Chapter 833 — 来自南方的异乡人

Inside the brightly lit R&D workshop, the prototype of Steel Wing was disassembled again into individual components and laid out on platforms and supports.

Along the lower edges of that pair of massive metal wings, the broken and twisted metal structures stood out strikingly.

Amid a clattering din, Rebecca emerged from under one of the giant wing structures, grease smeared on her face and a freshly removed part in her hand.

"A magic capacitor used for load balancing burned out. It should be the main cause of the entire device losing balance," Rebecca said to the technician beside her, holding up the part in her hand. "All the other mechanical failures and component deformations were caused during the crash."

Maggie leaned in curiously and looked at the disc-shaped component in Rebecca's hand: "Why? How did it suddenly overload?"

"If I'm not mistaken... it was probably caused by accelerating too fast, so too much waste energy built up and couldn't be released in time, and then you happened to perform an overly large maneuver, like a sharp roll or something, and it blew the mana capacitor outright," Rebecca said with a frown. "We really didn't take this into account... humans simply can't pull off that kind of move—their bodies couldn't take it. We still don't know enough about dragons..."

Rebecca was still muttering, but Maggie’s expression had already turned awkward. With a hint of shame, she lowered her head: “It… it was my fault…”

Rebecca immediately shook her head: "No—a failure like this occurring during flight is itself a design problem. The mana capacitor has a limited load, and we should have added safeguards from the start. Actually, that's also good news—at least the fault lies in the design; we can solve it bit by bit by redesigning and retesting. If it were a fundamental flaw in material strength, that would be a real problem."

Maggie wasn't an expert in magical technology, but after working as a tester with Rebecca's research team for so long, she was no longer a stranger to the relevant technical terms and concepts, and she understood that everything was indeed as the other party had said—oversights in design could be corrected, which was always easier to overcome than difficulties with materials.

Except that a trace of shame still lingered in her heart, because in the final analysis, she herself had caused the crash.

网络繁忙，请稍后重试

Although Rebecca was usually not very good at reading people, at this moment she could at least guess what Maggie was thinking. She waved her hand vigorously: "Don't overthink it. Testers are meant to test all kinds of extreme data on the prototype, and equipment damage is unavoidable in the process. Finding problems during test flights is always better than causing an accident after the prototype goes into mass production."

At this point, Cecil Steelball seemed to suddenly remember something, stroked his chin, and changed tack: “And rather than worrying about my side of things, you’d better think carefully about how you’re going to apologize to Tyr when you get back...”

Maggie was taken aback, her face full of confusion: “Miss Tier?”

When I went back for dinner yesterday, I saw Tyre squirming around in the hallway, telling everyone that she had been stabbed to death by an iron jaw that fell from the sky—counting it up, this should be the second time you've dropped something on her; last time you hit her with a Dragoon prototype...

Maggie: “……”

...

The glow of the setting sun shines among the mountains of the northern frontier, its pale golden light spilling across the undulating ridgelines, while the majestic Winterhold stands atop ice, snow, and rock, overlooking this land of ice and snow—a landscape utterly different from the south, with far less bustle and fervor, yet imbued with a grandeur and vastness that seeps into the very marrow.

Byron, visiting this northern city for the first time, stood on a terrace overlooking most of the city, his gaze filled with this magnificent scenery from the north. Though he was a mercenary by background, he could not help but be moved to much reflection, wanting to sigh at the vastness and splendor of the empire—

"...There are so damn many mountains."

After ransacking his mind, Byron found that he had only this one sentence, and beyond that could not come up with a few reliable words at all. He scratched his chin a little awkwardly, and suddenly felt that Philip's usual advice to read more books might actually make some sense—at least when encountering scenery like this, he would have a few more literary words to describe it...

Just then, a voice suddenly came from behind, interrupting Byron's musings and greatly adding to his embarrassment: "General Byron, what were you just saying?"

Byron turned his head with a somewhat stiff expression and saw the Duchess Victoria, dressed in a white gown, had at some point come onto the terrace and was looking this way with a suspicious expression. The corner of his mouth twitched, and he scratched his face in a highly unnatural manner, laughing awkwardly: "Ah-ha... just talking to myself."

Victoria glanced at Byron twice, seemingly without suspicion, and merely nodded slightly: "The banquet hall is ready. It is time for you, a general of the Empire, to make an appearance."

Byron's expression instantly stiffened, seeming somewhat helpless, but in the end he said nothing and stepped forward to catch up with Victoria.

The envoy from the Holy Dragon Duchy has not yet arrived; tonight's banquet is for making initial contact with the upper echelons of the Northern Region.

A general from the southern part of the empire led a construction corps to the north to build the North Port and a series of facilities along the northern coastline. This was undoubtedly a major undertaking, and the existing nobles of the northern region, along with the officials of the new administrative office, clearly wanted to see what kind of person this general from the imperial capital was. For Byron, however, this kind of "proper high-society socializing" was hardly a comfortable affair.

In the brightly lit great hall of Winterhold, a banquet had been laid out, with precious wines and exquisite foods filling the long tables, a band playing light, lively high-society music in a corner of the hall, and nobles in formal attire of various colors and officials from the government office scattered casually throughout the hall, talking about the strangers from the south and about the North Port project that was about to begin.

Byron was led by Victoria into the hall, where he mingled with these strangers who were nonetheless influential in the North.

Everyone wore a smile, was courteous and politely amiable in just the right measure, and welcomed the "spokesperson of the emperor's will" with a sincere attitude.

Byron, wearing the dark blue uniform of an imperial general with gold fringe and sash, moved through the hall accompanied by Victoria.

As a knight who started out as a mercenary, he is not good at this kind of "high society" life, but as a soldier, he can keep a straight face the whole time and maintain a cold persona without being accused of lacking manners.

Likewise, as a knight of mercenary origin, he is very good at reading people in all kinds of situations.

He could distinctly feel that more than half of the people here were keeping a guarded, wait-and-see attitude toward him as an “outsider,” and this did not surprise him in the least.

After chatting with who-knows-how-many Count XX, Byron excused himself from the scene on the grounds that the hall was stifling, and went out onto the balcony to get some fresh air and give his brain a rest.

The sound of undisguised footsteps came from the direction of the banquet hall. Byron turned around and saw Victoria Wilde walking toward him.