Chapter 397 — Unfriendly Guests
Blade of Dawn · Page 1 of 4
The thunder of the great cannons from the south bank of the Whitewater River could be faintly heard even at the dockside square.
The people of Cecil knew that those were the booming reports of the battle corps' unique magic-conduction weapons; behind every roar lay an explosion capable of rending heaven and earth, and even a great mage's Flame Burst could not compare with the power of those great cannons. The Cecil folk, who had once witnessed the explosive might of Rebecca's crystal and read the analyses of this war in the newspapers, believed that before those formidable cannons Count Horsman and the rabble he had scraped together stood no chance at all—no more chance than the aberrations that had twice attacked the domain and been twice beaten back.
People of this age had not yet been baptized in an information explosion, nor had they formed the habit of questioning their liege. The effects of a time when information was scarce and labor was crushing still lingered upon them; now that they finally had a channel to the outside world and the ability to read and think, they accepted almost instantly and unconditionally everything the newspaper and the liege said. They did not much care—did not even wonder—what Count Horsman's two armies, seventy thousand men in all, might mean. The liege had said they would win, so of course they would win.
As education advanced and culture developed, this would one day certainly change; but for now, this nearly blind trust and devotion was the necessary condition that kept the Cecil people united and high in fighting spirit.
Nearly half the city had gathered around the dockside square, listening to the rumble of gunfire drifting down from upstream, yet Cecil's remarkably effective discipline still held the working populace in check. Most remained at their posts, going on with their allotted tasks, waiting for tomorrow's "extra" to publish the latest news from the front.
A pair of pale golden, illusory eyes floated above the southern wall. Their color was so faint that they blended almost entirely into the backdrop of the sky, and after several seconds these eyes, congealed from the power of holy light, slowly dissolved.
In a small grove just outside the southern wall, hard against the Dark Mountains, an old man wearing a white priest's robe trimmed with gold and a triple crown of intricate design slowly opened his eyes. A wisp of pale golden radiance flashed and vanished within them.
"Truly astonishing. With war upon them, with invaders outnumbering the whole population of the city, Xuanyue City remains so calm..." The old man in the priest's robe could not help but voice his admiration. "I truly cannot imagine by what bewitching means that Duke Gao Yang Cecil has kept such perfect order in this city..."
A middle-aged pastor at the old man's side could not help shaking his head. "I fear the people in the city do not even know there is a war. If they knew what manner of army was marching upon their city, they would surely have fled long ago."
"Deceit and concealment... That is indeed in keeping with the conduct of a duke who shelters heretics," the old man said mildly, his expression placid. "No doubt those sinners who defied the Lord's will and worship false gods are hiding in the city even now... Brothers, come with me. It is time those heretics faced reality and realized that even fleeing to the Southern Frontier, even hiding in a city of the Cecil, will not let them escape the Lord's punishment."
As he spoke, the old man strode out of the forest, and behind him, one after another, armored figures emerged from their hiding places.