Smith Returns from Middle Earth

White Eagle Port was as damp as ever in the early morning, even in this winter cold enough to freeze water solid. The damp, chilly air made the early risers feel frozen to the bone. They hunched their shoulders and pulled their collars tight.

The rising sun slowly climbed above the horizon, tinting the clouds at the edge of the sky red and bringing people a hint of warmth.

Sailors disembarked from a fishing boat that had just come alongside and hurriedly carried basket after basket of fresh fish ashore. A crowd of fishmongers immediately gathered around them, asking about their catch and the price of the fish.

Carriages carrying grain, fruits, and vegetables from the south regularly rolled into the city, while cartloads of ore and local specialties came from the city and were loaded onto ships bound for Middle Earth.

White Eagle Port was the New Continent's northernmost natural ice-free harbor. It stood at the mouth of the broad Har River, sheltered from wind and waves by White Eagle Bay, making it a natural deepwater port. When the famous explorer, the Grand Duke of White Eagle, first landed here, he saw a great bald eagle pass overhead and decided to build a city on the spot. His Family adopted the white eagle as its crest. The bay, the port, and even the mighty city at the river's mouth all bore the name White Eagle.

Westerly winds blew here all year round, and they grew stronger once ships reached the Outer Sea. Heavy cargo sailing ships could make for Middle Earth at twenty knots. The newly built clipper ships of Middle Earth could even reach the astonishing speed of thirty knots, crossing the Storm Ocean that separated the New and Old Continents in a little over ten days. White Eagle Port had thus become a bustling harbor connecting the two continents.

A wooden steam sailing ship appeared on the distant eastern horizon. It was a huge three-masted vessel, with a pair of wheels on either side, half submerged and churning the water. Its sails were furled, and it moved entirely under the power of the wheels. As it slowly approached the harbor, it sounded its steam whistle twice, long and loud.

A customs launch immediately rowed out to inspect it. Before long, the vessel slowly drew alongside the pier, guided by the launch.

The sailors lowered the gangway, and passengers began emerging from their cabins on the upper deck and making their way down. The captain, dressed in his finest clothes and wearing a Tricorn Hat, stood by, stroking his carefully groomed, bushy mustache and smiling as he greeted each passenger with such empty pleasantries as, "I hope you had a pleasant journey." Meanwhile, the shrewd and capable first mate had already gone ashore and was organizing several dock foremen who had been chatting nearby to unload the cargo.

Led by customs officials, the disembarking passengers formed a long line and headed for the Office Hall to complete their entry formalities. Of course, well-dressed gentlemen and ladies were ushered by their servants to the special VIP passage reserved for the upper class. After a few simple formalities, they could leave customs, climb into the carriages that had been waiting for them, and ride off. Ordinary people, many of them traveling with their families, waited in the long line with heavy luggage slung over their backs or carried in their hands.

Before long, there were no more VIPs to process in the special passage. Miss Harris, who was in charge of admitting travelers through it, had some free time. She stood up and looked at the long line of ordinary passengers outside the counter, her lovely brows drawing together slightly. Then she said to the guard beside her:

"John, there are so many more people coming from Middle Earth this year. They're all new immigrants, aren't they? We've never had this many families move here before."

John, a guard in a sapphire-blue customs uniform and a tall silver helmet, nodded. "Yes. There's a war going on over in Middle Earth. I hear five or six countries have been drawn into it already. Lots of people are selling everything they own and coming to the New Continent to try their luck. It's better than losing their lives in the war without knowing what hit them."

"Then why don't they go south? The land there is fertile. They say you can grow three crops a year. And the cities of the Southern League have a rule that any unclaimed land you cultivate becomes yours. Surely that's better than coming here to work as miners or cowboys?"

"Heh, I heard the sailors talking at the bar a couple of days ago. Tickets from Middle Earth are impossible to come by these days. If you can buy a ticket to the New Continent, people will snatch it up no matter where you're headed."

As they chatted, the last passenger came down the gangway and slowly made his way toward the VIP passage.

He was a young man. On his head was a dark gray bowler hat, the style popular in Middle Earth. He wore a latest-fashion dark gray suit with simple stripes, topped with a khaki trench coat. But on his feet were a pair of long leather boots, the kind favored on the New Continent. His outfit was a strange mix of styles.

He was tall and a little thin. His lean face was long and sharply defined, but his handsome blue eyes gave him a rather dashing look. What drew the most attention was the enormous suitcase he was pulling. It was nearly half his height, with a retractable handle on one side and four wheels underneath. Though it looked stuffed full and quite heavy, the young man pulled it along the harbor's stone road with one hand and little effort.

The young man wheeled his suitcase up to the VIP counter, took off his hat, revealing short brown hair, and bowed to Miss Harris before handing over his papers.

Miss Harris accepted them. She was just about to examine them when the guard beside her, John, glanced at the design on the document. The young man's passport had a blue cover stamped with the national bald eagle emblem, but no gold trim to signify noble status. John immediately snapped, "Hey, kid. Don't you know the rules? Get in line at the ordinary-passenger window."

The young man smiled and opened the left side of his trench coat. On his suit beneath it was a small, round gold badge.

The badge depicted a pair of scales, with a bottle of potion on one side and a pile of Gold Ingots on the other.

Miss Harris's light gray eyes flickered when she saw the badge.

"Oh, I'm sorry,"

she said quickly, lowering her head and reading the name on the passport:

"Mr. Edward Smith, you are a respected Alchemist."

"Not quite. I'm still an Alchemist Apprentice," the young man replied with a smile.

"Are you back to visit your family?"

Miss Harris asked. After all, practitioners such as Mages and Alchemists were in high demand in Middle Earth. Not a single practitioner who had completed their studies there had returned yet. She had heard that Middle Earth offered practitioners far more opportunities and better salaries than the New Continent did. Besides, only Middle Earth could provide them with the full range of materials needed to advance. It was no exaggeration to call the New Continent a wasteland for practitioners.

"I'm not leaving again. My home is here, after all. And there's a war going on in Middle Earth. I'm just a lowly Alchemist Apprentice. I don't want to throw my life away on the battlefield," Edward said with a smile.

"Then welcome home, Mr. Smith." Miss Harris cheerfully stamped a blue entry seal in Edward's passport and handed it back to him with both hands.

Edward Smith took his passport and slipped it into his coat pocket. Then he pulled his coat tight, put on his hat, and nodded with a smile to Miss Harris and Guard John. There was no grandstanding or comeuppance like in the old novels. He simply took hold of his big suitcase and walked out of White Eagle Port's customs hall.

Once outside the harbor, Edward turned up his coat collar. It really was cold. Resting a hand on his enormous suitcase, he looked around. To the west of the harbor stood the familiar walls of White Eagle City. The city gates were only a hundred meters or so from the port.

A straight stone road led to the city gates. Just as he pulled his suitcase forward to set off, a carriage slowly approached from the side. It was a passenger carriage with a black cabin and four tall wheels, one at each corner—clearly modeled after the rental carriages of Middle Earth. But compared with those of the Old Continent, its workmanship was rather rough. The coachman sat high on the driver's bench at the front. He looked to be in his forties or fifties. Unlike the drivers of Middle Earth's rental carriages, who wore the standard black coat and bowler hat, he had on blue Denim Overalls and the distinctive cowboy hat of the northern New Continent. His red hair and beard were a tangled mess, like a ball of fluff.

The coachman called to Edward's back. "Sir, would you like a ride in my carriage?"

Edward turned around, recognized the driver, and smiled.

"Uncle Delton, do you remember me? I'm Edward. Edward Smith."

"You're little Edward?" The coachman's shaggy face broke into a hearty grin the moment he recognized him. He called out loudly, "Hey, little Edward, what are you doing back here? Come on, hop in! I'll take you home."

As he spoke, Coachman Delton jumped down and reached out warmly to pick up Edward's suitcase. He tried to lift it onto the luggage rack on the carriage roof, but the case was extremely heavy. Delton tried twice, and couldn't get it off the ground.

"It's a bit heavy. It's full of equipment I brought back from Middle Earth. Let's put it inside the carriage instead," Edward explained with a smile. He pulled the suitcase over, lifted it, and set it inside through the open carriage door.

Edward didn't climb into the carriage. Instead, he and the coachman, Delton, hopped up onto the high driver's bench and sat side by side. Delton flicked the reins in his hands and shouted, "Hyah!" The two Quarter Horses pulling the carriage slowly set off toward the city gates.

"Little Edward, we old neighbors were all very sorry about what happened to your parents."

As he spoke, the old coachman patted Edward on the thigh and continued:

"We all thought that once you became a great Mage—and especially after your parents were gone—you'd never come back to the New Continent. I never expected you'd return. You're staying this time, right?"

"Yes, Uncle Delton. I'm not leaving again. The war in Middle Earth is about to spread across the whole continent. I hear all the low-ranking professionals are being sent to the front. Rather than go to the battlefield and end up as cannon fodder, I thought I'd come back to the New Continent, where there are more opportunities. I came straight back as soon as I graduated. I'm planning to reopen my parents' shop."

As the two chatted, the carriage passed through the city gate. The guards saw Delton's carriage but didn't stop it to ask questions. They greeted Delton warmly instead.

Once inside the city gates, the carriage turned left onto a street running along the city wall. The wall stood on one side of the street, and small shops selling odds and ends such as fishing nets and baskets lined the other. The carriage continued all the way to the end of the street.

At the end stood a shop facing the street, separate from the other buildings.

The city wall ended here, where it met a tall rocky mountain. The Grand Duke of White Eagle had chosen this spot for the harbor because of this stretch of mountains.

The mountains formed a line of high cliffs facing the sea. There was only one stretch of golden beach, at the gates of White Eagle City. Building the wall here made the city easy to defend and difficult to attack. White Eagle City had been built in the basin among these mountains.

Scholars who studied the area in the past said that the Har River had once flowed into the sea here. It had carved an opening through the mountain range, but later silt had built up and the river changed course. The Har River now entered the sea to the north of White Eagle City.

Edward jumped down from the carriage, took out his luggage, and said goodbye to Delton, who called out that he should come over for dinner that evening. Then he turned to look at the dilapidated storefront. Its sign showed a hammer, with the words "Blacksmith Shop" painted above it.

"I'm finally home..."