Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 882 - 881: Fragments of Ancient Books

Since His Majesty Gawain Cecil’s coronation, the entire nation has once again become a whole, and the Administrative Office has issued an order:

To conduct a comprehensive sorting of all books and records across the nation, and to protectively restore all knowledge.

The purpose of this work is to organize the technical materials that have been scattered across the human world since the pioneering era, to mitigate the impact of technological discontinuity in human civilization; to protect historical evidence and records from various regions of the old kingdoms, ending the chaos and distortion of mixed historical and legendary records; to collect and organize all the church’s classics, further reorganize and transform religious forces within the Empire, and weaken and eliminate the missionary class’s monopoly on knowledge.

Countless scholars, priests, and clerical personnel committed themselves to this enterprise, which could influence the Empire for a hundred years to come. Unlike the grand projects that attracted much attention, their work seemed low-key and tedious:

Endlessly entangled with decaying ancient books, organizing files from numerous repetitive, fragmented, or even contradictory texts. Some recorded powerful techniques from the Ancient Gondor Era in moldy old books and dusty scrolls, while others were merely crude verses penned by a clumsy noble poet, all submerged amidst antiquated papers scattered across the country, nearly forgotten in repeated court struggles, church conflicts, and leader wars.

Centuries of civilization’s decline and the chaotic medieval-style aristocratic system have indeed destroyed many things; too many treasures have been dusted over in this process.

As one participant in this endeavor, Sevin Terry’s work actually began earlier: shortly after Lu’an City was taken over by the Cecil Clan, he was already dealing with these books spanning centuries here.

Lu’an City, once the headquarters of the Southern Holy Light Church, was the largest cultural center and ”knowledge hub” in the southern borders. Priests, monopolizing theocracy and vast knowledge, tirelessly collected books from the Southern borders into the libraries large and small of this church city. Starting from the Second Dynasty, they did so for a hundred years—when books equaled treasures, nearly every noble and church practiced this.

The relentless ”plundering” actions of the missionaries of the old era led to the further decline of other regions in the south, yet from another perspective, Sevin Terry had to admit: it was precisely this greedy plundering and collecting behavior that allowed many precious classics to be preserved amidst the chaotic decline of the southern borders.

Sevin Terry stopped in front of a towering bookshelf; he looked up, his gaze sweeping between the somber-covered tomes and gradually moving upwards until it reached the solemn, heavy stone dome.

This is the last library in Lu’an City that has not yet completed archiving and sorting. The books stored here are mostly copies collected from various eras and ”books of disbelief” unrelated to the Church of the Holy Light. Such books are not valued in this city, so the storage conditions are rather poor. The ancient array used to filter the air in the library barely operates like a broken bellows, and the blessings meant to delay the mildew and decay of books on each shelf are incomplete. Many precious materials that could have been preserved are thus slowly turning into remnants in the daylight-less environment—for the sake of rescuing these precious books, the most excellent book menders, copyists, and grammar scholars in the Lu’an area have been gathered together, yet even so, the work progress here remains the slowest.

But fortunately, progress is made every day; more and more precious materials are being discovered and restored, copied, reproduced, or stored in new media before being completely destroyed.

At this moment, a Church Attendant in a gray short robe hurried over from the side, respectfully bowing his head before Sevin Terry: ”Archbishop, we found a book that looks a bit strange.”

Archbishop, this is the new title following the church’s reorganization, replacing the previous titles of cardinal or district Archbishop. Sevin Terry never imagined he would one day hold such a position, but given the situation where St. Soniel’s bishop team martyred in a day, most regional bishops were expelled, and the middle and upper clerical staff of the Southern Diocese underwent a major reshuffle, it was inevitable that he, with both seniority and progressive views in Lu’an City, would rise to Archbishop in a few years.

”A somewhat strange book?” Sevin furrowed his brow, ”Take me to see it.”

A book lay open on a workbench between shelves; its surface dust and mold stains had already been cleaned once. The smell of some alchemical potion lingered in the air, and neatly arranged beside it were potion bottles, writing tools, as well as knives, ivory plates, and parchment strips for restoring ancient books. This made the book on the table look like a corpse awaiting dissection—surrounded by forensic tools, while the repairers and copyists waited for this cadaver to reveal its secrets.

Sevin Terry shook his head, driving away the unfounded wild thoughts from his mind. After confirming the book’s condition with the repairer nearby, he sat down and carefully opened the pages while asking the people beside him, ”Any discoveries?”

”This is a composite book—the collector seems unaware of its complex and profound origins and treated it crudely like a rural biography, roughly merging unrelated fragments together,” explained a gray-haired scholar standing to the side. ”Initially, we only noticed a few rural tales at the beginning and annotations made by some noble of a declined clan, nearly missing what lay after.”

A crudely compiled book—Sevin Terry was not unfamiliar with this situation. Nobles of a declined clan in remote areas did such things; they were barely smarter than the peasants in fields, yet maintained their noble dignity and ”image of wisdom” by collecting and compiling fragmented and lost book remnants into volumes to show off their knowledge and noble heritage. However, true restoration of fragments could only be done by profound scholars; what those uneducated people did was just slap together books they couldn’t even understand themselves.

The Archbishop shook his head, skipping past the boring rural tales at the start, and flipped through the pages. The scholar then leaned closer, pointing to some obscure corners or inconspicuous parts of the pages, ”Please look here, and here, these patterns...”

”They appear to be some sort of heraldry... shield-shaped frame, thorns, frost symbols...” Sevin Terry’s brows gradually knitted together. ”A noble emblem, high aristocracy, but the recorder deliberately distorted it, seemingly not intending to reveal their identity. We need a heraldry expert or an expert in noble lineage.”

”Mr. Burklan has just authenticated these patterns, Your Excellency Archbishop,” the scholar said, ”After reverse restoration according to heraldry rules, we confirmed this is the insignia of the Northern Wilder Clan.”

”The Northern Duke?” Sevin’s expression suddenly grew serious, ”Did a Wilder Clan member leave this part of the pages?”

”A relatively core member—professionally adept in heraldry and qualified to use the family emblem at will. Additionally, we detected faint Magic Power marks in the pages—these parchments are six hundred years old, yet their Magic Power has not completely dissipated, suggesting they might have been left by one of the earliest Northern Dukes!”

Sevin Terry couldn’t help but exclaim in a low voice, ”Six hundred years?!”

”Yes, the alchemical reaction identification result surprised us too—it’s a miracle they could be preserved safely under poor conditions, but I think it is related to the Magic Power still lingering within the pages till now,” the scholar nodded, ”However, although the pages are mostly intact, the handwriting inside is significantly worn and smudged; we are working on ways to restore this part.”

”...Perhaps we need to report this matter; Duchess Victoria would be interested,” Sevin Terry gently sighed and nodded, ”Also, can we trace the origins of this book? I’m quite curious about why it ended up here.”

”We can only trace part of it. The collection records here show that the book was offered by a small church in the southeast—they almost lost it to theft over there, and subsequently, the local church priests deemed it unfit to stay there, so they offered it to Saint Lu An Cathedral. It is apparent that the book wasn’t given much attention even after being presented.”

Sevin Terry listened to the report from the person beside him, his brow furrowing slightly again.

...

The wind brushed by his ears, and the summer sky appeared high and vast. An obscure shadow leapt across rooftops, eventually settling atop a clock tower in the Mage District. Slowly emerging from the shadows was Amber.

The ”half-elf” girl sat on the edge of the clock tower in an externally perilous pose, enjoying the carefree breeze, smiling as she viewed the city below.

She relished the feeling of jumping between rooftops, not for the reason Gawain often teased her about a ”career ailment hard to cure,” but truly for the sense of openness and freedom felt during jumps—an endless sky, wind rushing past her ears. It’s a feeling that may leave many fearful, yet it inexplicably calmed Amber.

She never contemplated reasons behind this preference before, but upon reflection, she realized it might be because she spent long periods in a gloomy, enclosed place away from the sunlight...

Compared to the monotonous shadow realm, this colorful ”real world” is far more intriguing.

Amber opened her small bag, retrieving various snacks she regularly collected, and spread them out on the narrow platform of the clock tower, beginning to enjoy this rare moment of leisure (slacking).

The avenue leading to the Imperial Academy stretched out diagonally below her, with various pedestrians visible on the road.

Some locals wore summer attire, mainly shirts, trousers, or simple dresses, while visitors from elsewhere donned diverse outfits. Among busy ordinary citizens and students in Imperial Academy uniforms bustling about, Amber even spotted gray elves with childlike statures and gray-white hair, along with robust beastmen. They spoke in various peculiar dialects and foreign languages, traversing this bustling imperial capital—for education, wealth, or simply broadening their horizons.

Since the diplomatic actions last year yielded results, amid increasingly frequent economic and cultural exchanges, the previously isolated and rigid continents finally began to ease. Daily, more visitors flocked to this first international city of the new era or other bustling cities of the Empire. These visitors brought unimaginable benefits to merchants from the old era, and these benefits made many flock to the new era.

Everything began to cycle.

Sitting in a high tower were the Empire’s Minister of Intelligence and the Supreme Commissioner of Internal Security, snacking on melon seeds while overseeing everything.

”The city’s population seems to be growing, and there are many strange land races,” a voice suddenly came from behind Amber, ”You humans certainly have many peculiar intelligent species...”

Amber was startled by this sudden voice, almost tumbling off the tower with her snacks: ”Good heavens!!”

After stabilizing herself, she turned and glanced behind, seeing Tiel’s face peeking from the shadows where the tower’s bell was housed—further back was the upper body of the sea demon lady and a large coiled snake tail.

”You scared me!!” Amber glared, still unsettled looking at this deep-sea fish. As a master of shadows, it was rare for anyone to startle her such, and worse was she hadn’t sensed Tiel behind, ”What are you doing there!”

”Finding a spot to sleep,” Tiel yawned, ”Betty is leading people to clean and change the water in the pool in my room, so I came out looking for a place to nap...”

”I almost fell,” Amber glared at Tiel again, ”I tell you, your casual occupation of public facilities for sleeping should be legislatively banned...”

”I don’t believe even this height would be fatal for you—I saw you jump from the city center’s Magic Broadcast Tower once, using shadow travel sixty times to reach the ground, not even messing up your hair—that height would kill me thrice, the tragic kind, splattered,” Tiel said proudly, subsequently disregarding Amber’s subtle expression as she moved forward, popping her head out the clock tower to observe the view below while mumbling, ”It’s truly lively... In Antawen, we haven’t seen such a lively scene for ages.”

”Antawen... I remember it’s your sea demons’ capital,” Amber swiftly adapted to Tiel’s topic switch, ”I’ve always been curious, what kind of society do you sea demons have?”

Tiel glanced at Amber, ”Indeed worthy of a Minister of Intelligence, are you trying to gather intel?”

”Just chatting,” Amber rolled her eyes, ”You’re overthinking.”

”Actually, it’s fine,” Tiel said casually, ”If you want to listen, I can tell you a bit.”