Early in the morning, the tower keeper, Greem, was awakened by the low hum of a mechanical device. Sunlight shone into the room through the crystal glass window on the side of the tower lounge. The decorative iron lace on the window frame cast a pattern of light and dark on the floor. The clear sky in the distance was cloudless, and the mechanical antenna on the top floor of Louen Hub was rotating at an angle. The rugged alloy skeleton slowly moved past the window, cutting a few ingenious geometric patterns in the sky.
"Not bad, it's a good day. The mages' weather forecast is getting more and more accurate."
The tower keeper squinted at the sky outside and muttered to himself before he heaved a sigh of relief. He then put on a loose, cool shirt, tidied himself up, and left the room. The mechanical turntable and linkage mechanism on the upper floor produced a reassuring sound. He walked through a short corridor and a short flight of stairs to a nearby equipment room. A blond young man in a brown shirt was sitting in front of the magic net terminal, staring at the jumping numbers on the holographic projection. Next to him was a stack of neatly cut newspapers.
The young man's name was Ron. He was Greem's colleague and the other tower keeper of this tower. He had just been transferred here not long ago, but his down-to-earth, diligent, and likable character had left a deep and good impression on the "old staff" of this tower.
"Ah, Mr. Greem." The blond young man in front of the magic net terminal heard movement from the door. He smiled when he saw who it was. "It's not time to change shifts yet. Why are you up so early?"
"A regular routine is good for the body, especially for a middle-aged man like me." Greem smiled and greeted the young man. "Is Vikson not back yet?"
"He just came back, but soon went out again with two technicians. The readings of the secondary hub in Colson Town are a bit abnormal. A nearby factory reported that they have not received the signal from Louen since yesterday. Vikson thinks that the thunderstorm may have damaged the secondary hub. He wants to see it for himself. By the way, he drove the gray magic car away. "
"It seems that the thunderstorm yesterday was more powerful than we thought," Greem said casually. He came to the magic net terminal and saw that the neatly cut newspapers printed by the networked printer had been flipped through. One of the pages was marked with red pen. "Is there anything interesting in the newspaper, Ron?"
"Ah, I was just about to say." The young man named Ron suddenly showed a pleasant and mysterious smile. "Do you remember the 'monitoring project' that Vikson has been very concerned about? It's the project where there is a monitoring station in every hub. It seems that there has been some progress recently. Mysterious signals have been received, and the scholars have spent a lot of time discussing it! There is more than one issue here … "
Greem did not pay much attention to the monitoring project, but his interest was piqued by Ron's excited tone. Before the young man could finish, Greem had picked up the stack of printing paper that still had a faint smell of ink.
The first thing that caught his eye was a very eye-catching bold headline: "Is it possible that there are creatures who can think rationally like us among the vast stars?"
What kind of question is this?
The tower keeper's eyes were instantly attracted by this wonderful title. He had been a nobleman's scribe when he was young, and he had become the tower keeper of the magic net hub when he was middle-aged. He had seen and experienced many things in his life, but he had never heard of such a thing. He had never heard anyone ask such a question. Among the stars … Why would anyone look at what happened among the stars in such a way? And even discuss this matter seriously?
If what the priests said was true … Between the stars, between the stars, shouldn't that be the direction of heaven?
Greem frowned subconsciously and looked down in confusion. He found that almost the entire page of the newspaper was discussing this question, and there was even a more eye-catching, more puzzling and curious title on the follow-up page: "From the cave to the plain, from the foot to the distance — Royal Astrologer Mr. Morgan Hugo brings you to understand the 'breadth' of the world."
Ron's voice came from the side. "These are very interesting. They look like boring academic articles, but they are surprisingly easy to understand. I've never seen such a theory about the starry sky above our heads in any newspaper or magazine. However, I've heard from my teacher that the land under our feet is actually a planet. We revolve around the sun, and the sun revolves around 'Ao'. Every flickering light spot in the universe could be a celestial system similar to this … "
Greem listened to Ron's excited narration, but he could only say a few perfunctory words. The things that the young man paid attention to and accepted were indeed different from a middle-aged man like him. Although Greem had received a complete general education and literacy course, he obviously did not pay as much attention as Ron, who was in his early twenties, when it came to knowledge that sounded 'far away from life', it was naturally very difficult for him to keep up with the topic.
At the same time, Greem's eyes quickly scanned the following irrelevant reports, advertisements, and trivia in the newspaper. A 'Cecil's Weekly' came into his sight, and as expected, he saw a title similar to the previous two articles: 'The Celestial Scale in the Eyes of Master Kamel: Knowledge and Wisdom from the Gondor Age'. In the follow-up of the article, he also saw a promotion, which mentioned that in order to further improve the literacy of the people and enrich the reading enjoyment of the citizens, the Supreme Government of the Empire had authorized the publication of a new periodical, whose main content was the popularization of knowledge in the field of astrology …
Looking at the clear and sharp letters, Greem's heart suddenly skipped a beat. He immediately spread out the newspapers on the table and quickly flipped through their main pages and bold and emphasized headlines. Soon, a large number of articles that looked different but had a very high degree of consistency in their content entered his eyes.
The lighthouse keeper looked at the newspapers and smiled. Based on his experience, he had made a judgment. It seemed that the highest government office had another 'big plan', and these newspapers should only be the first step. Soon, there would probably be new programs on the magic network broadcast.
It was probably difficult for ordinary people to sense the emergence of this' wind direction 'from the limited media they had daily contact with, but a tower keeper in charge of the regional information hub could keenly sense the release of certain signals in advance. Of course, the premise was that the tower keeper had enough work experience. Greem himself was a very experienced tower keeper, but young Ron … Apparently, he did not think so much.
"Mr. Greem." Ron also noticed the sudden movement of his senior. He was a little startled and could not help but ask, "What happened?"
"It's nothing. Anyway, it's not a bad thing. You'll understand if you work here for two more years." Greem smiled and looked at the marked page of the newspaper again. At this time, he noticed that the content of this page was not an academic or knowledge-popularizing article, but a special news and a publicity draft with the nature of 'civilian recruitment'.
'Thorin's Listening Station Receives Mysterious Signal of Unknown Origin', 'Nationwide Call for Analysis of the Following Symbols'.
He saw the patterns attached with the articles, which did not look like common letters at all, nor did they look like the symbols of southern hieroglyphs. The continuous arcs and the short segments connected to the arcs looked mysterious and incomprehensible. Next to the symbols, Ron had sketched a lot of seemingly random letter strings with a pen.
"Don't tell me you're going to decipher these symbols, which even the experts and scholars can't figure out." Greem could not help but look up at young Ron.
"Why not?" The blond young man immediately said. "Don't you think it's very challenging and proud, as if you're participating in history? And there's a high reward. As long as you can decipher their meaning, the reward is even enough for us to buy an entire manor in Louen! "
Gren was not infected by the immature joy and enthusiasm of the young man. He was only a little worried as he looked at the reports and the symbols that did not resemble any of the known languages of this world. Uneasiness rose in his heart, but he quickly suppressed it and turned it into a question. "Then, after studying so much, have you found any patterns?"
"I can't see it at all. These symbols are like some kind of encrypted graffiti. It's far from being deciphered by a simple letter substitution or structural reorganization." Ron shook his head with some regret. "In fact, I'm ready to treat this as a pastime after work. It may not be so easy to get rich overnight, but the process of deciphering these symbols is still somewhat interesting. And I believe that most people who are interested in these symbols will eventually have the same mentality as me. After all, as you said, these things make the experts and scholars in the capital unable to figure out … "
Greem shrugged but did not continue the topic. He glanced at the mechanical clock hanging on the nearby wall and said casually to Ron, "It's time to change shifts."
…
The rare clear sky fell in Oldenheim. The sun of near noon dispelled the haze that often lingered over the 'City of Rain and Fog.' Under the brilliant sun, the rows of black roofs and spires glowed brilliantly. Some of the moldy slates and walls in the dark alleys seemed to be getting rid of their lethargy little by little, becoming full of vitality.
However, compared to last year, the streets of Oldenheim's noble district were significantly more deserted at this moment.
The doors and windows of the hall, which used to be filled with banquets day and night, were tightly shut. Only a few hurried cars were driving past the tightly shut doors on the wide road that used to be filled with carriages every day. Some of the gardens in front of the houses had clearly been neglected for many days. The weeds that grew because of the warm weather were gradually occupying the flower beds and nurseries that were once carefully tended to, squeezing out the living space of the precious and delicate flowers. Some of the houses were hung with heavy white and black curtains and cloth. Dried bouquets of Death Heralds were hanging under the iron hanging lamps at the door, swaying miserably in the wind.
Most of these houses were not completely deserted. At this time, there were still sporadic low voices coming from inside. The voices that still lived here seemed to be deliberately suppressing themselves to reduce their sense of existence in this world as much as possible. Like frightened beasts afraid of the world, they curled up into a ball in their gorgeous lair, afraid that they would attract some 'fatal attention' because of their high profile.
And in the few houses that had completely lost their sound, the formerly glorious families had lost their last effective heir. The servants were dismissed, the property was taken back by the royal family, and the houses became 'assets' that could not be dealt with for the time being. The owners of these houses usually had two different fates when they left this world. Some lost all respect and lost their heads in the liquidation, while some were glorious and buried in the ground with the royal family's posthumous title.
But no matter what their fates were, the end result was the same.
"The era of the aristocracy exists in name only. After so many years of stalemate, it is finally time to completely withdraw … Some titles still exist, but it seems that they will never have the chance to be glorious again." Viscount Hermil took a step back from the oriel window, and at the same time, he retracted his gaze from the street outside. He returned to his favorite high-back chair, but he did not sit down immediately. He just let out a long sigh with his eyes full of emotion. "Sigh … I really never thought that I would see this day in my life, let alone that it would come in such a way …"
He raised his head and looked at the other side of the wide and straight street. He saw two servants hurrying across the street like frightened beasts. They walked as if they were running.
"Has there ever been such a desolate scene in the past? Even on the day the new Emperor's Twenty-two Laws were promulgated, or even the day my father mentioned when the Obsidian Palace was set ablaze … This street has never been so desolate, and there have never been so many Death Heralding Chrysanthemums. Those white flowers have almost attracted the breath of the underworld to the sun. "
"Look on the bright side, Viscount Hermil." An old voice came from not far away. The black-robed mage sitting on the sofa looked at the young noble with a smile on his face. "You're still standing here, and you still have the title of viscount. Your family emblem and private property are not damaged at all. Every one of these is enough to make many people envious. No matter those who are dead or still alive, they should envy you.
"You have chosen a good side, Mr. Viscount."
"Ah, yes, it is as you said, Master Daniel." Viscount Hermil sat on the chair with a wry smile. He took a wine glass from the side and poured the liquid down his throat ungracefully. "I will support the royal family's decision unconditionally at all times. When there is a problem with the church, I will immediately cut off all contact with the clergy, do my best to support the front line of Winter Fort, and actively cooperate with all the investigations of His Highness Hadilon. Frankly speaking, if there is one wrong step, I may not be able to stand here and talk to you at this moment, and you may only be able to toast me in front of my tombstone."
"But you have done the right thing." Daniel smiled and raised his glass to the viscount in front of him. "I still prefer to toast the living."
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