The old capital of Harajard was a major city in the southernmost part of Haluar.
More than eight hundred years ago, it had been destroyed by the Barbarian army. After the war, its location proved far too indefensible, and too many people had died there. The Haluar people abandoned this city of sorrow and established a new capital three hundred miles to the north.
Still, some people had been unwilling to give up the once-fertile land and coastline. A number of residents built a new city thirty li south of the old capital, retaining its old name. When referring to those ruins, they called them the Old Capital.
Though the place remained indefensible, the legendary Barbarian king and his army of more than a hundred thousand had perished here. No one else dared lay a hand on land built by mages. The people lived and worked in peace in this new city; aside from the occasional foolish pirate, the greatest danger was the typhoon season.
Unlike the north, the south had no mountains, only coconut trees and date palms. Resisting storms was truly difficult.
Fortunately, there were still mages. Every summer, Veronica was practically stationed here, using the Mage Tower's powerful energy source alongside her spells to alter the weather and divert those mighty storms away from the city as much as possible.
But the weather was perfect now. The sea resembled an enormous sapphire, and the occasional wave over a meter high splashed into sprays of water that glittered beneath the afternoon sun.
A small skiff older than both of them bobbed gently with the waves. Du Pont adjusted his stance to steady his center of gravity. Squinting toward the distance, he saw the main ship—the sailing vessel carrying their entire expedition had become a tiny dot on the