The Magic-guided Vehicle, bearing the emblem of the Empire, crushed the yet-to-soften permafrost of the Arctic region. The melody produced by the wheels and the engine shattered the silence of the wilderness. Vehicle after vehicle, loaded with personnel and supplies, traveled along the Imperial Avenue, winding like a black-brown iron river across this newly overhauled road.

The outline of the northern mountain range became increasingly clear on the horizon. The clear and lofty blue sky, like a backdrop behind the mountains, shimmered brilliantly under the radiance of the giant sun.

Byron gazed through the car window, looking at the scenery so different from the southern borders, the snow-covered mountains. Opposite him, Grand Duchess Victoria sat quietly, like an ice sculpture.

Byron was tasked to go north, to establish the Empire’s coastline on those lands at the northernmost point of the continent. As the representative of the Empire, he was also to welcome guests from the Sacred Dragon Kingdom. Meanwhile, Grand Duchess Victoria had finished her debriefing in the imperial capital and was also returning north, so their paths aligned.

The increasingly clear foreign landscape came into view, and even Byron, a man of rough temperament, couldn’t help but sigh: "I never thought I would visit the northernmost reaches of this country—let alone as a General. Fate is indeed unpredictable."

Sitting opposite, Victoria looked over: "I heard you were once a mercenary who traveled far and wide, General Byron."

"Far and wide..." Byron chuckled, shaking his head. "At that time, dealing with petty thieves and beasts in the mountains and valleys around a town was considered quite experienced. Having visited two or three cities, one could claim to have traveled extensively. A bunch of mercenaries boasting in a tavern could never concoct a tale more extravagant than Peibo-Cecil’s railway today. Back in those days... sigh."

The Knight mercenary, nearing fifty and having experienced life from the very bottom to the Empire’s top layers, spoke with a hint of self-deprecation, though his face couldn’t help but evoke a sliver of nostalgia: "But speaking of it, those ten-plus years as a mercenary did let me meet a lot of interesting folks. I remember leading a small mercenary group back then. In it was a swordsman by the name of Eliza or Ilaina... with a personality like a man’s. She was from the north, said her home was in a place called Kazaburgh... For us at the time, it felt as distant as another world."

"It’s Kazaburgh," Victoria corrected, "near Bitter Winter Castle. It’s quite far from the southern borders. How did your friend end up in the south?"

"It’s said that as a child, she traveled with her parents who were merchants. Their caravan encountered bandits near Pompeii... or perhaps fell victim to a leader’s black gauntlet—none of the family survived except her and an old servant. Later, the old servant died, and she drifted to the south... that’s roughly how it went, though no one knows the truth. Mercenaries love to fabricate intriguing backgrounds and experiences as their boast and claim to being ’unique,’ but in reality, they might just be ruffians from nearby villages, and the swords they wield were likely cobbled together and bought from some down-and-out veteran."

Maybe having never heard such a story from the "lower ranks," or perhaps out of newfound interest in the recently declining profession of "mercenary" and the stories behind them, Victoria showed a hint of curiosity: "You later became a knight. What about your companions back then? Did that female swordsman return to the north?"

Byron paused for a moment, shook his head: "No, and she had no chance to return. For ordinary people twenty years ago, the northern parts of the Dark Mountain Range were far too distant."

Victoria looked at Byron for two seconds with her eyes like ice crystals, then calmly withdrew her gaze. She looked out of the car window again, her eyes set on the north, and said seemingly casually: "After spring, the pace of the southern-northern railway artery’s progression will further accelerate. When the Magic Trains speed across this wilderness, no corner of the Empire will seem remote anymore."

"That would indeed be wonderful," Byron laughed at once, "Traveling in the Magic-guided Vehicle for so long, my whole body’s starting to ache—not that I have complaints about the quality of the Imperial Avenue, but clearly, for long-distance travel, the train is more stable and more comfortable."

"The Gorgon River won’t rise until mid-Revival Month, and even on a waterway, one could only reach as far as St. Soniel," Victoria said unhurriedly, "Actually, if His Majesty’s envisioned ’aerial routes’ could be operational sooner, they might be the better choice: flying is surely faster than trains or ships."

"...I don’t think I’m quite ready to embrace the sky yet," Byron thought for a moment, speaking somewhat awkwardly. "I’ve experienced gryphon flying... Regrettably, it didn’t leave any good impressions, and those aircraft made of steel and crystals... they’re even less assuring than the gryphon."

"But the sky will ultimately become a part of future warfare, General Byron," Victoria seriously replied, "Even on old-fashioned battlefields, mages with flying capability have repeatedly shown their ability to turn the tide. If not for past technological and cost limitations, which country wouldn’t want to dominate the blue skies?"

"Of course, of course, I understand the logic," Byron hastily said, appearing rather helpless—he suddenly felt that this Grand Duchess Victoria was somewhat similar to Sir Philip. Both had earnest personalities and the penchant for taking jokes seriously suddenly. Nevertheless, he could rely on his eloquence to spar with Sir Philip but could not counter a well-educated, top-tier aristocrat trained in formal logic and rhetoric. So he could only nod, "In fact, I’ve even considered whether future ships could carry small Dragon Cavalry Aircraft to scout from the high skies for sea conditions and safe routes. It’s just that I’m personally somewhat..."

"Aircraft carried on ships?" Victoria did not mind Byron’s trailing thoughts. Her eyes lit up, and her expressionless face revealed clear curiosity, "Is this your idea for creating the ’Imperial Navy’? Is this your vision for future naval vessels?"

Byron was taken aback, once again realizing the utmost importance of minding one’s words while conversing with a person willing to take things seriously at any moment—his brain just spontaneously dragged in some new technology to fill in the topic to evade awkwardness, and yet the Grand Duchess before him was taking it seriously?

The future Marshal of the Navy instinctively averted his gaze, glancing towards the horizon outside the car window.

There were still a few hours of travel left to reach the northern stronghold.

So... what to concoct next?

...

The biting wind swept up the snow from the mountaintops, swirling and spiraling between the gray-white high walls and the steep rock cliffs of Dragonwatch Keep, as if draping everything in a misty veil. Amid the howling wind and snow, the barrier protecting the city also became blurred, becoming an unnoticeable background color amidst the veil.

Sir Golosh Hickel raised his head, looking at the mountain summit now shrouded in wind and snow. It felt as though he could still sense that gaze piercing through the snowy veil, cast down from the highest palace of Dragonwatch Keep, seeming to fall upon him.

The Earth Dragon Beast beneath him shook its neck slightly with agitation. This unique pack beast of the Arctic seemed to sense a hint of its master’s worries, beginning to scrape its front hooves against the ground gently while occasionally emitting a vague gurgling sound from its throat.

Though it has "dragon" in its name, the "Earth Dragon Beast" of the Sacred Dragon Kingdom bears no relationship with an actual dragon. They are merely gentle herbivores domesticated by the Dragonborn. In this land governed by the Dragonborn, many animals and plants unrelated to dragons are given the "dragon" prefix.

It’s an obsession outsiders cannot comprehend, yet the Dragonborn are long accustomed to it.

After a long while, Sir Golosh turned back to glance at the team following him. He nodded to the red-haired woman riding beside him on the Earth Dragon Beast: "Lady Asharena, let’s set off."

"We should have set off already, we should have done so many days ago," the red-haired woman known as Lady Asharena grumbled, furrowing her brow. "Those councilors and elders whose heads are stuffed full of ice and stones... their anxiety about the ’outside world’ is laughable. I can’t understand why even His Majesty Balogar would be influenced by those guys, suddenly ordering us to wait the day before the diplomatic mission was supposed to depart, having us wait for so long..."

Sir Golosh cast a glance at the red-haired Asharena. He knew this Dragonbranded Witch was always unabashedly candid. The sudden delay of the mission this time certainly didn’t fit the usual style of the Archduke of Dragonblood, but he still replied warmly, "His Majesty has his considerations. It’s not just us and the Archduke that keep the Sacred Dragon Kingdom running, but also those councilors and elders with ’heads full of ice and stones.’ Their opinions must be taken into account."

Asharena shrugged indifferently at Golosh’s words. "Anyway, let those worry-filled councilors continue worrying. May the ice and stones in the mountains effectively protect their hearts, overwhelmed by their concerns over the kingdom,—we shall have a chance to witness the outside world. The ones recorded in the annals of history will undoubtedly be us, not them."

Sir Golosh’s lips twitched into a slight smile, and then the entire team under his guidance began its journey southward, gradually leaving the highlands where Dragonwatch Keep was situated.

Before crossing the final checkpoint at the mountain’s base, Sir Golosh couldn’t resist taking one last look at the snow-clad mountain peak.

Though he consoled the Dragonbranded Witch with words, the doubts within his heart were no less than hers.

The decision to dispatch a diplomatic mission to the Cecil Clan from the Sacred Dragon Kingdom was made many days ago. The personnel and supplies had all been assembled, and he was ready to lead the team. Yet, the entire operation was suddenly ordered to pause, leaving the whole team inexplicably on standby until today.

For this reason, the Sacred Dragon Kingdom even had to specifically send a letter to the Cecil Empire to explain the situation, adding unnecessary steps to the process.

The one who ordered the mission was the Archduke of Dragonblood, and the one who suddenly ordered the mission to be on standby was also the Archduke. The reason given for the second order was that, considering the opinions of the conservative council members, more evaluation and consideration were needed for this diplomatic visit.

But Golosh understood Balogar: the Archduke rarely changes an already issued order for such a reason—this undoubtedly undermines the authority of the Archduke of Dragonblood and leaves many perplexed.

Though this small impact means little to the Archduke, if there isn’t sufficient cause, he would not suddenly do such meaningless things.

So... what truly caused him to change the orders suddenly?

Golosh drew his gaze back from Dragonwatch Keep, repressing all questions to the back of his mind, turning his eyes once again southward.

...

The blazing fire pans dispelled the frigid chill of the Arctic Mountains, inside the roughly shaped and stone-stacked palace, Archduke Balogar of Dragonblood departed from the terrace used to overlook the mountain’s base, walking alone back to his grand yet solitary throne.

The entire throne hall was empty.

All the court officials had dispersed, and the attendants and guards had been sent outside earlier—everyone knew the Archduke often liked to be alone in the hall; he needed a quiet environment to ponder, and everyone in the palace was accustomed to this.

Silence lingered for a moment before Balogar gently exhaled, curling his fingers to tap lightly on the arms of his broad throne.

In the crisp tapping sound, the restriction encompassing the entire hall silently activated, an invisible barrier cloaking the whole space.

Balogar’s steady and solemn voice broke the silence:

"Code AZ-689, Departee calling Omega."

A pale golden communication interface swiftly unfolded before the Archduke’s throne, vibrations of circular images appearing before Balogar as its boundaries.