Chapter 792 — Matilda
Blade of Dawn Page 1 of 2
Seated in the smoothly gliding magi-carriage, Matilda let her gaze drift out the window.
The broad, level road stretched ahead along her line of sight, a great avenue wide enough for eight or nine large coaches to drive abreast—plainly designed to bear the pressures of modern traffic. Neatly staggered, handsome and imposing buildings lined both sides of the road, in a style new and unlike Typhon's, yet also unlike old Ansou's—retaining the classical elegance of the northern kingdoms, combined with some pleasingly orderly lines and regular forms.
Between these buildings and the road could be seen rows of streetlamps, magical projections set at intersections or in open spaces, signposts designed for magi-carriages to stop at, and—in this season when winter had not yet retreated—crowds of welcomers who had poured into the streets in bright, thick winter clothes.
Upon those magical projections, upon the large colored paintings at the stops, were displayed all manner of welcoming slogans and images, and even live footage of the convoy as it drove along.
This was the modern capital of magic, Xuanyao City...
Matilda withdrew her gaze, yet kept her transcendent senses open, attending to the movements on the road outside. She looked at Philip, who shared the carriage with her, and on the young army commander's face she saw a pride that was all but undisguised.
That was only natural; a noble of such rank and standing would of course show such pride before a foreign ambassador.
But out on the road, those Cecil folk said to be merely "ordinary citizens"—their faces bore curiosity, excitement, and many another expression, yet also a pride of the same kind. That was not so ordinary.
"I hope you are satisfied with the welcome we have arranged," Philip said, smiling as he looked into the eyes of the Typhon princess before him. "Cecil and Typhon differ in many customs and habits, but we share a common root, and that root can serve as a bond to draw our two nations closer still."
"It is my sincere hope that we shall have a more lasting peace," Matilda said, smiling likewise. "It would benefit us all."
The magi-convoy bearing the Typhon mission drove along Xuanyao City's straight "Pathfinder Avenue," escorted by the cheers of citizens and the guard of the peacekeeping corps and the steel rangers, making for the royal district. They gradually left the outer wards behind and entered the city center; as a great plaza came into view beyond the carriage window, all the Typhon envoys, Matilda included, suddenly heard a tremendous burst of cracking reports—
It was like thunder splitting the air, and not far off; the reports were not a single burst but more than thirty in succession.
Some in the envoy party showed looks of alarm and uncertainty, and even Matilda could not help glancing at Philip across from her; but he only smiled at her. "No need for alarm—it is only the salute guns.
"Firing salute guns to welcome guests from afar is the custom in Cecil."
Matilda blinked. In her surprise she recalled some of the intelligence she had gathered before, and strange thoughts could not help flashing through her mind—
The Cecil folk did seem fond of welcoming their guests with these loud reports of cannon, only sometimes they fired them into the sky, and sometimes into their guests' heads...
"An interesting custom," she said, smiling. "In a new age, new customs and habits do indeed arise."
As noon drew near and the great sun climbed toward its zenith, the Typhon delegation led by Matilda came before Gao Yang.
After a welcome ceremony—not lavish, yet sufficiently grand and solemn, and for the Typhon folk quite novel—Gao Yang stood at the steps of the "Autumn Palace," smiling as he regarded that "flower of the high peaks."
At his side stood Hetty and Rebecca, several high officials of the Ministry of Governance, and Verodai, holding the platinum scepter.
Amber was nowhere to be seen, but those familiar with her knew the director of Military Intelligence was certainly present—merely not yet distilled out of the air.
Matilda wore an elaborate, classical black court gown, her long black hair adorned with fine golden chains that fell to her waist. With impeccable poise she walked slowly to Gao Yang and bowed her head slightly. "I salute you, Great Emperor Gao Yang Cecil.
"On behalf of the Augustus family, I bring the friendly intentions of Typhon.
"May you enjoy health and long life, and may your deeds be passed down through the generations."
"In a sense, your last sentence is not a blessing but a statement of fact," Gao Yang said with a touch of humor, stepping forward. "Welcome to Cecil."
What followed was the tedious yet unavoidable round of official pleasantries; both sides smiled and spoke the compliments they had prepared in advance, yet everyone still had to keep up the air of solemn statecraft, doing their utmost to make this hollow mutual flattery seem a little more sincere.
Within seconds Rebecca had grown bored and even sneaked a yawn. Watching Matilda Augustus chatting and laughing so amiably with her Xuanmai Sect, she could not help muttering to herself; she glanced left and right—Aunt Hetty on one side, Verodai on the other. Idle talk with the former might earn her a rap on the knuckles, so she turned to the latter. "Hey, tell me—she's a princess, and I'm a princess too, so how come I can't split a single compliment into three parts the way she does?"
That was a hard question to answer—after all, back when the Ansou dynasty still stood, Verodai could split one and the same compliment into four parts.
So this "saintess," wreathed in a faint holy light, kept silent and only shook her head slightly; then her gaze settled on Matilda and did not leave her for a long while.
As if sensing something, Matilda raised her head and met a pair of eyes—gentle, placid, yet lacking the living texture a person ought to have, as though carved from crystal.
In those eyes seemed to lie some manner of probing scrutiny fraught with meaning, and Matilda's heart stirred faintly; but when she looked more closely, she found that the eyes seemed merely to have swept over her, and that strange sense of scrutiny had already vanished.
After the reception ceremony came a grand luncheon.
The formal negotiations concerning the establishment of embassies, the exchange of ambassadors, the exchange of students, and many other matters were set for the next day; but before the formal talks, the upper echelons of both sides could use banquets and the like to conduct an early "exchange of attitudes." Amid fine food and music, such an exchange could proceed with relative ease, and provided both parties rather hoped the matter would succeed, these preliminary dealings often yielded excellent results.
Matilda savored the exquisite dishes unlike any in Typhon, cutting with her knife into roast meat sprinkled with all manner of spices, while maintaining a dignified and elegant bearing, showing no excessive fondness for any one dish. Her gaze swept over the servants moving through the banquet hall, the magical images set about the hall, and the "Cecil princess" not far off who seemed not especially adept at table manners, and at last came to rest on Gao Yang. "I had heard before that the Ansou are very skilled at roasting meat, so much so that the palace chefs of Typhon are eager to learn the Ansou way with spices. But now that I have truly tasted it, I realize their imitation is only ever imitation—the genuine article is something else entirely."
"Then I fear you wrong your palace chefs," Gao Yang said with a smile. "The dishes before you are not traditional 'Ansou cuisine,' but things I came up with out of boredom in the past two years—they seem to suit your taste?"