Chapter 772: The Arrival of the Relics
By that afternoon, with the help of a Sigil of Listening, Roland had received everything—the outcome of the final holy duel, the entire scene at the Land of Fire, Echo’s speech, the cheers that followed.
He summoned Maggie, Lightning, and Nana to his office at once.
“There is a severely wounded witch in the Iron Sand City who needs treatment.” Roland looked at the three of them—two girls and one who had technically achieved legal adulthood, though it hardly showed—and said, “Prepare tonight and leave tomorrow. No haste required, as long as you reach Fallen Dragon Ridge by tomorrow evening and Iron Sand City the following day. Ashes will meet you there.”
“Do both of us need to go?” Lightning asked, meaning herself and Maggie.
“Yes. I feel better knowing you’re together.” Roland nodded. “Besides, Maggie needs someone to help tie Nana onto her back—doesn’t she? Wear extra layers. Flying in winter is brutal.”
Nana glanced out the window at the falling snow and shivered.
“Understood! She will be delivered on time!” Maggie raised her hand with the air of someone accepting an important commission.
“Flying there is fine,” Lightning said, her lower lip pushed out, “but if you start the snow mountain expedition before I’m back, I’ll cry.”
“The moment a great explorer weeps—that would be worth recording.” Seeing Lightning’s expression shift from pout to something dangerously close to genuine feeling, Roland laughed. He knew she had been watching for the snow mountain announcement ever since the first rumors circulated. “You have my word. Every one of you is essential to the expedition.”
“Settled, then.” Lightning patted her chest. “Leave the wounded sister to us.”
“Tend to any Sand Nation civilians along the way if you can,” Roland added. “But don’t linger. Return the day Nana’s magic is exhausted and take the same route back. Understood?”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
“Alright.”
“Coo!”
All three at once.
After they left, Roland leaned back in his chair and released a long breath.
Nightingale’s head appeared from the Mist at his shoulder. “Does this mean you’ve taken the Southernmost Region?”
“We’ve taken the first step.” He smiled. “There are many more to go.”
Over a month of effort, and the Desert Mission had reached a pause. The real challenge—migration—was still ahead.
He pulled the map from the corner of his desk and spread it over the surface. His gaze settled on the southern territory of Graycastle. Before Iron Axe had departed, Roland had already outlined the plan: offer the Sand Nation clans a new oasis, relocate them to the border regions that had been stripped of their lords and most of their people by Timothy and Garcia’s civil wars. The Port of Clearwater, Eagle City, the surrounding farmland—all of it had been ground to rubble and left to go fallow. Refugees flooding into Neverwinter had drained the south until it was nearly empty. Rather than let that land rot, Roland intended to let the Sand Nation reclaim it. They would start at the junctions between desert and green land and rebuild outward from there.
It served multiple purposes at once. Workers exploiting the Blackwater deposits could launch from Port of Clearwater by sea and reach the southern edge of the desert far more safely than by any land route. Iron Axe had reported that most of the underground Styx tributaries lay in the deep south, beneath the Endless Cape, running close to the surface and near the coastline. Compared to the overland crossing, a coastal approach was straightforward with Neverwinter’s current technology. The location practically chose itself.
It would take time. The clans who had heard Echo’s words might not break camp and march north immediately. But the pull of an oasis was not something the Sand Nation could resist indefinitely. Even if only a handful of clans moved in the first season, more would follow once the early arrivals proved the promise wasn’t hollow. Eventually, it would become its own momentum.
In one move: a labor force gained, wasted land revived, roving bandits discouraged, and the newcomers given a home—without requiring Roland to post a large garrison in the desert itself. The subjects who wanted to settle in the southern territory would populate it; the land would fill itself.
Hidden dangers remained, of course. Merging his existing people with the Ironsand clans of the Mojin would take patience and care.
Roland was not especially worried. The religions of this world demanded far less than he had expected—less creed, more instinct, closer to pure nature worship than to the Church’s suffocating doctrine. Both peoples shared a language. The Sand Nation’s customs were less a distinct culture than an adaptation to the desert; strip the desert away and, as Iron Axe and Echo had already demonstrated, they fitted into Neverwinter’s rhythms without great difficulty. Strict laws, fair enforcement, clear rewards—these were the tools that mattered.
And if there was a rebellion, the First Army garrisoned in the southern territory and at Fallen Dragon Ridge was not there for decoration.
The more pressing question was the hybrid demonic beast that had attacked the witches. If Roland recalled correctly, the desertification of the Southernmost Region had the shape of a slow accident rather than intent. Geographically, that spike of land was not far from Graycastle—too close for such rapid change to be natural. He had no spare hands to send south and investigate; it would have to wait.
But the creature’s behavior nagged at him. The demonic beasts that besieged human cities moved under the influence of the relics of gods—that much was established. Yet the Four-winged Eagle had attacked the witches independently, without the usual siege pattern. The hybrid had acted on its own, and with something resembling a motive.
What drove it toward them?
He was still turning the question over when the knock came.
Wendy and Phyllis stepped through the door together. “Your Majesty, the last shipment from Taquila will arrive at the Third Border City soon. Pasha has invited you to meet her underground.”
Roland came to his feet.
“The Instrument of Divine Retribution,” he said. “And the relics.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. The First Army provided the escort.”
“Any movement from the demonic beasts?”
“No sign of a large gathering.”
“Then let’s go.” He was already reaching for his coat.
Chapter 772: The Arrival of the Relics
Translator: Transn Editor: Meh
With the help of a Sigil of Listening, Roland received the result for the last holy duel, including everything that happened in the Land of Fire, by that afternoon.
Instantly he summoned Maggie, Lightning, and Nana to his office.
“There is a severely wounded witch in the Iron Sand City who needs your treatment.” Roland looked at the three energetic girls—no, two girls and one legal girl, and said, “Prepare tonight and leave tomorrow. No need for haste as long as you arrive at Fallen Dragon Ridge by tomorrow evening and reach Iron Sand City the following day. Ashes will be there to receive you.”
“Do both of us need to go?” Lightning asked, indicating Maggie and herself.
“Yes. I feel better when you’re together,” Roland said, nodding. “Besides, Maggie needs to be assisted when tying Nana onto her back, doesn’t she? Remember to wear more clothing, it’s hard to fly in freezing weather.”
Nana couldn’t help but shiver when she looked out the window at the falling snow.
“Understood. I promise, she will be delivered on time!” Maggie said as she raised her hand.
“Flying there is not a problem…” Lightning pouted, “but, if you want to start exploring the snow mountain, please wait until I come back! Missing it would have me in tears.”
“Um… the moment when a great explorer cries… that’s definitely a scene worth recording.” Noticing the serious expression on Lightning’s face, Roland couldn’t help but laugh. He knew that since the news about the possibility of a relic on the snow mountain had spread, Lightning had been looking forward to it. “Of course, you’re all crucial members of the expedition. I can assure you of that.”
“That’s settled then.” Lightning patted her chest in relief as she said, “You can counting on us, we’ll cure the wounded sister.”
“You can also tend to other Sand Nation civilians along the way. But, don’t stay for too long.” Roland kept on going, “You should return on the day Nana has exhausted her magic power and take the same route when you return. Understand?”
With the relocation of Taquila survivors drawing to an end, he should start an expedition to the snow mountain. However, without Nana staying in Neverwinter, he did not dare to hastily send the witches to that unknown land.
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
“Alright.”
“Coo!”
The three of them answered simultaneously.
After they had left, Roland leaned on his chair and let out a sigh of relief.
Nightingale stuck her head out from behind Roland as she asked,”Does this mean that you’ve successfully taken over the Southernmost Region?”
“I’d say we’ve only taken the first step,” Roland said, smiling. “There are still many things to do.”
After over a month of fighting, the Desert Mission had come to a temporary truce.
Unfortunately, the following migration was going to be the challenging task.
Roland fetched the map from the corner of his desk and laid it out. His sight landed on the southern territory of Graycastle. He had conveyed his plan to offer the Sand Nation civilians a new oasis before Iron Axe had departed. The preferred location would be the border area that had lost a lord and most of its populace. It had been successively struck by civil wars, that had been started by Timothy and Garcia. The main cities like the Port of Clearwater and Eagle City had been turned into ruins. The surrounding small towns and farmland had also been destroyed..
With the refugees flowing into Neverwinter, the southern territory became a desolate wasteland. Rather than leaving them to ruin, Roland decided to let the Sand Nation reclaim them. They could start at the junctions, between the desert and green land, and gradually rebuild the Port of Clearwater.
By doing this, workers who were exploiting Blackwater could start off at the Port of Clearwater, and reach the southern point of the desert by sea. According to Iron Axe’s report, most of the underground Styx’s Rivers lay to the south of the Land of Fire, mostly under the Endless Cape. In that area, Blackwater tributaries flowed close to the ground and near the coastline. When compared to the danger-ridden land route, traveling along the coastline was much safer apparently. Given the present technology level of Neverwinter, the coastline was undoubtedly the preferred exploitation location.
It would take some time for these events to take effect in the Southernmost Region. Clans that heard the news might not leave for the Southern Territory immediately. Regardless, the temptation of an oasis would be irresistible to the Sand Nation civilians. Even if only a few clans move there in the beginning, eventually more would follow and ultimately become Roland’s subjects.
Thus, not only would he gain a large labor force and prevent the land from going to waste, but the revived residence would also stop the roving bandits that traveled inland. This made it so Roland didn’t need to deploy a large force of manpower to work in the desert and the subjects that wanted to live in the Southern Territory would also find an abode.
Of course, there were hidden dangers as well.
One challenge would be merging his people with the Ironsand people of the Mojin Clan.
Yet, Roland wasn’t overly concerned.
Leaving aside the unawakened democracy, this world’s religions were thought-provoking enough—they didn’t require one to be too religious, but more like a pure nature worship. Both of the nations used the same language; the Sand Nation’s lifestyle and customs were not so much a special culture, but more of an adaption to the desert. Iron Axe and Echo were perfect examples. The two of them had roamed all the way to Border Town, and fit in well without too much difficulty.
As long as his law enforcement was strict and the punishments and rewards were fair, Roland believed that the Ironsand people of the Mojin Clan would also become qualified workers.
Just in case there was a rebellion, the First Army that had been stationed in the Southern Territory and Fallen Dragon Ridge happened to be more than mere ornaments.
The more pressing issue Roland cared about was following up on the hybrid demonic beasts Iron Axe mentioned, that had attacked the witches. If his recollection was accurate, it sounded like an unavoidable accident had caused the desertification of the Southernmost Region. Geographically speaking, this piece of pointy land adjacent to the mainland was not far from Graycastle, which made such an abrupt change happening highly unlikely. Unfortunately, for the moment, he was too short-handed to explore the Southernmost Region, so he would have to ignore this quandary temporarily.
While what the demonic hybrid did was inconceivable—this abnormal lifeform owned a modicum of intelligence. Roland had learned this from his own experience, so, what had driven it to attack the witches despite the risk? If the inland demonic beasts had sieged the human cities under the influence of the relics of gods, then the Four-winged Eagle had obviously attacked witches for some other reason.
While Roland was thinking hard, Wendy and Phyllis knocked on the door before they walked in. “Your Majesty, the last batch of facilities that had been shipped from Taquila will arrive at the Third Border City soon. Pasha invited you to meet her underground.”
“Finally they arrived.” Roland became excited when he heard the news. The so-called Third Border City was actually an underground bunker that had been built under the Impassable Mountain Range. This place functioned similar to a city and essentially served as a secret stronghold. The last batch of facilities was the Instrument of Divine Retribution and the relics of gods. To ensure their safe arrival, the First Army that had been stationed at Neverwinter provided the escort.
“What about the demonic beasts? Any movement?”
“No sign of a massive gathering for the moment.”
“Is that so…” Roland stood up and said, “Let’s get started then.”