Chapter 1099 — The Aftermath of an Era
Blade of Dawn · Page 1 of 4
Along the coastline of the distant northern frontier, gusts of sea wind swept across the broad, level No. 1 Pier. Bulk cargo lay neatly stacked in the depot area beside the pier, while massive engineering machines, driven jointly by magic engines and weight-reduction runes, bustled about nearby, shifting still more goods onto the platforms of the pre-loading zone.
A great clock tower stood at the edge of the urban district near the harbor, its enormous mechanical face gleaming in the sunlight. Exquisite brass gears clicked and turned behind transparent crystal windows, and hands wrought with lovely openwork patterns crept slowly toward the top of the dial. Below the tower, at the edge of the square, a large arcane-network terminal was broadcasting to the public; the holographic projection above it showed a live feed from Conference Hall No. 112 — the great personages seated beneath solemn stone pillars, while from off-screen came the voice of some commentator.
A handsome, imposing vessel lay berthed at the edge of No. 1 Pier, metal-hulled, with magic wings sweeping up at a slant, runes of light drifting slowly across certain places on its shell. Above the ship a flag symbolizing the Augustrealm Tribal Nation snapped and fluttered in the wind — the vessel had come from the far-off Whitefeather Pier. Designed and built by the shipyards of the Northport Empire, it had been commissioned by a wealthy merchant from Mosswood; over the past while it had made several trading runs between Mosswood and Northport, and now it was making ready for the last voyage of the week.
Further off, more merchant ships great and small were moored alongside piers of every grade. They flew the flags of Cecil, the Augustrealm Tribal Nation, or the Holy Dragon Principality; some bore obvious marks of refitting from older craft, others were wholly new-built modern vessels. Yet whatever their form, they shared common features: high-raised magic wings, and protective systems built to withstand the sea's harsh conditions and bolster elemental resistance. Some ships even hung the Holy Emblem of the Waves at their bows, emblem of the power of storms — meaning a naga technician would accompany them as guardian on the voyage. Once they entered waters near the open sea, these "official vessels" would become the core of a trading convoy, providing the whole fleet with early warning of disordered turbulence.
In the square beside the pier stood a short gray elf with close-cropped gray hair. He wore a small-sized black formal coat and a specially made tall silk hat, and carried a hardwood cane with faint silver graining. Head tilted back, he was staring intently at the holographic projection floating beside the clock tower, and in Northport's chilly sea wind this gray elf merchant kept loosening his cravat, looking both agitated and excited.
Many others were like him, watching the broadcast projection from afar with rapt attention at the square's edge: Cecilian merchants, gray elves and beastfolk from the Augustrealm region, dragonborn from the Holy Dragon Principality, and even elves and mountain folk dressed as mercenaries, representing some trading company or other. These people came from every corner of the world, from different races, yet at this moment they all attended to the same scene.
"Almost time... almost time..." The short gray elf merchant tugged at his collar for the umpteenth time, muttering nervously under his breath.
A black-haired woman dressed like a sailor beside him could not help glancing down at him, and spoke a reminder: "That is the sixth time you have said so. Have a little patience, sir — all of us are waiting."
"I have been waiting since yesterday!" The gray elf swayed from side to side, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Damnation, I even thought of pitching a tent here... but the sheriff would not allow it..."