Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 1153: Chapter 1152: Another Shift in the Winds

In the early morning, Tower Guardian Ge Lin awakens to the low hum of mechanical devices. Sunlight pours into the room through the crystal glass windows on one side of the tower’s lounge, casting alternating light and shadow patterns from the decorative ironwork on the window frame across the floor. The distant sky is vast and cloudless, and the mechanical antenna dish atop the Lu’an Hub is angling slightly, its jagged alloy frame slowly moving past the window, slicing the sky into intricate geometric patterns.

”Not bad, it’s good weather... The Mages’ weather forecasts are getting more accurate.”

The Tower Guardian squints at the sky outside, murmuring softly before taking a deep breath. He then puts on a loose, airy shirt, tidies his appearance briefly, and leaves the room—accompanied by the comforting, low sounds from the mechanical turrets and linkage mechanisms in the upper area, familiar sounds he’s grown accustomed to. He traverses a short corridor and a small set of stairs to a nearby equipment room. A blond young man in a brown shirt is sitting there at the Magic Web Terminal, fully focused on the numbers dancing on the holographic display. Nearby, neatly cut stacks of the latest newspapers are piled up beside the printing device.

The young man is named Ron, a colleague of Ge Lin’s, and the other Tower Guardian of this tower. He was transferred here not long ago, but his earnest and pleasant personality has already left a deep and positive impression on the tower’s ”senior employees.”

”Ah, Mr. Ge Lin,” the blond youth at the Magic Web Terminal hears the sound from the doorway and smiles as he recognizes the visitor. ”Shift change hasn’t happened yet, why are you up so early?”

”A regular routine is good for the body—especially for a middle-aged man like me,” Ge Lin replies with a smile, greeting the young man. ”Viksen hasn’t returned yet?”

”He came back briefly but soon left again with two technicians—the readings from the secondary hub over at Kosentown are a bit off. A nearby factory reported that since yesterday they’ve been unable to receive signals from Lu’an. Viksen thinks yesterday’s thunderstorm might have damaged the secondary hub, so he’s gone to check it himself. Oh, he drove off in that gray Magic-guided Vehicle.”

”Looks like yesterday’s thunderstorm was more intense than we imagined,” Ge Lin says casually as he approaches the Magic Web Terminal. He notices the neatly cut newspapers printed by the network printer have already been perused, and someone has made marks on one of the pages with a red pen. ”Did you find anything interesting in the newspapers, Ron?”

”Ah, I was just about to mention,” the young man named Ron displays a smile mixed with pleasure and mystery, ”Do you remember that ’listening project’ Viksen is always interested in? It’s the project where every major hub has a listening station. Recently, it seems there’s been a remarkable development—they say they’ve received a mysterious signal and scholars have dedicated significant space to discussing this matter. The news isn’t just in one issue of the newspaper...”

Ge Lin honestly hasn’t paid much attention to that listening project. But now, Ron’s excitement is infectious, intriguing him enough to pick up the stack of freshly printed papers emitting a faint ink scent.

What first catches his eye is a bold headline: ”Among the Vast Stars, Could There Be Creatures Capable of Rational Thought Like Us?”

What kind of question is this?

The Tower Guardian’s gaze is immediately drawn to this peculiar title. From his youthful days working as an aristocratic scribe to his middle-aged transition to Tower Guardian of the Magic Web Nexus, he has witnessed and experienced quite a bit throughout his life. But he’s never heard such things before, never heard anyone ask such questions... Among the stars... Why would someone view happenings among the stars this way? And why have they gone to such lengths to discuss it seriously?

According to the priests’ beliefs... among the stars, that should be the kingdom’s direction, shouldn’t it?

Ge Lin instinctively furrows his brows, puzzled, as he continues reading and finds that the entire newspaper is exploring similar topics. In subsequent pages, there’s an even more striking and intriguing title: ”From Caves to Plains, From Underfoot to the Distant—Royal Astrologer Morgan Hugo Guides You to Understand the ’Breadth’ of the World.”

Ron’s voice comes from beside him: ”These are very interesting—although they appear to be dry academic discussion articles, they’re surprisingly easy to understand. I’ve never seen anything like them in any issue of newspaper or magazine discussing theories about the stars above, but I did hear from my teacher that the land under our feet is actually a planet, we revolve around the sun, and the sun revolves around ’Ao.’ Each flickering point in the universe could be a similar celestial system...”

Ge Lin listens to Ron’s exuberant narration, only able to respond perfunctorily—what the young man focuses on seems indeed different from what concerns him as a middle-aged man. Though he’s had complete general education and literacy courses, his attention to these ’far from daily life’ topics is naturally lesser than that of Ron, who’s just over twenty years old. Keeping up with such topics becomes naturally challenging.

Meanwhile, his gaze swiftly sweeps over unrelated reports, advertisements, and trivialities on subsequent pages. Underneath, he spots the ”Cecil Weekly” catching his eye. Expectedly, he sees titles resembling the earlier articles: ”The Celestial Scale in Master Kamel’s Eyes—Knowledge and Wisdom from the Gondor Era.” In the follow-up part of the article, there’s a mention of a promotion indicating that to further improve national literacy and enrich citizens’ reading enjoyment, the Empire High Council has authorized the release of a new journal focusing on astrology knowledge dissemination...

Looking at the sharp, clear letters, an idea suddenly strikes Ge Lin as he quickly lays out the newspapers on the table, rapidly skimming through their primary pages and bold titles. A myriad of articles seem distinct, but their actual content maintains a high level of consistency in their academic, entertainingly educational, or discussion-oriented nature, entering his view.

The Tower Guardian looks at these newspapers, smiles, and with experience, judges—looks like the Supreme Administration Office has some ”major plan,” and these newspapers should be just the first step of preparation. Soon, Magic Web broadcasts might introduce related new programs, right?

Ordinary people might find it hard to feel this ”wind direction” from the limited media they touch daily, but a Tower Guardian stationed at a regional information hub can very sensitively perceive certain signals releasing in advance. Of course, that premise requires sufficient work experience; Ge Lin himself is quite an experienced Tower Guardian, whereas young Ron... clearly hasn’t thought that far.

”Mr. Ge Lin,” Ron notices his senior’s sudden move, and slightly startled, couldn’t help but ask, ”Has something happened?”

”It’s nothing, it’s not a bad thing anyway. You’ll understand after working here for a couple of years,” Green laughed, casually saying while casting his gaze back on the marked page of the newspaper. It was then that he realized this page was not an academic or knowledge dissemination article, but a special news piece and a folk recruitment announcement.

”Soren Listening Station Receives Unknown Mysterious Signal” and ”Nationwide Call for Solutions to the Following Symbol Decryption.”

He saw the patterns attached to the article, which looked nothing like common alphabets nor like southern hieroglyph symbols. The series of arcs and the short lines connected to them appeared mysterious and hard to decipher, and beside the symbols, Ron had already drawn many seemingly pointless strings of letters with a pen.

”Don’t tell me you’re planning to decrypt these symbols—the ones that even expert scholars are baffled by.” Green couldn’t help lifting his head to glance at the young Ron.

”Why not?” the young blond replied immediately, ”Don’t you think it’s a very challenging and prideful task, as if participating in history? Plus, there’s a high reward—if we unravel their meaning, the bounty is even enough for us to buy a whole estate in Lu An City!”

Green was not influenced by the young man’s immature joy and enthusiasm; he just worriedly looked at the reports and symbols that bore no resemblance to any known writings in this world. Anxiety arose in his heart, but it was quickly suppressed, turning into a query: ”After studying so much, did you discern any patterns?”

”Not at all—they appear almost like encrypted graffiti, far from being cracked through simple letter substitution or structural rearrangement,” Ron shook his head with some regret. ”In fact, I’ve decided to treat this as something of a diversion after work... getting rich overnight may not be so easy to achieve, but the process of decrypting these symbols is somewhat entertaining. And I believe most people who take interest in these symbols will ultimately have a similar mindset as mine, as you said, these things have left imperial capital’s expert scholars stumped...”

Green shrugged, not continuing the topic any further. He glanced at the mechanical clock hanging on the nearby wall and casually said to Ron, ”Shift change time has arrived.”

...

Rare sunny skies descended upon Aldernon, and the approaching noon sunlight dispelled the overcast clouds frequently hanging over this ”city of rain and mist.” Under the brilliant sunlight, the rows of black rooftops and spires glimmered vibrantly, and even the moldy stones and walls in some gloomy alleys seemed to have their stagnant air slowly lifted, becoming lively.

However, compared to last year, the streets and alleys of Aldernon’s noble estates appeared significantly quieter.

Halls that once hosted day and night banquets had their doors and windows tightly shut, and the broad roads that were once bustling with carriages had only a few hurried vehicles speeding past those tightly closed doors. Some gardens in front and behind residences were evidently neglected for days, with weeds sprouting due to warmer weather gradually taking over the carefully tended flowerbeds, squeezing the precious and fragile blossoms from their living spaces. Moreover, some homes had hung heavy white and black curtains and drapes, with dried bundles of Death Chrysanthemum flowers hung beneath the iron lantern by the door, swaying forlornly in the wind.

Most of these residences hadn’t been completely abandoned. A few subdued voices still emanated faintly from within, as if those who still lived there were deliberately lowering their voices to minimize their presence in this world, akin to frightened beasts huddling within their ornate dens, fearing that high-profile behavior might draw certain ”deadly attention.”

And in those few residences that had lost all sound, the once-great families had lost their last effective heirs. Servants were dismissed, assets were absorbed by the royal family, and the houses became temporarily unhandled ”assets pending assessment.” When the owners of these homes departed from this world, they usually met vastly different fates: some lost all honor and were beheaded during the reckoning, while others were buried in glory following royal posthumous honors.

But regardless of their fate, the ultimate result was much the same.

”The aristocratic era is virtually dead; after years of a drawn-out stalemate, it’s finally time to completely withdraw... some titles remain, but it seems they’ll never have the opportunity for glory again,” Viscount Hemir stepped back from the bay window, retracting his gaze from the street outside. He returned to his favorite high-backed chair but didn’t sit down immediately. Instead, he let out a sigh filled with emotion. ”Ah... I truly never imagined that I would witness this day in my lifetime, nor did I imagine that it would come about in this manner...”

He lifted his head, again looking across the wide, straight avenue. All he saw were two hurried servants passing by the street—walking almost at a run as if frightened.

”How quiet it’s been compared to the old days! Even when the New Emperor’s Twenty-Two Decrees were issued, or the day my father mentioned that a fire broke out in the Obsidian Palace... the street was never so desolate, and there were never so many Death Chrysanthemums... those white flowers are almost drawing the breath of the underworld into the sunlight.”

”Look on the bright side, Viscount Hemir,” an elderly voice spoke from nearby. The elderly mage in black robes sitting on the sofa looked at the young noble, smiling slightly, ”You’re still standing here. The title of Viscount remains with you, and your family crest and personal assets are intact. Each of those is worth envying—whether by those who have died or those still living, they should envy you.

”You backed the right team, Viscount Sir.”

”Ah, indeed that’s true, as you say, Master Daniel,” Viscount Hemir smiled bitterly as he sat in the chair. He casually grabbed the wine glass from nearby and poured the liquid down his throat, somewhat ungracefully, before continuing, ”Supporting the royal family’s decisions unconditionally at all times, severing all connections with clergy when issues arise at the church, supporting Bitter Winter Castle’s frontlines to the greatest extent possible, and cooperating with His Highness Hadrian’s investigations—frankly, making any wrong step among these could have meant I might not be conversing with you here now, and you might only raise a glass to my memory before my tombstone.”

”But you chose correctly,” Daniel smiled and raised a glass towards the Viscount before him, ”I still prefer to toast the living a bit more.”