Book 3: Chapter 296: Ruins in the Snowfield

When Sylutia returned to the Hidden Grove, the Mage Alliance was also carrying out large-scale land reclamation. This time, they had the assistance of gardeners from the Hidden Grove Alliance, and grain production was expected to increase by roughly 70% compared to previous years.

"If it weren't the Sinking Fog season, but a season with abundant sunlight, production could increase even more." A gardener from the Hidden Grove said proudly.

Beneath the gray layers of clouds, many residents of the town carried tools and walked out of the city gates. Outside, the wilderness was covered in freshly turned soil.

Although the machinery had completed most of the work, some finer tasks still required human hands to finish up.

Under the sky, these residents were organized and led to different designated areas to begin their labor.

Due to the food shortage, the Mage Alliance had already implemented food rationing. Many people who couldn't afford the high-priced commercial grain could only exchange their labor for a day's worth of food.

On the city wall, several mages and scholars stood side by side, gazing out at the vast stretches of cultivated fields, discussing the results of this farming effort.

"If everything goes smoothly, the grain produced from these fields should roughly meet the needs of the city's residents." A mage said with some relief.

"Let's hope so." Another mage nodded, though he still harbored some worry.

This was only the first year of the Sinking Fog season, and the decline in sunlight wasn't yet severe. But a few years from now, things might not be so certain.

The lack of sunlight wouldn't just cause crop yields to drop; temperatures would also plummet significantly. By then, many people might be freezing, and that would be another trial altogether.

.....

Northern Mage Alliance, Worze District

A cold air current swept through the region, shrouding the city in frost and snow. Dirty snow piled up on the streets, pedestrians wore worried expressions, and the whole city felt heavy and gloomy.

"Damn this weather! When will it ever end!" In a tavern, a bare-armed craftsman slammed his fist on the table, venting his frustration.

"It's June now! June! And the snow on the ground still hasn't melted! How are we supposed to live like this!" He grumbled, one hand gripping his wine cup before tipping it back and gulping down the contents with a gurgling sound.

"Alright, stop complaining. At least you can still make a living. Look at those laborers out on the streets, plenty of them have already frozen or starved to death." His companion patted him on the shoulder, trying to calm him down.

"Hah." The bare-armed craftsman set down his wine cup, his eyes bloodshot as he glanced around at the people nearby. He let out a heavy, labored breath, like a beast on the verge of going mad.

Just then, the tavern door swung open, and a figure in an old, worn cloak walked in, bringing with them the wind and snow from outside.

Everyone turned to look. It was a young mage in his early thirties, with fine snowflakes still clinging to his hair. ℯ

"Oh, it's Rogers! What, no work these days?" A familiar face in the tavern teased.

"Indeed, not much work lately." Rogers walked up to the bar, took a seat, and ordered a drink.

"No way, I thought you were a Third Tier mage. The more formal kind, not one of those self-taught types. Even you don't have work now?" Someone asked curiously.

"It's actually about the ruins we recently excavated. They're at the stage of unearthing artifacts now. Those scholars told us not to get too close, so they can carefully extract the corrupted and damaged items themselves."

"So, all of us auxiliary support staff got a vacation." Rogers picked up his wine cup, swirled it, and took a sip.

Hearing his explanation, everyone present showed looks of envy. After all, Rogers had joined an official archaeological team funded by the Alliance. Even if he was only an outer-hire employee, the treatment was far better than many other jobs. The important thing was that he received a batch of food supplies every week, and those weren't dry, hard flatbreads or moldy rations, but premium goods fit for a noble's table.

It wasn't just Rogers either. Grain prices across the Mage Alliance had skyrocketed, and being able to eat well every day was definitely a privilege that made others envious.

Facing the crowd's envious questions, Rogers just smiled without saying much more. He raised his cup, savoring the drink slowly, then glanced at his palm. A white reflective obsidian slowly rose, then spun, refracting a dazzling white glow.

"Obsidian Furnace" - that was his condensed Core Card. It could amplify his spells related to "Obsidian" arts, and among them were explosive-type spells. Since obsidian spell detonations were different from gunpowder, he could control the power with far greater precision. In the end, this ability had caught the archaeological team's eye.

He really was lucky. Rogers tucked away the obsidian and then recalled the scene years ago when he obtained the "Obsidian Codex" from that unknown young woman.

Come to think of it, he had visited Brennur many times afterward but never heard anything about any "Griffin School." He only managed to pick up a few leads from the organization "Turbid Dust Gale," who seemed to have encountered that fleeting young woman.

After obtaining the "Obsidian Codex," he had spent several years accumulating resources. Finally, three years ago, he completed his advancement and reached Third Tier strength. Not only did his life improve dramatically, but he could also use his earned gold coins to purchase books and courses, filling in the gaps in his foundational knowledge.

After three years of this, even though he had never studied in the three major academies, his foundation was now roughly on par with mages who had been trained there.

If he kept working hard, maybe in a few years he could apply to join a school's outer organization and obtain the related Advancement Secret Methods and knowledge. Rogers silently resolved in his heart.

A week later, the ruins in the Worze District wilderness were finally fully excavated. Rogers watched as the mages and scholars carefully packed up the artifacts and organized the collected materials.

"Are we done here?" He asked his companion curiously.

"Pretty much. This part is finished here, but I heard those scholars say that the things they found in the ruins have been deciphered and contain more leads. We might have to head to even more remote places afterward."

"I see. A little hardship is fine, what matters is having work." Rogers remarked.

"You said it." His companion nodded in agreement.

"I had a classmate who's unemployed now. Apparently the economy is bad, and a lot of workshops have shut down, especially those in the luxury goods industry."

"The hottest ones right now are probably those workshops supplying the Hidden Grove Alliance. The Alliance government has placed a ton of orders with them to trade for grain crops with the Hidden Grove."

"I even heard they're planning to expand their workshops recently, because the demand from the Hidden Grove side is growing steadily."

"That's good news." Rogers couldn't help but say.

The two of them chatted, moving from their current work to the state of the economy, then to the specialties of the Hidden Grove Alliance, then to whether witches were all beautiful, and finally back to the present, as the archaeologists and mages finished up for the day.

Rogers noticed a piece of paper slip from a scholar's hand. On it was sketched a lifelike serpent head pattern. Looking closer, the serpent didn't seem to be the great serpent that carried the continents, but rather a particularly venomous and cunning "Twin-Headed Serpent."

Ruins of the Twin-Snake Cult, huh. That thought flashed through Rogers's mind, and then he followed his companions as they left.