Chapter 706 — Long Time No See

Bard Wendell had no idea where he had been taken, but not because he was blindfolded or had been moved while unconscious; in fact, the soldiers and officials escorting him never once forbade him from looking around. That he could not figure out his own position or destination was purely because everything he saw along the way exceeded his knowledge and imagination.

Such a prosperous and orderly city, so distinctive in style and so full of life—he had once thought Rockstone City, near the Holy Spirit Plains, was already an astonishingly grand metropolis, but only now did he realize why that warden had kept saying Rockstone was merely a border market that had sprung up quickly, and that the true prosperity of the Southern Region lay farther south still.

Xuanyao City, the miracle capital at the foot of the Dark Mountains—no wonder the arcanist who shared his quarters had advised him, once sober, to come see it for himself if he ever had the chance.

It was hard for Bard to imagine how a frontier territory that had been barren wasteland just four years ago could have developed into this. Perhaps, judging by historical depth and the number of complex classical buildings (such structures took far longer to raise, and the older the city, the more of them it possessed), Xuanyao still seemed too young—yet its prosperity and vitality were unlike anything this former Typhon general had seen in all his life.

He recalled the Southern Region as it had been when he fled in haste after his mission failed. It had not looked like this then.

Mana-driven mechanical vehicles glided smoothly along broad, clean roads. Along the roadside one could glimpse, here and there, crystals floating in midair to power the city's facilities, and holographic projections flickering at intersections and plazas. The content of those projections changed constantly, news and scenery from distant regions brought close in an instant. Energetic pedestrians greeted one another on the street, showing not the slightest sign of listlessness or hardship despite the weather's steady turn toward cold.

The fully armed escort soldiers sat beside him, but they merely monitored Bard's movements and did not stop this particular "extraordinary criminal" from gazing about the whole way. Only as they neared the city center did he hear his prisoner suddenly break the silence: "...I hear that during the Holy Spirit Plains war, Xuanyao City turned out in a single month as much steel made into weapons as the entire old kingdom used to consume in a year, and sent it to the front..."

The soldier glanced at Bard. He did not know why the prisoner had suddenly brought this up, but he nodded with pride nonetheless. "That's right, but that's only the part the newspapers mentioned. The fighting on the Holy Spirit Plains lasted a good deal longer than a month, and steel wasn't the only thing the factories converted."

"...Yes. So there was another way after all..."

The prisoner let out a vague sigh, inexplicable in content, and then fell silent again, continuing to stare abstractedly at the scenery outside. He did not speak again.

The soldier shook his head. This really was an odd fellow.

The vehicle drove down the avenue, crossed Pioneer Plaza, and finally, guided by another squad of soldiers, was led to the front of a large building.

Bard got out of the vehicle silently and obediently.

Ever since he had been suddenly taken from his cell and put into a strange, armored, mana-powered vehicle escorted by soldiers, he had vaguely realized who wished to see him—and to this arrangement of fate, he had long since felt not the slightest inclination to resist.

The soldiers were rigorous and dutiful. Though Bard displayed the utmost cooperation throughout, these men carried out the handover and escort procedures to the letter, ushering him into the building. As a former Typhon general and a member of a cult, Bard had privately calculated the whole process as well, and had concluded that even if he had a mind to flee, he likely could not have run a hundred meters and lived.

Every soldier here carried a mana reaction; the magical devices that had once blasted him half to death were their most basic equipment, to say nothing of the countless mana traps and monitoring devices that might be hidden here. Just as, back then, burning a newspaper in a bar had drawn a whole squad of peacekeepers down on him, in a facility that looked this important, similar surveillance devices would only be more numerous.

And yet these soldiers were all just ordinary people.

Bard kept his head down and walked forward under the guidance of the escort soldiers.

But more than ninety percent of the people in this world... were ordinary people.

The soldier stopped before a door, nodded to the attendant guarding it, then pressed Bard's shoulder and gave him a push forward. "Once you're inside, keep respectful. Good luck."

Inside the room, Gao Yang saw a long-unseen face appear before him. Though they had met only once a few years ago, in his enhanced memory the face's former appearance remained perfectly clear.

Compared with several years before, this face had plainly fallen into decline. Beard and hair were ill-tended, and the eyes no longer held their former pride and confidence. Whether the sinister air of a cultist or the sharp edge of a former Wolf General, both seemed to have vanished utterly.

Yet when Bard walked to the center of the room and met Gao Yang's gaze head-on, those decayed eyes still changed somewhat.

Some luster returned to his eyes. Then he strove to straighten his body, adjusted his gray-white prison uniform, and bowed slightly. "I salute you, Your Majesty Gao Yang Cecil."

His bearing was that of a captured general facing the sovereign of another nation.

How ironic, he thought. Years ago he had so resolutely cast aside his own honor and chosen to devote himself to a grand yet dark cause—and yet today, years later, reduced to the lowest point of his fortunes, he had instead straightened his back.

"We meet again, Mr. Bard Wendell," Gao Yang said, studying the other man. He neither launched into immediate denunciation nor offered any mockery or scorn. "Divine officer of the Church of All Things' End, the Wolf General of the Typhon Empire who feigned death and fled... I truly never imagined that all these days you were right under my nose."

Wolf General... Hearing this title he had once abandoned, Bard's eyes held only calm. He glanced at Gao Yang. "It seems you have investigated a great deal about me."

"I merely happen to have certain channels," Gao Yang said with a smile. "When I first heard that a strange prisoner was squatting in the Rockstone City jail, cadging food and drink and refusing to be driven out no matter what, I truly never guessed it was you... Only when I saw your name appear in the reports did I have to marvel at how wondrously fate arranges things."

"I never expected to see you again under these circumstances either," Bard said, his brows knitting slightly. "So, since you have already discovered... it seems my comfortable days are over."

"As a divine officer of the Church of All Things' End, you have committed countless crimes. But to be honest, I have not come today to judge you," Gao Yang said, gazing into Bard Wendell's eyes. "Cecil esteems rule of law and justice. When you last appeared on this land, Cecil did not yet rule the Southern Region. I cannot try the crimes of a previous dynasty under today's law. But for what you did in the Leslie domain, there are others who are qualified to render judgment."

Bard was taken aback. In the very moment of his distraction, another door on the side of the room opened.

A tall, lean middle-aged man stepped out from that door—his face slightly pale, carrying a decorative cane, dressed in a dark blue overcoat.

Viscount Andrew Leslie, former lord of the Leslie domain, today the magistrate of Tamsin City.