond

"Heartless indeed—and this practice of concentrating all resources on a chosen few elites while abandoning the vast majority of 'ordinary children' runs directly counter to His Majesty's principles of 'education for all' and 'talent reserves,'" Victoria said, her face expressionless. "But you have to admit, there are times when such an effective screening method still has its uses."

Byron shrugged, quickly losing interest in the topic. His attention returned to the voyage about to begin, and after a moment's thought he said, "His Majesty places great importance on this voyage. It is not merely a demonstration of the Alliance's strength and the 'New Order,' but also a test of all the efforts we've made at North Port to date. Frankly, I'm not worried about the voyage itself—it's North Port that makes me uneasy. This is different from that mission we ran off the coast of Typhon. Once we're far from land, all communication between the fleet and the mainland will be cut off."

"You can trust me," the Duchess said gravely. "On this soil, no snowflake has ever fallen beyond the Vild family's control."

Byron was silent a moment, then gave a slight nod. "...Then I'm reassured."

Then he looked out at the sea once more, and across the weather-beaten face of this "mercenary knight," an expression in which solemnity and anticipation mingled gradually took shape.

He knew the challenge he was about to undertake was likely the most perilous of his half a lifetime—far beyond what he had faced when he led his companions to explore ancient ruins and monster lairs. In the old days, his voyage would have been regarded as little short of suicide. But with the naga engineers and Siren navigators now aboard, and the oceangoing techniques they had brought with them, such a voyage had become possible. More importantly, a flight of dragons would escort them on their way; a journey once deemed suicidal might now become a feat worthy of the history books.

If only those old companions from his adventuring days were still here... Would they raise a glass to him for this epic adventure?

Lost in such thoughts, Byron found himself looking forward to distant Talrond all the more.

……

Near the heart of North Port, in the ground-floor hall of the "Extreme North Exploration and Development Corps Registration Office"—which the merchants and travelers who passed through had jokingly dubbed the "Adventurers' Guild"—the once-bustling service windows were gradually falling quiet as evening drew near.

A sudden jingle of a bell rang out, and the girl dozing behind the registration window snapped awake, looking toward the door with an expression of surprise.

An old man stood there, clad in a short black mage's robe, a soft black cap on his head, his hair and beard all white. After glancing about the hall, he strode toward her.

Short black mage's robes had fallen rather out of fashion these days—even the lofty mage lords of old had taken up the notion of following trends. The "modern formal wear" of the day, with its runic linings and mana-conducting thread, was rapidly supplanting the gloomy, cumbersome mage's robes of former times, offering the same spellcasting assistance in a sleek, modern cut. Yet to the registration clerks who dealt with adventurers so often of late, such old-fashioned garb was in fact far from rare; its practicality and durability had stood the test of time, and adventurers preferred to stick with equipment they were used to rather than rashly entrust their lives to "fashionable gadgets."

But adventurers of such an advanced age were not so common.

A flicker of doubt rose in her heart, but the girl behind the window perked up at once and, as the old mage drew near, fixed him with a practiced smile. "Hello. How may I help you?"

"I'd like to register as an adventurer bound for Talrond," the old mage said. His manner was easygoing, without the air of ingrained arrogance that old-school mages of similar years carried like sediment accumulated over a lifetime. "It's the Extreme North Exploration and Development Corps, isn't it?"

"You wish to register as—" The girl faltered, and the eyes beneath her short red hair swept over the old mage twice despite herself. "Are you certain you wish to register as an adventurer? If you'd like to join the expedition tour as a scholar, you could go next door..."

"An adventurer, yes. I'm not so old that I've lost my wits," the old mage said with a wave of his hand. Then he glanced with some suspicion at the "Notes for Adventurers" posted beside the window. "What? Is there a problem? Surely you don't have an upper age limit for registration? I read the promotional material very carefully on my way here—there shouldn't be any such restriction..."

"Well... we do not, in fact, impose an upper age limit." The girl was a little taken aback and answered almost automatically, while privately reflecting that this no-age-limit rule really did seem like a loophole—though then again, would any adventurer in his seventies or eighties really come out to take on assignments under normal circumstances?!

"No limit, then there's nothing more to discuss," said the old mage, who had no notion of the young woman's silent misgivings. A pleased expression came over his face, and he reached a hand toward the window. "Give me a registration form, young lady."

"This... very well," the girl said with a dazed nod. She reached out and took a blank form from the side, and as though by professional habit began to explain, "Please write your age, place of birth, occupation, and length of time spent adventuring here, along with whether you belong to a party. Sign your family name and given name here, and lastly, trace this rune here to leave your mark..."

"All right, all right, I know. This is really no different from the adventurer's guilds of old."

The old mage waved an impatient hand before the girl could finish, snatched up the form, gave it a quick glance, and then took the pen by the window to fill it in. But he soon knitted his brows, the nib scratching across the paper while he muttered, "Age... I can't even remember that anymore. Place of birth, not that either. Occupation, no problem there. Time spent adventuring? Can I just put down a few centuries..."

Behind the window, the girl listened to the old mage's muttering and could not keep the corner of her mouth from twitching. She was beginning to suspect that this old man was not an adventurer come to register at all, but rather a senile old fellow who had wandered away from home — and to think she had been receiving him so earnestly. Perhaps calling security would be the better move about now?

"If you can't remember any of it, then just leave those blank," the girl said, following the old man's lead even as she mulled over calling security. She did so to spare his feelings and keep the poor old fellow from getting worked up. "But surely you know how to fill in your name at least?"

The girl's reasoning was simple enough: if there was an accurate name, perhaps that would help this old man find his family.

Hearing the registrar's words, the old mage frowned slightly and thought it over quite seriously, muttering to himself as he wrote, "The family name really does escape me, though I'm certain I ought to have one. The given name... hmm, Mojin. There, signed. Is this all right?"