Novel Full Chapter 564 - 339: Beacon of Civilization (2)
Chapter 564: Chapter 339: Beacon of Civilization (2)
“Even they can believe it’s the right path.”
Louis nodded: “The Northern Territory has never had hope because no one ever told them what the future means. So this time… we will give them a path upward.”
Bradley silently performed a salute.
……
The convoy moved slowly through the morning mist.
The carriage wheels rolled over the dirt road, emitting a low “creak” sound.
The wooden boards rattled, and the cold wind seeped through the canvas cracks, making the few youths inside the carriage shiver.
Kosa sat in the front of the carriage, hugging his knees, without saying a word.
His eyes silently watched the scenery ahead until that gray-white contour slowly emerged from the mist.
Red Tide City.
He had heard the name of this city.
From his father’s mouth, from Red Tide officials, from those books…
But he never thought the city would be like this.
It was a winding stone wall, covered in frost over its gray-white base, and the cold light shimmered in the morning mist, like a polished war axe.
Numerous cold iron beams pierced through the walls, deeply embedded in the stone crevices, as if the walls themselves were made of cast iron.
Towers had been completed, piercing the sky with smoking braziers burning on their tops.
The firelight flickered, reflecting on the red flag flapping in the wind, with the sun emblem coldly staring at him.
Looking further ahead, the tall wooden gates were heavy and solid, with cold iron nails densely embedded in the door panels.
Kosa’s gaze shifted slightly, gripping his knees tightly.
In a flash, he recalled his tribe’s simple tent, the hearth with lingering ash, and the faded fabric flag on the wall.
The rough wooden pillars and mud walls, stone blocks crumbling under the frost, compared to this neatly arranged city whose walls alone could block the cold wind…
Like two worlds.
Saco instinctively lowered his head, his mind a bit chaotic.
He couldn’t describe what he was feeling.
Anger? Shame? Fear? Or…
Envy?
“We have arrived.” Someone said softly behind him.
Kosa lifted his head, looking again at the high wall.
Beyond were the rooftops, towers, and the rising white steam within the city.
In front of Red Tide’s gate, there was no clamor.
No hawking cries, no pushing or shoving, not even a cough seemed out of place.
The moment Kosa jumped off the carriage, he instantly saw that patrol knight team.
Six men in a row, donned in red cloaks and gray steel armor, cold and uniform, with the city emblem on their left shoulders, marching in unison,
Every three steps, they shouted a command in unison, as if practicing on a training ground.
He instinctively stopped in his tracks.
He had never seen such a team, exuding an indescribable quality from their very bones, which could be called order.
Unlike the tribe’s cavalry shouting in animal hides, or the Empire’s border knights randomly waving flags…
Even when turning their heads, the Red Tide Knights followed a certain rhythm, compelling others to hold their breath.
What shocked Kosa even more was that when the knight team passed right in front of him, he instinctively held his breath, trying to sense the flow of fighting energy in one of them.
But he couldn’t sense it.
No, he did sense it, a kind of calm, introverted, deeply restrained power.
Like a thoroughly polished blade, coldly sheathed, waiting for the moment to reveal its sharp edge.
Kosa’s pupils slightly contracted.
Even if these men were on a routine patrol, they were at least of elite warrior caliber.
“How is this possible,” he murmured to himself, “using such warriors just to guard a gate?”
Once called the most gifted youth in his tribe, he seemed insignificant in front of these men.
He looked around, noticing all the Barbarian Race youths like him lowering their heads, utterly silent.
A few Red Tide Knights were matching their records against the entry list, registering them one by one.
No one shouted commands, and no one used whips to urge them.
Yet the team advanced of its own accord, each person obediently showing their identity card at the gate, having their baggage inspected, then moving on with a numbered slip to the diversion point.
Standing before this orderly process, Kosa suddenly felt an indescribable unease.
He looked down at his worn-out boots, then glanced at a merchant who had just dismounted beside him.
The shoes that man wore were polished to a shine.
And the stationed Red Tide Knights, their chins under helmets chiseled like stone sculptures.
They seemed too clean, too tidy…
Kosa instinctively stepped back half a step, pulling his mother-mended cloak tighter.
But soon he snorted inwardly: “Hmph… It’s just dressing well, what’s so impressive about it.”
The lineup was short, and soon it was their turn.
The leading knight handed a scroll to the gate-guarding knight to confirm identities.
Then a registrar approached.
He appeared to be in his thirties, his hair neatly combed, with a gently reassuring aura.
He glanced at the youths in front of him: “Don’t be nervous, come a bit closer, one at a time, starting with your name and your parents’ names.”
The registrar smiled, as if comforting children entering the city: “From today, you are Red Tide People, understand?”
A Barbarian Race youth in the front row, unaccustomed to the Red Tide procedures, was momentarily speechless.
But the registrar didn’t rush him, only saying gently: “Take your time, it’s okay.”
Finally, it was Kosa’s turn.
“Name?”
“Kosa.”
“Full name?”
“Kosa Han…” he bit his tongue halfway, then softly repeated, “Kosa.”
The registrar showed no surprise, merely nodding and writing the name down.
“Age?”
“Fifteen.”
“Original Border Guard Village number: Seventeenth. Recommended by, Village Head Tolan.”
Upon hearing this name, the registrar paused, looked up at him, and smiled slightly.
“You’re Tolan’s son? I have interacted with your father a few times.”
The registrar’s tone was unhurried, like a casual chat between old acquaintances, then he casually added:
“I’m from the Old Bone Clan, same as you, formerly from the Snowfield People.”
When he said this, he neither lowered his voice nor avoided eye contact.
That Barbarian Race origin, he spoke of it with frankness.
Kosa was stunned.
He never imagined that a Red Tide official would openly and unreservedly mention their tribal origin.
And no one frowned, no one avoided it, no one felt there was an issue.
This scene exploded a flurry of chaotic thoughts in his mind.
He thought he was sent here as a hostage.
As the defeated side, a bargaining chip ceded, a lamb chosen from the fold.
But now, he saw another from the Barbarian Race, not only unbowed but openly serving as an official.
Even saying, “I have interacted with your father.”
It was nothing like what he had heard or imagined in the village.
In that moment, he first realized, perhaps… this place wasn’t specifically designed to humiliate the Barbarian Race.
“Tolan is a smart man, his son shouldn’t be any less.”
The registrar’s tone lightened: “Your father wrote saying you learn quickly, and your writing is good.
Rest assured, Lord Bradley personally instructed that children like you will be given special attention for development.”
He even patted Kosa on the shoulder with the naturalness one would show a nephew, without the slightest doubt or any hint of distance.
The registrar’s lineage, demeanor, even the subtleties of his every word, exuded a sense of perfectly measured warmth.
This was Bradley’s careful arrangement, so that these Barbarian Race youths entering Red Tide City for the first time wouldn’t feel like outsiders from the start.
Kosa suddenly felt at a loss for how to respond.
He never thought he would be accepted in such a way, even as a tribesman.
Even though he knew this was likely a strategy, a pacification, a gentle form of taming.
Yet when the person handed him the temporary copper badge stamped with “Red Tide Trainee Student.”
He paused for a moment.
The badge was hefty, small, but inexplicably pressed against his heart.
Since when did he become someone unaccustomed to being treated well?