Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 1134: Chapter 1133: The People Heading to Talronde

The old man in outdated clothes vanished from the platform like a shadow dissipating under the sunlight, but the coin in his hand still retained its warmth. The young man blinked his eyes and only after a few seconds did he finally react from his astonishment.

He subconsciously rubbed the coin in his hand before putting it into his pocket. As a fee for a simple directional inquiry, this income was already considerable—calculated by purchasing power, it even surpassed the days when he was selling "information" to adventurers in the town’s streets and alleys as a local ruffian. Thinking of this, the young man couldn’t help but smack his lips.

Adventurer, "information," guiding, a coin as payment... Thinking carefully, it really felt like a return to the old days.

He curled the corner of his mouth as he flexed his legs, which had grown a bit sore from wandering on the platform for too long. He headed towards the exit along with the sparse crowd. Not far from him, a freight train, far more rugged in design than regular passenger trains, was stationed next to the cargo platform. The large sliding doors on the side of the carriage had already opened, and the loaders, fully prepared, moved forward under the foreman’s command to transfer the cargo from the carriages to the trailers.

The bearded foreman stood beside the loading area, directing operations while gazing at the standardized crates. The seal on the side of the wooden crates clearly bore the emblem of the Commonwealth Alliance.

In the Northport dock area, the Duchess Victoria was standing on a platform. The drizzle, stirred by the breeze, swept towards the platform, yet before it could reach, it was redirected by an invisible force, leaving only the cool breeze swirling around the Duchess. She raised her head, gazing out at the vast, gently undulating sea beyond the dock. A dim, misty twilight enveloped the ocean, shrouding the distant scenery in thin sea fog. Even the keen vision of a Transcendent was of no use before this natural power, but she continued to watch as if she could see something through the mist and twilight.

That was the direction where the Eternal Storm once raged. Just one year ago, there was a storm of miraculous proportions that had obstructed prying eyes for millions of years. On clear days, people on the continent could even see that wall of cloud reaching from beneath the sea surface to the heavens, as if supporting the entire sky.

But now, the storm, once considered an invincible force of nature, has completely disappeared. The mysterious realm behind it has opened its doors to the mortals of the Loren Continent— even Victoria Wilder, known as the "Grand Duke of Ice and Snow," couldn’t help but marvel at the wondrous whims of fate at this moment.

"The last batch of goods for today has been unloaded at the platform," a middle-aged voice suddenly came from the side, bringing Victoria’s gaze back from the sea. "This batch comes from the Moss Woods, and with those that arrived yesterday and the day before, we’ve exceeded our projected goal— next is just to transport them to Talronde."

Victoria turned her head to see Byron Kirk standing beside her, his hair a tousled mess. This Marshal of the Imperial Navy wore a cheerful smile, casting an appreciative gaze over the sea beyond the port. An imposing officer’s cloak draped over his shoulders, yet he wore it with an air of a bandit.

"The weather isn’t great," the Duchess nodded lightly towards the gloomy sky in the distance with experience, "I expect a storm to greet you tomorrow."

"But our sea demon navigators confidently assure us that the weather will clear tomorrow," Byron shrugged, "The Naga say the same thing."

"...Those deep-sea creatures have a different understanding of ’good weather’ than us land-dwellers," the Duchess couldn’t help but frown, "especially those sea demons."

"Then let’s bet, shall we? I trust my navigators; you trust your experience," Byron laughed heartily, "How about betting a pound?"

"Not interested," Victoria replied casually, "I never bet with anyone."

Byron shrugged dismissively, his gaze shifting to the dock not far away— along the long dock extending along the coast, six of the most advanced cargo magic machinery ships looked like small mountains, stably floating on the sea. The hidden cargo holds beneath the decks of four ships were currently open, and with the operation of a series of mechanical devices, a massive amount of grain was flowing like water from the giant freight vehicles on the dock into the ship’s holds. Meanwhile, another loading crew was busy beside the remaining two ships, transferring a large number of sealed wooden boxes to the stacking area on the deck.

The fine rain was still drifting down, yet a thin energy shield rose from the dock area, enveloping the entire loading operation area within a protective cover. Those Barrier Generators at the top of the reinforced concrete protective walls glowed with a soft blue light. As long as they kept running, the dock operation area would remain dry and windless.

And further away from the cargo ships, beside another pier, the majestic mechanical battleship "Winter" observed the scene like a silent giant. Its high-tilted Magic Energy Wingboard and imposing turrets stood proudly, with two smaller, newly-fitted frigates moored beside this flagship giant. Resupply operations were being conducted in full swing.

In this increasingly bustling Northport dock, massive shipping and resupply operations almost ran day and night, especially since the onset of summer, with the enormous economic stimulus brought by the circumcontinental route. Almost any merchant with some capability had joined this feast, turning Northport into a true city that never sleeps, with the loading scenes on the dock becoming almost customary for many.

Yet the six cargo ships currently undergoing loading were exceptionally special, so much so that it warranted the personal supervision of the Grand Duke of the North and the highest official of the Imperial Navy. The reason was simple: these ships would genuinely break the "barrier" that had blocked the mortals of the Loren Continent for centuries. They carried a mission of significant importance, one that could even be said to lay the foundation stone for the Commonwealth Alliance: they were going to sail to Talronde.

This was an even more challenging voyage than opening the circumcontinental route—they were set to challenge the distant seas beyond the "nearshore calm line," traditionally perceived as "fierce, chaotic, and unchallengeable" hazardous waters.

"I can hardly believe we’re truly going to challenge the open seas..." After a long silence, Duchess Victoria finally confessed, "And this first challenge is on such a massive scale, targeting what was once the legendary ’Homeland of the Dragons’... If someone had told me about this a few years ago, I would have immediately cast the ’Spell of Feeblemindedness Detection’ on them."

"There’s such a spell?" Byron’s thoughts were evidently not on the same plane as the Duchess. "What use could such a peculiar-sounding spell have?"

"It exists, and it’s a very useful spell," Duchess Victoria glanced at the naval marshal beside her, "Great families need to identify the intellectual potential of their heirs early on to avoid wasting massive cultivation resources. This type of spell is specifically used to select noble offspring under the age of six. In the old era, almost every great family above the rank of Earl would use this method to scrutinize their heirs."

"...Magic is indeed convenient," Byron curled his lips, "but this sounds quite merciless too."

"It’s indeed ruthless, and this practice of concentrating all resources on a handful of elites, abandoning the majority of ’ordinary offspring,’ runs counter to His Majesty’s principles of ’inclusive education’ and ’talent reserve,’" Victoria said expressionlessly, "but you have to admit that sometimes this effective screening method still has its place."

Byron shrugged, quickly losing interest in the topic. He refocused on the upcoming sea voyage and, after a moment’s thought, said, "His Majesty attaches great importance to this voyage. It is not just a demonstration of the Alliance’s strength and ’new order,’ but also a test of all the efforts we’ve made in Northport so far. To be honest, I am not worried about the voyage itself, but my concern lies with Northport—it’s different from the previous missions we executed near Typhon’s coastal waters; once we’re far from land, all fleet communication with the mainland will be cut off."

"You can trust me," said the Duchess calmly. "On this land, not a single snowflake has ever fallen beyond the control of the Wilder Clan."

Byron was silent for a moment before nodding lightly, "...Then I can set my mind at ease."

He then looked out to the sea again. A complex expression of seriousness and anticipation gradually surfaced on the weathered face of this "Knight mercenary."

He knew that he was about to undertake perhaps the most risky challenge of his life—a mission far surpassing the times he led companions to explore ancient ruins and monster nests. In the old days, such a voyage would even be considered a suicidal act, but with the joining of Naga technicians and sea demon navigators, along with the seafaring technologies they brought, such a journey now had the possibility of being realized. More importantly, a group of dragons would accompany them, turning a formerly suicidal voyage into an unforgettable historical feat.

If those old companions who once adventured with him were still around... would they raise a toast for this epic adventure?

In his thoughts, Byron couldn’t help but become more eager for the distant Talronde.

...

Near the city center of Northport, in the first floor hall of the "Arctic Exploration and Development Group Registration Office," playfully dubbed the "Adventurers’ Guild" by the travelling merchants, the once bustling windows had gradually grown quiet as evening approached.

Suddenly, a ringing sound startled the sleepy girl behind the registration window into alertness, and with surprise, she looked toward the door.

A white-haired old man, dressed in a short black magic robe and wearing a black soft hat, stood there. After glancing around the hall, he strode toward the window.

The black short robe was somewhat outdated in this era. Even the formerly distinguished Mage lords had a notion of modern trends. Nowadays, various "modern dress robes" with runic layers and magic threads were swiftly replacing the old robes that were gloomy and inconvenient. They offered the same spellcasting aid with modern and stylish designs—but to the registration staff who frequently dealt with adventurers, these seemingly old-fashioned outfits were still quite familiar; their practicality and durability had been tested over time. Adventurers were more accustomed to using their tried-and-true gear rather than entrusting their lives to "fashionable gadgets."

Yet adventurers of such advanced age were not commonly seen.

Filled with a hint of curiosity, the girl behind the registration window quickly got into spirit and, when the old Mage approached, flashed a formal smile. "Hello, how can I assist you?"

"Register as an adventurer going to Talronde," the old Mage said, his demeanor quite affable, unlike the traditionally arrogant older Mages who had accumulated a lifetime of pride that was hard to shed, "It’s called the Arctic Exploration and Development Group, right?"

"You want to register as..." The girl paused, her eyes couldn’t help but sweep over the old Mage’s body twice, "Are you sure you want to register as an adventurer? If you wish to join the expedition as a scholar, the group is next door..."

"It’s adventurer, I’m not senile yet," the old Mage waved his hand, then suspiciously glanced at the "Adventurer Terms" posted beside the registration window, "Why? Is there a problem? Have you limited the registration age? I seriously checked the promotional materials on my way here; they shouldn’t have restrictions..."

"Well... we indeed don’t place an age limit." The girl was a bit dazed, muttering this while her heart suddenly felt that this lack of an age limit was indeed a loophole—but come to think of it, would there really be any adventurers still taking quests at such an age?

"No age limit, then that’s good," the old Mage didn’t seem aware of the young girl’s inner thoughts and showed a pleased expression, placing his hand on the window. "Give me a registration form, young lady."

"This... alright," the girl nodded dizzily, reaching over to take a blank form attuned with her professional habit, beginning her explanation, "Please fill in your age, birthplace, profession, adventure time, whether any team affiliations, sign your surname and name here, and finally, trace this magic symbol here to leave your mark..."

"Alright, alright, I know, this process isn’t much different from the old adventurers’ guild."

The old Mage impatiently waved his hand and grabbed the form, quickly scanning it before taking the pen at the window, ready to fill it out. But soon, he frowned, muttering as the pen tip glided over the paper, "Age here... I can’t remember, birthplace I’ve forgotten too, profession is fine, adventure time? A few centuries perhaps..."

Listening to the old Mage’s mumbling, the girl couldn’t help but twitch the corner of her mouth. She began to doubt whether the old man genuinely came to register as an adventurer or had just run away from home due to senility—and here she had seriously attended to him. Maybe calling security would be more appropriate?

"If you don’t remember, then leave it blank," the girl said while thinking about the security call, responding to the old man’s remarks to adjust to his emotions and prevent the poor elder from getting agitated. "At least you know how to fill out your name, right?"

The girl’s thought was quite straightforward: if there were an accurate name, it might help the elderly man find his family.

Upon hearing the registrant’s words, the old Mage slightly furrowed his brows, seriously pondering, mumbling while writing: "I can’t recall my surname, although I should have one, first name... Um, Modir, signed, is this acceptable?"