After an untold duration of flight, the howling gale across the snowfield carried Anello before the walls of Bourne City, at the northernmost edge of Snowfield Province.
The city-state's towering walls were carved with weathered runes, the gate fortress blending seamlessly into the vast white expanse. Nearby, mounted imperial guards patrolled on horseback, their sharp gazes missing nothing.
Anello sprinted forward across the snow. The blizzard behind him threatened to swallow him whole beneath a somber gray sky where snowflakes danced wildly in the air.
As he drew closer to the ramparts, the wind and snow gradually subsided. The heavy blanket of clouds no longer hung over Bourne City; in its place, faint, warm rays of sunlight spilled through the gaps in the clouds.
The brightening light cast a guiding glow across the fortress walls, tracing the ancient stonework with a gilded rim.
Anello's eyes were drawn to it. His racing pulse began to slow, the lingering dread in his chest gradually giving way to safety and hope. The city-state's protective barrier felt gentle and welcoming, like a haven of paradise.
By the time he stepped into the gate entrance, Anello no longer looked quite so flustered. When the guards inspected him, he produced a distinctive imperial military identification token from beneath his clothes, engraved with his name and insignia of rank.
Seeing his credentials, the guards immediately snapped to attention in a salute and respectfully waved him through.
The heavy gates slowly parted before him, revealing the interior of Bourne City. Looking down from the elevated gate fortress, bustling streets, lively markets, and grand buildings breathed life into the city—a stark contrast to the dead silence of the snowfield.
Anello drew a deep breath. He could feel the anxiety that had weighed on his chest for so long finally release its grip. His heartbeat settled into a steady rhythm, and every cell in his body rejoiced in this moment of peace.
Walking down the main thoroughfare, he knew that while he had survived this ordeal, he had an even more critical mission to accomplish.
The city folk had no inkling of what had transpired in the world beyond; they simply carried on with their lives, their faces full of ignorant laughter.
Were it not for the fact that High Priest Loren was not far from Snowfield Province, he would have picked out a few lucky souls and slaughtered these cattle, framing the deed as criminal evidence to pin on the Bishop of Domination.
The closer he drew to the city center, the more orderly and solemn the architecture became.
One of the most striking structures was the Temple of the Knights of Extinction, standing at the far end of Bourne Plaza.
Its spires pierced high into the sky, every block of stone steeped in history.
When Anello caught sight of the temple, a faint smile crossed his lips.
Entering the temple, he immediately sought out the Great Cleric stationed there.
Upon seeing Anello, the Holy Son of Extinction, a flash of shock showed in the Great Cleric's eyes before quickly shifting to delight.
"Lord Anello, your arrival is an honor to our Snowfield Province branch of the Knights of Extinction," he bowed respectfully.
"Spare me your flattery. I need to see Bourne City's governor. Immediately," Anello said coldly, in no mood for pleasantries.
The Great Cleric was taken aback by Anello's demand. Clearly, only a matter of extreme urgency could produce such an attitude, but he nodded quickly and gestured for Anello to follow him back outside.
"Of course. I shall take you to the Governor's Mansion," he answered.
The temple interior was resplendent with gold and jade, yet Anello remained unmoved. He hurried through the corridors alongside the Great Cleric, leaving the temple behind.
Bourne City's streets were paved with snow-white stone, lined with trees and flower beds. Despite the perpetual northern blizzards, the hardy local flora grew thick and lush.
When pedestrians saw Anello and the Extinction Branch's Great Cleric approach, they parted and stepped aside.
Anello had no particular opinion regarding the people of Snowfield Province. This was virtually an abandoned province in times of war; were it not so far from the Northern Border Province and closer to Box Mountain Province, it would have fallen long ago.
Aside from being overrun with stubborn nobles, this remote province was a complete mess, such that even the Imperial Capital of Herrom had dragged its feet in sending someone to assume the post of governor.
However, word had it that a firm-handed new governor had recently been appointed to Snowfield Province. Bourne City had even built a Governor's Mansion in advance for his arrival, where he had begun working immediately. As for the city's original lord, Viscount Blake Bourne, he had been imprisoned for high treason and was awaiting transport to the Imperial Capital of Herrom for further trial. The city-state was now administered by the governor alongside several other lords, cementing Bourne City as the provincial elite and populace's universally recognized new administrative center.
Before long, Anello and the Great Cleric reached the other end of the city. Ahead stood an even more imposing new structure—the Snowfield Province Governor's Mansion in Bourne City. Their footsteps echoed urgently across the stone-paved road.
Crossing an expansive square, the two arrived at the Governor's Mansion. The estate stood atop a grand flight of stone steps, surrounded by statues of imperial heroes whose spirits seemed poised to safeguard the empire for eternity.
The Great Cleric stated their purpose to the guards at the entrance, who promptly admitted them and used communication equipment to notify the high-ranking officials within.
The grand double doors swung open, revealing a splendid hall. Exquisite tapestries bearing the crests of various cities across Snowfield Province adorned the walls, illuminated by the gentle glow of sconces.
Anello did not have to wait long. A middle-aged man descended the wide grand staircase, clad in a nobleman's dark brown robe. He appeared to have been in the middle of official duties, setting his work aside to receive the visitors.
Every guard in the hall bowed with deep reverence as the nobleman passed.
"May I ask what brings the Great Cleric to the Governor's Mansion today?"
Viscount Laiwen Chinston approached with calm composure in his eyes, gesturing for them to enter as he inquired.
"It is not I who seek you, but our Lord Holy Son of Extinction, who comes on an urgent matter."
The Great Cleric succinctly introduced Anello's identity, then turned to Anello and said, "Lord Anello, Viscount Chinston here is currently serving as acting governor of Snowfield Province. In the governor's absence, many affairs are administered on his behalf."
"So it is the Lord Holy Son of Extinction."
At this, Viscount Chinston wore a look of realization and deep respect.
"Whatever commands you have, please do not hesitate to instruct me."
Viscount Laiwen Chinston spoke in a calm, measured tone, each word distinct, projecting an aura of consummate reliability.
The Holy Son of Extinction gave a curt nod.
"Viscount Chinston, I need to use Snowfield Province's communications terminal immediately to establish contact with the front lines in the Northern Border and the Imperial Capital of Herrom."
Anello's voice carried no excess emotion.
"However, our communications terminals here in Snowfield Province are currently under imperial military restrictions and control," Viscount Chinston said, looking slightly taken aback before nodding slowly.
"I have the clearance."
Anello cast a stern, frosty glance at the viscount.
"Very well, we will naturally accommodate your request without delay. But if I may ask, what urgent matter has occurred that requires you to contact the capital and the front lines in such haste?"
Viscount Chinston led Anello and the Great Cleric forward, asking with an air of mild concern.
A flicker of wariness crossed Anello's eyes, quickly settling back into aloofness. Viscount Chinston was a shrewd man; caring about the safety of Snowfield Province was only natural. Furthermore, Anello intended to spread the news that "Loren has appeared within the Empire's borders" to as many people as possible anyway.
"High Priest Loren of the Southern Continent has arrived. I must use the terminal immediately to report this emergency to the Empire's high command. Anything else can wait until after the call is made," Anello replied tersely.
"Truly?"
Viscount Chinston raised his eyebrows, exclaiming in astonishment.
Yet he said nothing more, merely giving a grave nod as he hastened his pace and signaled for Anello to keep up, as if fully grasping the gravity of the situation.
The three ascended the stairs to the third floor of the Governor's Mansion. The carpet along the corridor was embroidered with golden insignias and coats of arms, reflecting the glorious resolve of the snowfield. This floor housed the conference area and the governor's office, guarded by several elite provincial sentries. The illumination was meticulously arranged throughout, with dazzling chandeliers suspended from high vaulted ceilings that bathed the entire corridor in light as bright as day.
Leading the way, Viscount Chinston stopped before a set of wide oak doors. He pushed them open to reveal an elegantly appointed office with dark wood-grain paneling and bookshelves lined with precious city-state archives and ancient tomes.
Upon the desk sat neatly organized pending documents and valuable magic apparatus equipment.
Among them was a communications terminal linked to the provincial relay hub.
Viscount Chinston gestured toward the communications terminal. "Lord Holy Son of Extinction, please."
Anello gave an indifferent nod, then fixed Viscount Chinston and the Great Cleric with a silent stare.
Meeting his gaze, the two understood immediately. They offered a slight bow and closed the doors behind them.
And so,
in this spacious office, Anello was left alone.
His body unconsciously relaxed a fraction.
A faint fragrance of agarwood drifted in the air, while wall sconces cast ample light across the room. Every detail of the Protos Empire-style decor and layout spoke of an orderly, dignified seat of power.
This was precisely the sense of safety and security that Anello desperately craved after the harrowing flight and bloodshed.
Approaching the terminal, he inserted the imperial military's special [Encrypted Communication Program] and initiated the contact sequence.
As he waited for the line to connect, his heart began to pound once more.
If he could deliver this earth-shattering intelligence to the Protos Empire, it would still count as an immense meritorious deed.
He would earn greater trust from the Protos high command and unimaginable prestige!
A low hum and chime sounded from the receiver—the signal of a successful connection.
Anello's mission was finally on the verge of completion. All the pressure and shadows weighing upon him seemed to dissolve in the sunlight, replaced by profound satisfaction and anticipation—as if, after a grueling trek, he had at last glimpsed the oasis of his dreams.
The very next second.
A voice emanated from the receiver, gentle enough to take Anello by surprise.
"Hello."
Just a moment ago, Anello had been steeped in relief and bursting with hope. Yet the instant the voice sounded—
A chill surged from his ear straight into his brain.
His hand jerked as if struck by lightning, wanting to drop the receiver.
This sounded nothing like an officer from the Department of National Defense in the Imperial Capital of Herrom.
What terrified him even more was that this voice was one he had heard just a short while ago!
Chapter 348