Chapter 475: The Imperial Era (Part I)
"Wooo—"
The chaotic sounds of train whistles, machinery in motion, and iron wheels grinding against tracks filled the air.
On Isthalia's wide Wyvern Avenue, multiple railway tracks crisscrossed, with steam locomotives traversing them, carrying people of all kinds to different parts of the city.
"Extra! Extra! The latest Imperial Daily! His Majesty Cassius arrives in the Plane of Fire, expanding the empire's frontiers once more!"
"Klauber Industrial Group issues a statement: Unconditional support for all special actions of the Imperial Tax Department and harsh condemnation of any tax evasion!"
"Hiring armed escorts! Protect caravans heading to the Fadlan region! Requirements—"
"Recruiting teammates for the latest Giant Ruins dungeon! Must be Tier 4 or above with extensive combat experience! No Wild Magic Sorcerers! No Wild Magic Sorcerers!"
"Daimo Blacksmith Shop, the adventurer's paradise—your best choice for forging equipment—"
"Citizens, follow the regulations!"
"His Majesty Cassius is watching your every move!"
A knight-mounted wyvern flapped its wings, soaring low overhead.
Listening to these noisy yet familiar sounds and watching the diverse crowds along the streets, George, sitting by the window, couldn't help but smile.
"So…"
"They are the true 'Imperial Dream.'"
Only now did George remember why he had settled in Isthalia and why he felt pride in this city.
It was always full of life, brimming with an unrefined, untamed, and rugged vitality.
Whether it was street vendors, shouting newsboys, hawking blacksmiths, or the eccentric Starfallers, they were all constantly climbing upward, using any means necessary—just as he once did.
The Northern Lands once filled him with despair, the gap between nobles and commoners an unbridgeable chasm.
It was a disparity of status, resources, vision, and military power, making nobles and slaves seem like two completely different species.
No matter how hard he worked, at most, he would receive a noble's remark: "This is a capable beast of burden."
Under the rigid order of the Northern Lands, everyone was shackled to their place, with no escape for a lifetime.
As someone branded with the mark of a slave, George had been born beneath the feet of all others, bound by the fate of slavery.
As insignificant as dust, as cheap as grass.
According to the priests in the churches, the souls of slaves were made of foul water and filthy ash—defective and needing purification through endless labor.
To George, the former Northern Kingdom was nothing but a decaying—
At that thought, he shuddered and muttered under his breath, "Thankfully… thankfully, the Northern Lands have fallen."
George was unfortunate—born into a life of servitude.
But he was also fortunate.
Unlike his ancestors and countless other slaves before him, he was given a chance to change his fate.
Like a blazing sun, the emperor had appeared, sweeping away the ancient Northern United Kingdom in an unstoppable conquest.
The empire completely shattered the old Northern order, dragging nobles to the guillotine and establishing a new system.
George knew well that the Ember Empire was neither fair nor kind. It was a terrifying mechanical behemoth, consuming all within its vast frame.
Yet it was also merciful—it offered everyone a chance to rise. If one served the empire with their life, there was at least a small possibility of reward. As Langpu once put it, this was called "social mobility."
And George was one of the lucky ones. He stumbled upon several strokes of fortune—first by reporting enemy spies and earning first-class citizenship, then by gaining military merits and becoming a baron.
His story was even featured in the Imperial Daily, making him an inspiration for many of lowly birth striving for a better life.
As he gazed at the hurried figures outside the window, George felt a surge of emotion.
But before he could dwell on it further, Grace's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"George, what are you looking at?"
George turned his head. "Nothing much. Just looking at the streets. Isthalia is developing so fast."
Grace chuckled. "Well, all the empire's resources are concentrated here. Of course, it's changing fast."
"You probably don't go out much, do you? This part of Wyvern Avenue is nothing. Emperor's Square is the real heart of the city. Next time, I'll take you to see the newly completed Grand Arena—it's truly spectacular."
"I've heard of it, but I'm not particularly interested."
George smiled, then turned his gaze back to the window and pointed outside. "After all… once you've seen that, no other building can ever seem impressive."
Grace followed George's finger and saw the Isthalia Grand Altar towering over the city, overlooking its people.
Surrounded by thin clouds, the majestic white marble structure looked almost otherworldly.
Even from the furthest outskirts of Isthalia, one could still see the white altar, a constant reminder of His Majesty's radiance.
Grace was momentarily stunned before shaking his head with a chuckle. "Of course. After all, that's where His Majesty Cassius was crowned."
"I saw it ascend with my own eyes. That sight… it's unforgettable."
"Yeah."
George sighed as well.
"I even took part in the construction project two years ago. Back then, Isthalia was still a barren wasteland. Who could have imagined it would become the city it is now?"
"Anyway, let's not dwell on that. We're not the ones making decisions about the empire's future—who knows what lies ahead?"
Grace nodded in agreement but suddenly remembered something. "Oh, right. Have you heard about the new military policy?"
"Something about a military rank system?"
George thought for a moment, recalling what he'd heard a few days ago. "Apparently, it's a separate ranking system designed specifically for the army, distinct from noble titles."
"For captains like us, we'll probably be granted the rank of lieutenant colonel. I think they're issuing manuals on it too."
Grace waved dismissively, sounding unimpressed. "That's nothing. It doesn't affect those of us who already have noble titles."
He leaned in conspiratorially. "I'm talking about something else—Marshal Dolo's latest statement on 'military specialization.'"
George was intrigued.
"What's that? I haven't picked up today's Imperial Military Gazette yet."
Grace pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from his pocket, smirking. "Doesn't matter. This won't be published for another two days—I got it early through a friend in the Propaganda Department."
"You know the empire has been expanding into multiple colonies recently, right?"
George nodded. "Of course. There's the Brass Fortress in the Plane of Fire, Dragonshadow City in the Darklands, and the southern Caspa Hills."
Grace continued, "The environments in those places are drastically different. The Plane of Fire is a burning inferno, the Darklands are in perpetual darkness, and the Caspa Hills resemble Anzeta Wasteland but are even warmer."
George immediately understood. "So, that's why they need 'military specialization,' right? The empire is training units tailored to specific battlefields to adapt to extreme conditions."
"Exactly."
Grace's expression grew serious. "This will determine our future. Do you want to suffer in the Plane of Fire or the Darklands? Or seize glory in the South?"
"It's definitely a major decision."
George scanned the document in his hand, his expression solemn.
Indeed, peace would not last long. For this war-born empire, expansion was its very instinct.
And for imperial officers like George, the most crucial question was where to go next and whether they could make their mark.
"Military specialization, huh…"
Just then, a sharp train whistle interrupted his thoughts.
"Wooo—"
"[Imperial Third Military Training Base]—next stop. Please disembark in an orderly fashion."
The conductor's voice echoed through the carriage, and officers and soldiers began stepping off.
"I'm heading out first, George."
"Alright, see you later."
The two disembarked, heading to different sections of the training base.
George belonged to the infantry, while Grace was in the artillery.
During the Unification War, Grace decisively opened fire, accurately striking the enemy command post and killing a Northern Lands count, allowing him to stand out among the many ogre artillerymen.
"Good morning, Viscount Seth."
"Mm."
Entering the infantry base, the diversity of races was immediately evident—hobgoblins, ogres, humans, and tieflings were all common sights.
However, hobgoblins and tieflings generally held higher positions. Most of them were veterans from the Ember Nest era and had dukes backing them.
This was something George could only envy.
Yet, after acquiring dragon blood, racial conflicts had significantly diminished—for the empire's military, dragon blood was now the sole measure of noble lineage.
As a baron, George's status within this military camp was nothing out of the ordinary.
The highest commander of his unit was an hobgoblin marquis, a veteran who had once stood by Marshal Dolo's side.
Seeing an hobgoblin hurriedly approaching, George quickly saluted and greeted him—this was his direct superior, Arturo Redridge.
Hobgoblins typically had names of this style.
"Good morning, Count Arturo. You look well today."
"George?"
The tall, dragon-blooded hobgoblin lowered his head and scrutinized the human before him.
George had originally been a reserve recruit who joined midway, but due to his exceptional training efforts, he had been promoted to a full-fledged soldier ahead of schedule and had since repeatedly distinguished himself in battle.
Arturo held this human in relatively high regard.
Hobgoblins generally looked down on humans, calling them "upright lambs" or "cowards."
But Arturo, with his extensive experience, understood that humans had far greater potential than his kind often assumed.
And in his view, while hobgoblins were of the same race, they were usually ruthless opportunists, whereas humans were easier to manage and control.
"You came at the right time. I'm about to hold a military meeting. Come with me."
"Yes, my lord."
George promptly responded.
He followed the hobgoblin count up the spiral staircase within the base, soon arriving on the second floor and entering the conference room.
After waiting for half an hour, all the regiment and battalion officers had arrived.
In the military system reform several months ago, the empire's infantry was structured around battalions as the basic tactical units. Each battalion consisted of four to six companies, roughly three hundred to six hundred soldiers. Three battalions formed a regiment, and six regiments formed a division.
Beyond divisions, the "corps" served as strategic units, incorporating various arms of service, including infantry, cavalry, and artillery divisions.
For example, George's 7th Corps included three infantry divisions, a dragon-beast heavy cavalry division, and an artillery division composed mainly of ogres.
George was a battalion commander in the 3rd Regiment of the 2nd Infantry Division within the 7th Corps, leading 473 soldiers, most of whom were human.
Arturo Redridge was the division commander of the 2nd Infantry Division.
Inside the meeting room, Count Arturo sat at the head of the table, with regiment commanders seated around him, while George and the other battalion commanders stood on the outskirts.
Seeing that most of the officers had arrived, Arturo spoke loudly: "Gentlemen, I assume you've all heard some rumors lately?"
A regiment commander cautiously responded, "Lord Arturo, are you referring to Marshal Dolo's mention of 'military specialization'?"
"That's right."
The hobgoblin nodded slightly, then stood up and declared firmly, "Since you already understand the basics, I'll get straight to the point—the imperial army is about to undergo a complete restructuring. Your days of idling around are over!"
"Marshal Dolo has specifically ordered the formation of a specialized and systematic military force to adapt to different battlefield environments."
With a wave of his hand, the magical crystal lit up, displaying the infernal landscape of the Plane of Fire.
"Soldiers with high levels of dragonification can volunteer for the expansion corps in the Plane of Fire."
"You will undergo special training, receive heat-resistant equipment, and be sent to the most dangerous and extreme environment—the Plane of Fire. But in return, you will have the chance to earn great military merits!"
"Those who fail to meet the requirements will be assigned to homeland defense forces, stationed at the borders."
"The most elite units will be consolidated into the Imperial Continental Army, to participate in the future conquest of the Feanso Continent."
Arturo slammed the table, his voice filled with fervor. The magical projection displayed a vast continent, magnificent cities, and even the image of the Holy City of Fadlan.
The gathered military officers erupted into murmurs.
Arturo's tone turned heavy, his gaze sharp as he said, "Higher-ups will be sending military advisors to evaluate us."
"Will you remain in the homeland, wasting your days? Or will you venture into the Darklands or the Plane of Fire to fight? Or will you head south in pursuit of glory? The choice is entirely yours!"
George stared at the projection on the table, silent, though his heart was already pounding, the golden light in his eyes shimmering.
"Isthalia is great, but—I want to see a greater world, to conquer the South for His Majesty Cassius!"
His fists slowly clenched, his determination growing stronger.
Many of the officers in the meeting room showed various expressions, some even tempted to venture into the Plane of Fire to try their luck.
Monsters and humans lived together, sharing the same faith, the same language, and serving under the same imperial rule.
They set off to different planes, bringing muskets and cannons to all corners of the world, risking their lives for power, wealth, and the chance to climb higher.
This was a fervent era—this was the Era of the Empire.