Chapter 1000 — Snow

Pei Yi Wendell walked out from the portico and stood in the snowy courtyard, gazing somewhat absently at the lavish, exquisitely appointed garden that nonetheless felt so vast and cold. His attendants and maids stood not far off, yet he felt himself utterly alone here.

A year ago, An Luo had stood here and watched a snowfall with him. More than a decade ago, he had had Bard beside him, and a daughter-in-law not yet taken by illness. Twenty years ago, beneath the swing frame not far off, beside that handsome fountain, his wife—always smiling—had sat. And this year, there was only himself.

A piercing cold wind came, and Pei Yi felt it as though it had run him through, through his arms and knees. At last he could bear it no longer and raised a breath-shielding barrier, warding off the wind from the north, scattering the snow that swirled over him and around him, and he could not help a bitter smile in the wind—however fearsome a Wolf General might be, there came a day when he grew old; yet in his youth he had never imagined that his aged self would stand so utterly alone in a snowstorm-swept courtyard.

An Luo, far away in Cecil, should be all right... The people of Cecil would not go so far as to blame a general who had laid down his arms of his own accord. On such a cold winter day, was there anyone keeping her company?

A voice came from beside him, breaking into Pei Yi's thoughts: "My lord, the wind has picked up. You had best go inside and rest."

Pei Yi turned toward the sound and saw the steward who had served him for many years standing in the snow, a good deal of it already gathered on his shoulders, yet still standing straight in the wind, meticulous as a statue.

The time for sentiment was over. Pei Yi's expression turned grave once more; he became once again that fearsome knight-lord, nodded with full dignity, and turned toward the portico. The steward, half a step behind, lifted his leg and followed precisely, while unobtrusively brushing the snow from his shoulders.

"You sent a servant to the market this morning," Pei Yi remarked casually beneath the portico. "How is the order there?"

"Prices have stabilized, and the panic has eased a great deal," the steward answered at once. "People are still somewhat tense, but it is no longer that bewildered, helpless fear—mostly they are just worried whether food prices will rise again, and anxious about when this war will be decided."

"Are many people discussing the church?"

"There is discussion everywhere, but one seldom sees anyone now questioning the Guardian Knights or the Obsidian Guard, or fervently supporting the church—at least not in public," the steward continued. "Those public rites for purging evil spirits, along with the detailed reports and on-site images of the contaminated altars and chambers within the churches, have had a powerful deterrent effect on ordinary people. Even devout believers now say that evil spirits defiled the churches, rather than insisting that the God of War's church is immaculate..."

Pei Yi nodded slightly, and the sternness on his face seemed to ease a little.

The mood in the city was improving—though certain among the nobles now sat and stood in perpetual unease, certain speculators trembled with anxiety, and a note of tension had entered high society, the overall order of Aldernan had stabilized swiftly and as if by miracle, and the workings of every key department were visibly improving.

The supply of grain, medicine, and other critical goods had stabilized; several premeditated attempts to drive up prices and withhold supplies had been firmly suppressed. Some priests of the God of War had tried armed resistance against the blockade order, but before they could act, the Obsidian Guard and the Guardian Knights had already crushed and broken up every act of rebellion—in fact, as early as a month ago, the churches of the God of War throughout the nation had been placed under close surveillance by troops loyal to the royal house. Though a portion of the army had unexpectedly slipped from control, on the whole nothing had yet escaped the grasp of the Obsidian Palace.

Some had feared that the temporary closure of the parliament would plunge the empire's whole governing order into a long and intractable chaos, but Luo Yan Augustus, together with the imperial cabinet and the emergency advisory council he led, had proven otherwise to the world with extraordinary efficiency and resolute execution. Now everything was beginning to turn in a better direction.

At least for the present.

The old duke instinctively pressed a hand to his chest, where he touched something hard, the size of a pocket watch—a special talisman, whose power now flowed slowly, suffusing and protecting him. The talisman brought him a measure of reassurance, but it also made him understand that some matters were far from over.

...

Since the war began, intelligence from the front had poured in without cease through the relay towers scattered across the empire, transmitted and gathered to Aldernan, to the desk of Luo Yan Augustus.

The war itself might be something many wished never to see, but certain "spoils" the war brought were quite real—and for the ruler of the empire, the greatest of these was intelligence: intelligence about the enemy, and intelligence about oneself.

Luo Yan's gaze moved slowly across a document, while Matilda stood quietly at his side.

This document contained a wealth of detailed information about the Cecil's "magitek mechanized forces"—the motley array of self-operating war machines, the equipment and fighting methods of Cecil infantry, the enemy's tactical thinking and conjectures about their grand strategic disposition, as well as reports and summaries concerning Typhon's own armies.

Every life on the battlefield had been distilled on these thin pages into experience and reflection—for Cecil and Typhon alike, this was the first time in history that they had faced an opponent so evenly matched and waged such broad and deep confrontation with them on the open field.

Both sides of the war were drawing lessons; Luo Yan looked over the intelligence in his hands and was certain that a similar stack must be sitting on Gao Yang Cecil's desk.

"Your earlier judgment was correct, Matilda," Luo Yan said at last, lifting his gaze to his eldest daughter beside him. "We must go further in bringing magitek into the military sphere. Merely putting soldiers in magitek vehicles or using factories to produce a few weapons is far from enough. The Cecil possess an immense potential for war—though they are locked in stalemate with us now, as time passes their rate of growth will sooner or later surpass ours, and that gap lies partly in magitek, and partly in their... way of thinking."

"An Luo once told me she had always worried that we and the Cecil would sink into a protracted war—their war machines have short production cycles, their soldiers train quickly, and they can afford to lose everything, while our transcendent legions, though far advanced beyond traditional troops, still cannot keep pace with the Cecil in this respect... A long war is greatly to our disadvantage."

"...Time. So we need time," Luo Yan said slowly. "Let us hope we still have enough of it."