Chapter 532 — Feedback

With a heavy iron gate rising slowly under the power of the winches, the towering Royal City of Anseth opened its gates to the guardian of this kingdom; beneath a pall of leaden clouds, a procession of more than ten carriages, along with a great many knights and guards, entered the city.

The carriage wheels rolled over the ancient flagstones, centuries old; the slightly loosened slabs trembled faintly, and small stones kept up a grating chatter between wheel and stone—but the grating did not last long before it was drowned out by the sudden burst of flutes and drums from the musicians in the procession.

Victoria opened the side panel of the carriage a crack, and through that narrow gap she saw empty streets outside—a heavy snow had visited Saint Sunil not long ago, and the drifts covered the whole of the city quarter. On such a freezing day, even the residents of the royal capital would not venture out lightly, and this was, besides, a poor folk's alley near the outer city: all the Duchess could see was a vast whiteness of streets and snow-covered rooftops. Some areas had already been shoveled clear, but most still wore the look of snow just fallen.

In the corner of her vision stood a collapsed dwelling, seemingly crushed by the snow. The ruins naturally had no occupants left, and she could not tell where the family who had once lived there had gone—or where they had died.

The flutes and drums played on, echoing forlornly through the deserted streets, as though a troupe of clowns were laboring through their jokes on a stage with no audience—comical and strange. But the musicians did not care: the music they played was not meant to draw the nearby residents out to welcome a noble's carriage, but to let the soldiers at the rear of the procession quickly dress their ranks once inside the city, and at the same time to warn any passersby ahead (if there were any) to clear the way.

So whether anyone answered hardly mattered.

The carriage's panel was closed again.

The convoy passed through the slums of the South City, through the middle city where the burghers lived, and continued on toward Silver Keep. After it crossed Iron Cross Avenue, the monotonous, dry drumbeats from outside finally ceased, and more and more voices came from every direction.

The convoy entered the inner city quarter, where the upper burghers and lesser nobles lived—once that avenue was crossed, here at last appeared a hint of the prosperity befitting a royal capital.

On the broad streets the snow had been swept clean, and wealthy burghers and lesser nobles in gaudy, heavy winter clothes, having long since heard the sounds from the middle city, came running from their homes to line the road and welcome the convoy. The cold north wind and the snowflakes it raised could not dampen their enthusiasm; they craned their necks at the roadside, watching the carriages bearing the crest of House Wilder, the royal crest, and the crest of the Church of the Shining Star roll past, then burst into cheers and exclamations. Winter flowers forced into bloom by magic and colored silk ribbons were flung into the air, drifting down like a rain of multicolored blossoms, and everyone who threw those flowers and silks hoped the carriage at the head of the procession might open a window for a moment, that whoever sat inside might show themselves and greet them—in ordinary days the Northern Duchess and the Saint Princess both resided in castles and cathedrals, and common prosperous burghers and lesser nobles had no chance to look upon their faces; now that the convoy was passing through the wealthy quarter, this was a rare opportunity indeed.

Yet today was plainly different from other days. Beneath the crowd's eager gazing, not one carriage opened its panel; the whole procession merely kept its pace, passing through the crowd without a moment's pause, through the entire block outside Silver Keep, and on into the distant castle...

Victoria, Duchess of Wilder, in a white gown, led her maids and attendants through the central courtyard of Silver Keep and the corridors of the main keep to the study on the castle's upper floor. There, Grand Duke of the West Bo Yu Franklin, dressed in a warm, comfortable silk robe, sat in a recliner by the fireplace, wholly absorbed in a hefty volume. Seeing the Duchess appear so suddenly, the Grand Duke of the West started slightly, then quickly rose to welcome her: "Ah, Duchess Wilder—pray forgive me for not greeting you in the Long Hall. This book has quite captured me."

Victoria's gaze swept over the cover of the book in Duke Bo Yu's hands, where a long string of words was stamped in gold: A History of Currency Evolution and the Shifting of Trade Routes in the Northern Continent.

The Franklin family was hailed as "the purse of Anseth." Being neighbors to the multiracial, trade-flourishing Augrey Tribal State, the Dukes of the West through the generations had all been shrewd in business, and Bo Yu Franklin was foremost among them; the books he loved best were naturally of this domain.

But at this moment, seeing the book, Victoria could not help sighing: "Perhaps it should have been you who made this journey to the South."

"Oh?" Bo Yu Franklin could not help raising an eyebrow. "It seems the trip did not go smoothly? Did our founding hero give you trouble?"

"No, all went smoothly. Grand Duke Gao Yang Cecil was cordial and friendly, and we even struck a great bargain—which is why I say it should have been you."

The Duchess's tone seemed as flat as ever, but Bo Yu, who had known her long, detected a faint, hard-to-catch irritation in the depths of this "Ice Queen's" eyes. He set the book aside, his expression turning grave: "What did you see in the South?"

"...A better place than Saint Sunil," Victoria said, weighing her words; it took her a long while to get them out. Then she shook her head. "I will tell you the details of the South later. For now, let us speak of what this journey achieved."

Bo Yu Franklin listened carefully to Victoria's account, his brows now knitting, now relaxing, his fingers unconsciously rubbing a ruby ring worn on his left hand. Though the Duchess gave only a brief summary of the negotiations in the South, from the phrasing and word choice in her sparse remarks he could still sense how profoundly this "Queen of the North" had been stirred by that mysterious southern land.

It surprised and startled him greatly—so there were still things in this world that could shake this ice-bound lady so.

"So, Duke Cecil at least acquiesces to Prince Wells's coronation, and will not openly support the East... and he further stated he will not invoke that emergency right of succession from seven hundred years ago," Duke Bo Yu said unhurriedly once Victoria's account had paused. "That is somewhat better than we expected."

"Indeed," Victoria nodded. "Beyond that, he agreed to provide paid armament aid to the royal army—had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed that transcendent armaments could truly be mass-produced."

Bo Yu's interest was keenly roused: "What sort of equipment was it? Do you have samples I might see?"

"He gifted me a sword, along with several sets of armor and weapons as samples," Victoria said, and turned to the attendant standing at the door. "Bring the things in."

A heavy chest was carried into the room, and the sample arcane armor, molten-cut swords, crystal grenades, and searing-ray projectors were laid out before Duke Bo Yu.

"...Truly exquisite weapons." Bo Yu Franklin regarded the machine-made arms and armor with a touch of admiration, and picked up a molten-cut sword to examine closely. Following Victoria's directions, he activated the sword's arcane mechanism, and with a low hum the blade, clad in a thin layer of purple steel plating, was at once sheathed in a searing magical force field.