Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 364 - 363: Sights in Cecil

Godwin Orlando walked along the eastern street of the Mage District, with passersby coming and going beside him.

This elderly scholar from the royal capital paused his steps, taking in the land that was still quite unfamiliar to him, and the vibrant, lively people living upon it.

He sighed softly.

This is an incredible land, something he never doubted—back in the royal capital, he often heard news coming from the south about how the legendary Founding Duke led eight hundred people to establish a foothold in the Dark Mountain Range, a feat so extraordinary that it could only be described as ”inconceivable.” From that time, he knew that just as long as this land could exist peacefully, it would always be something remarkable.

So from that moment, he often thought about coming here, to witness firsthand how this developing new region took root in the Dark Mountain Range. It was his instinct as a scholar, not only because he was passionate about studying the epic tales of Gawain Cecil, but also because he was filled with curiosity about the unknown world.

People often say that history is a discipline that studies the ”known,” but Godwin never thought that way. He was used to discovering the unknown from history, discovering those things that had never been found before. He believed that only those who could turn the unknown into the known could truly be called scholars.

So now he was here, treading upon this land in person, and he was rewarded with the realization—this land was indeed incredible.

This place was prosperous, not at all like a new developing region that had been established just a year ago. The ”machines” here roared through the night, the buildings stood tall and orderly, the streets were clean and organized, rules against public urination were enforced, and labor was encouraged to create wealth. The people here—the proud and dignified Cecil Clan—were even more vibrant and industrious than many citizens he had seen in the royal capital’s affluent district.

He could hardly believe that these people were refugees just a year ago.

But this incredibility gave this royal scholar who enjoyed exploring the unknown a feeling of hesitation.

He did not understand how this land had developed to its current state, but he knew that it operated under a ”rule” entirely different from the social order he knew. The line between commoners and nobles here became blurred, as did the boundary between ordinary people and Transcendents. Here, peasants could go to school to learn to read and write, and craftsmen without any magical talent were using magic to complete their tasks. The Cecil was so flourishing and prosperous that at times, Godwin felt as if it was an incomprehensible, chaotic dream—this feeling was particularly prominent at this moment.

He sighed and continued moving towards the apartment building allocated to him.

He knew he had failed to complete the leader’s task, and he acknowledged that this was entirely his own problem. He indeed did not understand the common farming and craft knowledge, but writing about market price fluctuations and domestic and foreign news was still no problem for him. The only thing he needed to do was to learn to use the plain and simple language of the commoners to describe these things, and even learn to think like them. But for a scholar from the royal capital, with good manners and lineage, possessing even a part of noble bloodline from the side family, this was not so easy to achieve.

”Mr. Orlando, Mr. Orlando, please wait a moment.”

A slightly familiar voice came from behind, and Godwin Orlando finally took notice and stopped. He turned around to see a young man with unruly curly hair, tall and thin, wearing an old magic robe, approaching him.

He paused briefly, composed himself again, and summoned his energy—as someone with a surname, he had to maintain his image in front of others with surnames: ”Mr. Santis Seid, good afternoon.”

He was very polite, although Santis was a complete commoner while he himself had a touch of noble blood, Santis also held the title of a Grade-2 Arcanist, which in many cases equated to a noble status as a Transcendent. Therefore, even though Santis was much younger, he had to be courteous.

”Good afternoon, Mr. Orlando,” Santis nodded to the older gentleman, then curiously asked, ”Did you just return from the leader? I heard the leader tasked you with compiling a new type of reading material. How’s it going?”

Godwin sighed dejectedly: ”Ah, to be honest, I let the leader down.”

”How could that be?” Santis was astonished, ”You are a renowned grammar expert! Could it be that what the leader assigned you is too difficult?”

”Quite the contrary...” Godwin sighed, then shared everything he had experienced today in one breath—he really needed to get these things off his chest to someone, and the gentle-natured, unpretentious Santis, who came from a commoner background, proved to be a suitable confidant.

After listening to Godwin’s account, Santis was silent for a moment. He already understood everything. After a brief consideration, he offered Godwin an invitation: ”Mr. Orlando, if you have some free time, would you like to sit in on a class I’m teaching?”

”Sit in?” Godwin was momentarily taken aback. He knew what Santis was doing here—this Grade-2 Arcanist did not, like other Transcendents, follow Lady Rebecca and become a researcher in the Magical Technology Department. Instead, he became a teacher at the Cecil General Academy, teaching magic symbol classes to a group of commoner children. He also knew that a few younger scholars had gone to that school as well, to lecture other commoners.

To be honest, Godwin felt a bit disdainful about it, but since those young scholars seemed to be friends with Santis, he understood, albeit reluctantly. He simply didn’t expect Santis to invite him to attend a class.

”Think of it as a change of pace,” Santis smiled gently, ”The children are very friendly.”

Godwin, feeling a bit disoriented, agreed almost subconsciously. By the time he realized, he was already walking into the Cecil General Academy and into the classroom.

He was led by Santis to a chair at the back of the classroom. Many children of various sizes were running around the classroom, playing hide and seek between the desks and chairs, shouting at the window sills—these children were all dressed in clean and neat new clothes, but Godwin knew they were all commoner children.

They truly lacked proper upbringing.

The children finally noticed the stranger in the classroom, and a pair of curious eyes turned towards him. Godwin felt awkward under these gazes, imagining that the next moment these kids might rush over to tug on his beard or clothes—but in reality, nothing happened. The children only observed him from a distance, curious and cautious, and even those who came closer stood honestly nearby.

Godwin turned his neck, wanting to greet the children, but first, he noticed something on the wall at the back of the classroom—right behind him, a smooth ”cement” wall, covered entirely with paintings.

It was painted with some kind of colorful ”paint,” definitely not the expensive paint used for church icons. Its colors weren’t very authentic, exuding a sense of cheapness, yet the scene depicted made Godwin’s eyes widen uncontrollably.

It was a harvest field, towering sentinel towers and magnificent castle walls surrounding it. In one corner of the painting, a silhouette of the Dark Mountain Range could be seen.

The scenery was from somewhere outside the territory.

Godwin had never seen such art, but its intricacy surprised him, and he muttered to himself in a low voice, ”It’s truly incredible...”

Then, a boy beside him suddenly shouted, ”I painted this!”

Surprised, Godwin turned to look, seeing a dirty-faced child proudly pointing at himself, then motioning to a quiet girl next to him, ”And Sister Pea, we painted it together!”

The quiet girl gave a slight smile without speaking, while another child beside her shouted, ”They are the duty students this week!”

”Duty students”? What does that mean?

Godwin was filled with questions, but before he could ask, a bell suddenly rang from outside the classroom.

As if by magic, the once chaotic children immediately rushed to their seats when the bell rang. Within seconds, everyone was in their place, and the classroom grew quiet.

Godwin watched this scene in astonishment, the rapid transformation leaving him stunned, and then he saw Santis step onto the podium.

The Grade-2 Arcanist placed the teaching tools on the large table on the podium and surveyed the classroom, then said, ”Let’s begin roll call. When your name is called, answer ’present’ or raise your hand.”

When he mentioned ”raise your hand,” several children glanced at the quiet girl.

Santis began the roll call.

One by one, the children’s names were called, each responding, with almost no other sound in the classroom apart from the roll call and responses.

Godwin widened his eyes at all this, suddenly realizing what he was so amazed at.

Order.

An indescribable order present among these commoner, uneducated, and naive children, within this classroom.

This order, he had never even seen in the royal capital.

This order, unlike the socially determined ”class distinctions” and ”hierarchical status,” was a purer and more absolute form of order.

Like the meshing of steel gears.

Santis finished the roll call, with only one student absent due to illness, and nodded, then opened the textbook in his hand.

”Now, let’s begin today’s lesson. Continuing from last class, today we will learn how spell moulds transform into magic circles and the formation of the magic symbol knot during this transformation.

”First, we need a rough understanding of the history of array magic...”

A rustling sound came from the back of the classroom.

Godwin Orlando, upon understanding the courses these commoner children were being taught, almost slipped to the floor.