Chapter 686: Chapter 442: Observations on the Border

As Prince Dazlert delivered a public speech in Fire Pattern Plaza, news that the Empire was about to go to war with the Anlong United Kingdom spread rapidly throughout the territory.

Countless newspapers, titled “Western War” or featuring related content, were printed in factories big and small and delivered into the hands of the Empire’s citizens by newsboys.

Excitement, anticipation, and anxiety merged into an intangible force named “the spirit of the times,” which filled every corner seemingly without effort.

Wealthy individuals frequently discussed the Western War at dinners and parties, constantly monitoring every bit of the event’s progress. Many of the upper class held a strong belief in the Empire’s success–some even began selling real estate and stocks, planning to rush to that territory to conduct business as soon as the war ended.

Compared to these courageous risk-takers, the majority of politicians and business tycoons were intent on seizing the opportunity to amass wealth.

Various civil associations, linked by an undercurrent, began to aggressively fundraise. Most of the funds ended up in their own pockets, with a fraction given freely to the officials, claiming it helped add strength to the war effort.

As for the common folk at the bottom of society, although they weren’t particularly concerned about the so-called Western War, they often found themselves drawn into discussions in crowded places. Sometimes, they even voiced some “unique” opinions, which usually attracted mockery from some ladies and gentlemen.

Within the Tresor Empire, the behaviors across different social strata varied, as if a pot of chemicals reacted vigorously under the influence of a catalyst.

However, despite this, such a phenomenon was hardly unprecedented, though it was certainly the most significant event in recent centuries aside from the Red Calamity, touching countless hearts.

Seven days passed in the blink of an eye.

The smell of war’s gunpowder had permeated the entire territory.

Residents of the Wasteland State and Insect State, near the western border, frequently saw large caravans of carriages transporting equipment rushing past. The rattling noise on the railroads that connected the regions was constant, with trains arriving one after the other, amassing countless troops.

Accompanied by the sharp whistles, the steam emitted by the trains seemed to weave together with the vast yellow sand, creating an unclear maze.

May 18, Solar Calendar 4420, in the afternoon.

Chen Lun arrived in Vulture City of the Wasteland State with his troops.

His first impression of the city was of its dry heat and the dense sandstorms. As for the so-called local customs, he summed it up in three words–

Dirty, messy, bad!

Sitting in the carriage and scanning the passing scene, makeshift shelters made from simple stone blocks were everywhere. The dark-skinned local residents, dressed in white linen shirts, roamed the streets like zombies. Emaciated children played with mud and bugs, staring with eyes full of confusion or fear as more and more strangers invaded their land.

Chen Lun wasn’t surprised by this, given that the Wasteland State was on the border and Vulture City hugged the Empire’s frontier. Just beyond the western wall, across dozens of miles of desert, one could see the wheat fields of the Yake Duchy.

The environment here was harsh, and resources were scarce. Although the recent years had seen the laying of railroads making transport increasingly convenient, the local development still struggled to keep up with regions like Gem State and Rock State.

To familiarize himself with the environment quickly, Chen Lun hired a local guide that spoke Tresor fluently for a “high price” of 50 Silver Ducats.

The guide was a young woman in her mid-twenties named Xing’er. Her skin was the color of wheat, her black hair tied back in a ponytail, and her face always adorned with an optimistic smile that left a memorable impression.

That was also the reason Chen Lun had chosen her instantly in the street-side “talent market.”

“Have you studied in Gem State?”

Chen Lun sat inside the carriage, glanced at the “resume” in his hands, and looked up to ask.

The two pages of paper in his hand recorded some of Xing’er’s personal information, all hand-written by her and appearing quite simple.

“Yes, sir, I studied for two years at the Cypress Leaf Academy in Amber City of the Gem State and witnessed the thriving scenes of the mainland…”

Xing’er sat rigidly on the seat of the carriage, her hands clasped together, and looked up nervously as she spoke.

Chen Lun raised an eyebrow, surprised by the coincidence.

‘She attended the same technical academy as Connie. I wonder if they were classmates…’

Connie hadn’t accompanied them this time and stayed in Royal City; otherwise, the two might have had some common topics to discuss.

Seeing her unease, Chen Lun turned to Morey and said:

“Pour her a glass of juice.”

“Yes, Mr. Jack.”

Morey, dressed in a high-quality black suit and wearing a round-top hat, looked every bit like an upper-class gentleman, but next to Chen Lun, he appeared more like an ordinary servant.

After he bowed in acknowledgment, he turned and took a beautifully crafted glass bottle from the carriage’s cooler, poured the golden, translucent chilled orange juice into a glass, and handed it to Xing’er.

She immediately seemed flustered and hastily declined:

“No… no thank you, sir, that is too precious, just some water will do.”

“Don’t be so nervous, it’s just a glass of juice,”

Chen Lun chuckled.

He knew resources were scarce locally, and even water was quite expensive, let alone a glass of juice which only a few privileged could afford.

Xing’er still hesitated to take the glass, her head down, remaining silent.

Chen Lun shook his head, half-jokingly said:

“It seems Miss Xing’er is not very willing to serve me.”