Chapter Forty-Eight: Promotion

After leaving the matter of the two-headed dragon beast’s appearance in the Droni Mountains to his father, Baron Mori, to worry about, Carlos devoted himself wholeheartedly to the study of alchemy.

Having accumulated a solid foundation in basic alchemy, Carlos had brought his elementary potion-making, basic crafting, and the use of alchemist’s stones to the level of a novice alchemist. The diagrams depicted in “An Introduction to Alchemical Geometry” no longer seemed so obscure. Carlos learned how to break down the complex arrays into countless smaller patterns, gaining his first insight into the true essence of alchemy.

While observing Dubois as he crafted high-level alchemical items, Carlos often saw the old man unleash a variety of alchemical arrays throughout the process. Carlos always tried to find every geometric figure hidden within these patterns, to distinguish those strange and intricate symbols, and to sense the current of energy flowing within the arrays.

An indescribable feeling began to emerge in Carlos’s heart—a sense of space itself. The old man Dubois explained, “These are the laws at work. You’re beginning to sense the laws of space. This is a good start—continue, and it will greatly benefit your study of alchemical arrays.”

Alchemical arrays were different from magical arrays, which used elemental totem symbols for magical diagrams. The former were drawn with materials that conducted magic power, infused during their creation with a small amount of magical energy. This energy would then circulate within the array along a specific path, resonating with the free magical power in the environment, attracting more energy, and thereby amplifying the caster’s own strength.

Magic arrays served as auxiliary tools for magicians, but alchemical arrays were the very soul of an alchemist.

These arrays comprised three main components: the primal matter, the ethereal substance, and space itself. Most advanced alchemical creations required the use of an alchemical array to form the end product. This was because the arrays often contained insights into the laws of space—without them, alchemy could never be complete.

After all, no one could conjure material from nothing. But space could. Within the boundless reaches of space, by sacrificing certain materials through the array, it was possible to obtain equivalent substances in exchange.

Of course, this was only in theory. The outcome of alchemy depended on whether the process was feasible, if the array was suitable, and whether one’s comprehension of space was sufficient.

“This all sounds very complicated,” Carlos said, staring at Dubois.

The old man, his body trembling, finished drawing a circular array with intersecting mountain-like angles before him—this was the first alchemical array Carlos was to learn.

“Everything sounds complicated the first time you hear it,” Dubois replied. “You need to explore and practice it for yourself.”

Carlos found this advice reasonable and, following this approach, dedicated himself to rigorous practice. Time flew by as he immersed himself in study, and the brief spring at the northwestern frontier soon faded away.

In July of the 203rd year of the Age of Radiance, Saltwell Town welcomed a fully armed detachment of the Order of Radiant Knights.

This was the first time Carlos began to pay close attention to the days of the Radiant Calendar, for in the 203 years since the founding of the Radiant Empire, it now faced the gravest defeat in an external war.

The battle between West Cyprus and the Black Iron tribes had barely begun before it ended abruptly. The hawkish forces on the front lines rashly ignited the conflict, only to find themselves encircled by the Black Iron Dwarves; the entire administrative district of West Cyprus was declared lost.

The snowflake banner fluttered on the wind, escorted by the knights as they rode into Saltwell Town, the grand procession making its way toward the Stevenson baronial estate.

That night, the Stevenson family hosted a banquet to welcome envoys from the central provinces. Even Augusta the Steam Guardian had received an invitation.

During dinner, Baron Mori’s old friend, the imperial parliament’s administrative officer Clay, listened appreciatively as the musician plucked the strings of his lyre, playing a piece titled “Northern Realm.”

“As the sun sets, we can still see the snow country of the north…”

Clay wore a crimson robe, a white-robed priest of the Church of Radiance seated beside him. Baron Mori sat quietly at the head of the table, his hand resting on his wine glass. He tapped the table and asked, “Is it truly this serious?”

“When I departed, the Northern Feather Legion was still moving to cut off the Loa Highway,” Clay replied, lowering his voice. “Don’t worry, the war won’t reach the Eastern Administrative District too quickly. Baron Mori, the king intends to restore your ducal title and dispatch several legions here to fortify the borders. You still have time to prepare.”

The Loa Highway was the only passage between East and West Cyprus. It cut through the middle of the towering Cyprian Mountains, the sole great road hewn through their heights—a hundred years after its construction, it had once again become a strategic front line for the Radiant Empire.

Losing West Cyprus meant the empire’s ambitions to the north and west were dashed. Should East Cyprus fall as well, the northwest would be left utterly exposed.

“And we’re to rely on a few mercenary bands? Such favoritism is little comfort.” Having drunk a bit more than usual at the prospect of regaining his ducal rank, Mori slurred his words, “Besides, the Blackstone Fortress on the Loa Highway has long been abandoned. Without rebuilding it, there’s no way to withstand the dwarves’ counterattack. The twenty thousand troops mustered in the north wouldn’t last two months against them. And you expect me to hold the line with a handful of ill-equipped mercenaries?”

“In West Cyprus, our legions fell into a trap—that’s why the defeat was so swift. And those mercenary bands are the last of the north’s fighting strength,” the priest of Radiance interjected suddenly from beside Clay.

At this, Mori accidentally stepped on the priest’s foot and quickly apologized. “Oh, sorry… It wasn’t intentional. Tell me, then, how many squads of Radiant Knights has your Church sent to witness the might of the Black Iron Dwarves’ gunpowder?”

“If you require it, my squad and I will defend Blackstone Fortress until its reconstruction is complete!” the priest retorted, angrily withdrawing his foot.

Mori considered for a moment.

“There’s one more thing. If you agree, I’ll take on the defense of East Cyprus as a Pioneer in the King’s name.”

“What is it?” Clay asked.

“I intend to petition the king for the lordship of Swordmaster’s Bay. Grant me Swordmaster’s Bay as my fief. Lately, I keep dreaming of my old seafaring days, and it’s a bad omen. Without Swordmaster’s Bay, I’m too uneasy to do anything,” Duke Mori declared.

Clay was taken aback. Swordmaster’s Bay, separated from East Cyprus by the Xiling Strait, belonged to Duke Lionheart’s domain.

Clay gave Mori a questioning look. “Do you hold some grudge against Duke Lionheart?”

Mori Stevenson turned his head to glance at Augusta the Steam Guardian, who had sat in silence all the while. From this angle, one could glimpse the occasional gleam in the giant’s eyes.

The port at Swordmaster’s Bay provided direct access to the central provinces and the ports of the Eastern Kingdoms. If East Cyprus became the front line, a stable supply route by sea would be essential for the war effort.

Moreover, that had once been Augusta’s homeland. Mori intended to keep Augusta close; the Steam Guardians formed a unique force, and Augusta was the only one Mori knew personally. By leveraging his connection, perhaps more Steam Guardians could be drawn to East Cyprus—if he could assemble a legion of them, the strength of the front lines would rise to an entirely new level.