Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 319 - 318: Homecoming

The three carriages bearing the insignia of the Cecil Clan traveled through the streets of the royal capital. In the leading carriage, Witch Giply opened the shutters on the window, gazing at the city with a hint of curiosity, yet maintaining caution.

She was born and raised in the impoverished and backward southern borders, and until she met "Big Sister" Amber, her whole world consisted of the dark, filthy corners of the town’s gutters, dilapidated alleys of the poor, and foul-smelling piles of garbage. But like most Anzu people, she had the chance to hear stories related to this great capital—from passing bards, boastful adventurers, and wary, cunning merchants—and she sketched her imagined image of the city. She envisioned towering city walls, opulent churches, impressive noble mansions, and the King’s residence, the "Silver Castle," covered in silver foil.

During those days of blending in as a swindler and witch in the gutters and alleys, she knew her status and abilities made it impossible to visit the royal capital—not to mention a visit there, even stepping into a larger city could lead to her capture and flogging by the leader. But fate is sometimes peculiar—that’s a phrase she often used while wearing a hood and fortune-telling deck to deceive adventurers, but now she wanted to tell herself—as fate arranged, she became a respectable person, one loyal to a great aristocrat, and the royal capital, which used to exist only in her imagination, was now before her eyes.

It was indeed as the bards and adventurers had described, majestic and magnificent.

But it also showed signs of age and filth everywhere.

Giply frowned, seeing the streets of the royal capital lined with filth, and even within the towering city walls were rundown alleys for the poor. On this journey, she still saw ragged commoners and "commoners" chased away by soldiers, and she felt her beautiful imagination of the capital crumbling bit by bit.

It was indeed a majestic ancient capital, worthy of being the leading city of Anzu in terms of depth and scale, but Giply realized she preferred the clean and orderly streets of the Cecil territory and the well-organized townships there, and she liked its vibrant populace and law-abiding officials more.

But she remembered the mission she received before departure, so all her emotions were well-hidden. She maintained a graceful and fitting smile, lowered the shutters of the carriage, and turned to the young Arcanist sitting opposite her: "Mr. Santis, are we heading directly to the Duke’s residence?"

Santis was somewhat restless and, after pausing hesitantly, he spoke up: "I think... I’d like to visit home first."

He quickly added, "Of course, the Duke’s mission is more important. If you feel it’s inappropriate, we’ll head to 4 Crown Street first..."

"No need to be so restrained, Mr. Santis," Witch Giply smiled gently, like a true Mage apprentice from a minor noble or wealthy merchant family, "As per the Duke’s command, you are the leader of this mission. Pierce and I will provide necessary advice and support. You only need to act according to the plan you find reasonable."

"Alright... alright," Santis nodded, unused to the dynamics, and shifted his gaze, avoiding eye contact with the enchanting witch sitting across from him, who had long flaxen hair and wore a black gown, "Then let’s... head to Cross Street first. Oh, the other two carriages can go directly to 4 Crown Street; there’s no need to come along—the streets at Cross Street are very narrow."

The tall, lean man beside him chimed in: "Mr. Santis, if our carriage can enter Cross Street, then the other two certainly can as well. I suggest having the accompanying carriages follow — you should be as ostentatious as possible when returning home; it’s a matter of posture."

Santis paused, then nodded: "Ah, alright, Mr. Pierce."

Quick Leg Pierce, serving as escort, knocked on the front panel of the carriage and called out to the driver outside: "Cross Street!"

The three carriages turned at the intersection, heading towards the commoners’ area of the royal capital.

Santis felt his heart "float" during this ride, caught by a feeling of rootlessness. He took a few deep breaths, causing the cold air mixed with a strong scent of an overwhelming foul odor to invade his nostrils: the carriage was passing through Sturgeon Street, where the fishy smell overwhelmed even the odor of refuse in the corners.

Even in winter, that rotten stench lingered, having seeped into every brick of the street, making one nauseous.

Unable to resist, he opened the window shutters to gaze out at the street view.

The familiar street scene greeted his eyes.

The low, chaotic, crowded dwellings clustered like layers of moss beneath the city walls. Due to the cold weather, only a few sparse vendors were on the streets, with even fewer pedestrians. The rare faces he saw were suffused with numbness, those apathetic people staggering through the streets like walking corpses. It seemed the winter chill and nutritionally deficient diet erased all traces of emotional expression. Yet, there was a moment when they suddenly "came alive" — when carriages bearing noble insignia passed by, these numb commoners almost instantly prostrated on the ground, with their foreheads touching the surface tightly, their reactions as quick as if it were an instinct they were born with.

Santis slightly furrowed his brow, and at this point, the carriage had already passed the short Sturgeon Street and entered the somewhat better Cross Street district.

Cross Street housed the middle-class "citizens"; those with some status and wealth lived there. Compared to Sturgeon Street, belonging to the commoner’s area, the houses here were visibly taller, and the people walking the streets appeared more spirited.

When encountering noble carriages, they didn’t have to immediately prostrate, but they must quickly move to the roadside and bow at a height definitely lower than the carriage window—commoners must do so to prevent their dirty gazes from looking at the aristocrats who might lean out for a view.

Only in the higher, baptized wealthy city districts populated by those who had received blessings from the church, those "respectable people" were exempt from doing so; they only needed to stand by the roadside and bow respectfully.

In the royal capital, the rules were undoubtedly more than those in the wild borderlands.

Born in Cross Street and elevated to a Grade-2 Arcanist, Santis was the "most promising child" of this district. His Mage rank was the highest achievement the inhabitants here could reach. Previously, even when Santis was struggling and marginalized at the Mage’s Guild, he returned to the district with pride. But now, seeing those neighbors bowing deeply along the street sides, he felt only waves of frustration.

This place remains unchanged, just like when he left.

Last year’s Cross Street was like this, a decade ago it was still like this, even a hundred years ago it was unchanged!

Yet in Cecil, a year is enough to raise a city, enough to teach illiterate children to write their own and their parents’ names, enough to push back monsters from the Gondor wasteland twice!

Santis thought irritably, and then suddenly noticed a little girl staring at this side from the corner of the street.

The little girl wore a clean but old dress, which had only a single patch. She had two neat ponytails, her cheeks were red from the cold wind, and she held a bulging cloth bag in her hands.

It seemed she had just come out from a corner of the street, so she hadn’t had time to bow and salute to the aristocratic carriages, looking over here somewhat blankly.

Santis was startled for a moment, then he called out, "Pepe!"

However, before he could finish speaking, the little girl suddenly ran away, as if she hadn’t heard his words.

"Who is that?" Giply sitting across from him asked curiously.

"My sister," Santis said, his tone a bit odd, "Why is she running?"

The little girl quickly ran across the street to a house that looked a bit newer than the surrounding buildings, hastily pushed the door open and dashed inside, where a middle-aged woman wearing an old cotton coat and apron was grinding herbs in the center of the room. Hearing the noise, she looked up in surprise at her youngest daughter: "Pepe? Why are you back so soon? Have you handed the herbs to Mr. Wein?"

Then she saw the cloth bag in the little girl’s hands, her brows furrowed, but before she could start reprimanding her, the little girl started stammering nervously, "Mom...Mom! Outside, three huge carriages just arrived! They’re aristocratic! They have emblems...emblems just like the ones brother drew on his letter!"

The middle-aged woman froze for a moment, then suddenly her hand shook, and the wooden pestle used for grinding herbs fell to the ground.

She didn’t bother to pick it up, quickly stood up, and stared into her daughter’s eyes: "Did you see clearly? Is it really that emblem? The sword and plow emblems?"

The little girl nervously clutched the cloth bag in her hand, "I saw it clearly..."

"That’s the Cecil Clan’s emblem... sent by the Duke Cecil... did you see anything else on the carriage? Were there Death Chrysanthemum pinned on the driver’s hats or clothes? Were there strips with white petals hanging on the horses?"

The little girl seemed scared by her mother, nervously unable to speak, while the door leading to the inner room opened at that moment, and the master of the house walked out upon hearing the commotion: "What’s going on? I heard it was noisy outside."

"Dear, the Duke Cecil’s men came with three carriages..." the mistress of the house twisted her hands anxiously, "Will Santis be in trouble? I warned him before that the Dark Mountain Range is a dangerous place, told him to be very careful, yet he’s always saying in his letters..."

"Calm down," the middle-aged man said, "Santis is just a Grade-2 Arcanist, the duke wouldn’t send three carriages to notify..."

Just then, a series of knocks on the door suddenly sounded.

The man and the woman almost instantly stood tense, their breaths halted for a moment as they stared intensely at the door of their home, while the little girl standing closest to the door almost jumped.

The knocking continued, the little girl stood dazed for a moment, then instinctively walked towards the door.

"Wait a moment, I’ll open it."

The middle-aged man said, walking past his wife and daughter to the door.

He opened the door, the cold wind hitting his face, and there stood a tall and lean figure.

The little girl standing behind her father cried out in joy, "It’s brother!"