Chapter Twenty-One: Surprise and Chaos (Part One)

In a certain room of the Capitol, Wahrenheit watched the two church envoys depart before slowly letting go of the curtains. The room immediately turned dim, and Wahrenheit returned to his desk, where several reports awaited his review.

He picked up the first one. Its title read: “Trial Report on the Third Improvement of the Bronze Cannon.” After reading its contents, the somber expression on his face finally eased a little. All along, these cannons had been unable to move with the army and could only be fixed in fortresses or on city walls. Thus, despite their tremendous power, their use was severely limited. The Constellation Council certainly had its share of talents, but that didn’t mean they could invent anything at will; even the knowledge recalled by the transmigrators was subject to technical constraints, far from being encyclopedic. Moreover, it was best if inventions did not come directly from the transmigrators themselves—such conspicuousness would only make them targets. By the Council’s usual practice, the optimal approach was to inspire the natives through various means, letting them develop the ideas themselves, thereby keeping things discreet. Transforming these cumbersome cannons into portable mortars for army use had always been a conundrum. But this report showed that the issue had now been addressed.

He reached for the second report, which came from the Ministry of Resources. It was sent by an engineer in charge of the western Gaul region’s exploration, and relayed through the Ministry. It announced the discovery of a large magic crystal vein there, extending deep into the Orc-held Ctesibius Mountains. Since they could not enter the territory controlled by the Orcs, further exploration was impossible. Upon reading this, Wahrenheit was first pleased, but then his brows furrowed slightly as his fingers unconsciously tapped the desk. He murmured to himself, “To gain full control of this vein, I’ll first have to deal with that Kamingneson, and then the Orcs.”

Wahrenheit picked up the pen from its stand and quickly scribbled directives on both reports. For the first, he fully agreed with the Ordnance Department’s recommendations: to begin formal production based on the cannon from this trial, and to assign the four cast bronze cannons to the First Army. As for the second report, he could only write, “Continue exploration.”

After penning those words, he felt a pang of regret. If he could choose, he would much prefer to drive out that Kamingneson leader immediately. With him present, Gaul would never be peaceful, and mining would be impossible. But for now, there was no way; the Church and the northern nations had already extended their reach, and even greater powers now threatened Landia.

The door creaked open, and the Secretary of State entered with several sheets of paper. He first reported that the two church envoys had been escorted away, but their carriage was blocked not far from the Capitol by a crowd of demonstrators. At this news, Wahrenheit frowned, though a different thought passed through his mind: the pieces he had laid were finally in motion. He could only hope those ordinary people, covertly influenced and now calling for religious reform, would temporarily draw Childe’s attention, buying him a little more time. Childe was right—everyone needed time.

The Secretary handed him two documents. Wahrenheit took them with some puzzlement, breaking the magical seals.

The first was a foreign affairs communication from the northern intelligence network, reporting that the second prince of the Lot Empire wished to make contact with Wahrenheit. Surprised, Wahrenheit immediately saw this as an opportunity to sow discord among the northern alliance. Still, it seemed unnecessary for now, and if it ever became useful, the price would be steep. He simply approved continued contact.

The next document caught his attention at once, as if a dying man had suddenly been handed a miraculous remedy.

The report was signed by Ismint—a name obscure in the mage world, for people like Ismint were personally selected by Wahrenheit from the war orphans at the very beginning of the **** Tianlun Dynasty. He had written their foundational textbooks himself, and recruited instructors from the Messian Women’s Magic Academy who could guide apprentices into formal magi.

This group of mages was now in their prime, though none were particularly powerful. The most accomplished among them was Ismint, who, though never officially certified by the Mage Tower, was roughly equivalent to a magus. Their strengths did not lie in destructive magic, and their current tasks were not military but theoretical research and magical innovation. All expenses and materials were covered by a special budget line Wahrenheit himself had secured. If they succeeded, even in part, it could change the balance of power, and in the long run, be of inestimable importance.

Now, this report heralded a major breakthrough. Ismint excitedly informed Wahrenheit that the much-anticipated energy conversion array was nearly complete. Its function was to transform the magical power within magic crystals into pure, stable, and controllable energy, which could then serve as motive power for machinery or devices.

Previously, mages had long used magic crystals, mainly to amplify their spells. For example, fire mages would inlay fire crystals into their staves, greatly enhancing their fireballs; magical craftsmen and alchemists would release the energy from crystals to enchant weapons or craft alchemical items with greater power; and in certain magical arrays, crystals would maximize the array’s effect. All these uses, however, had their limits. For instance, a wind magus would find a fire crystal of little value unless they bartered it. Only those magi or archmagi without an elemental prefix could freely exploit any kind of crystal, but even they could not overcome the limitations of elemental affinity—a fire crystal could only enhance fire magic.

But now, after three decades of planning and research initiated by Wahrenheit, this new array could freely utilize magic crystals, at least to convert their power into physical energy. Ismint also stated that he would continue researching how to further convert that energy into other forms of magical power.

Wahrenheit closed the report and instructed his secretary to classify it as top secret. He would make time in the next day or two to visit the secret research base personally. In truth, his original goal had been simply to develop a magical array akin to steam power. Now, with the energy conversion array nearly complete, and with a newly discovered crystal vein for supply, the engineer’s report from the Ministry of Resources was perfectly timed.

Perhaps it was time to consider ways to apply magic crystals to communications technology, bringing such advances into the broader world and not leaving them in the hands of organizations like the Constellation Council or the Mage Tower. However, Wahrenheit could not make this decision alone, as the original idea had come from Aquarius, who shared it with the Council. Should the secret leak, the consequences among the mages would be unpredictable. In this world, mages monopolized a vast body of technology. Even those willing to serve Landia would not reveal all their secrets. Aquarius, of course, was an exception, hence the Council’s advantage, but this did not mean the knowledge could be disclosed at will, lest other mages be enraged. Even if Aquarius didn’t mind, out of respect, such a proposal would have to be submitted and approved by the Council.

There was no help for it; such matters were inevitable. Wahrenheit slowly closed his eyes. Though the transmigrators would influence the course of civilization here, under the shadow of being treated as public enemies, they had to be exceedingly cautious. Those who were not careful either hid away like the necromancer on a remote island—fortunately, the Church lacked the zeal to hunt him down—or, like Wahrenheit, chose to exert influence indirectly through native hands, thereby avoiding unwanted attention.

Those who were careless had all perished, including one member of the Constellation Council: the Grand Duke Lionheart.

Wahrenheit thought of Manila, the one who had invented the coordinate system. From known history, it was clear he was a transmigrator like himself, who had achieved great things here, but stubbornly insisted the world was round.

But who had ever decreed that this world must be a sphere?

On this world, it was not so easy for transmigrators to replicate an industrial civilization as on Earth. Here, magic civilization reigned, and in terms of individual achievement and prowess, it was equal to or even surpassed what industrial civilization could attain. Yet magic civilization was too focused on the individual and lacked certain elements—such as management and assembly-line production—integral to industrial society.

In Wahrenheit’s view, magic civilization resembled those advanced technologies just emerging from the laboratory in industrial society, but lacked systematic management, advanced production methods, and further capital infusion. Thus, if one could not directly realize their ideal world here, combining the existing civilization with their own knowledge to create magical industry was a worthy alternative. Whether such a civilization would prove to be more advanced or merely a transitional phase, only time would tell. If the latter, so be it; when its development reached its limits, perhaps then the full advent of industrial civilization would come.

No matter how powerful the Church, it could not withstand the march of progress and the advance of civilization. Victory would ultimately belong to the transmigrators.

A faint smile appeared on Wahrenheit’s closed face as he gripped Ismint’s report tightly in his hand, as if he were clutching not a piece of paper, but fate itself.