When the envoy group was officially received, the sky was already dark, but the city was as bright as day.
Magic stone lamps ford an arc along the main street, extending to the tower of the administrative district.
Sorel was led into the administrative center building.
The heavy door opened with a gentle push, not even a sound from the hinges.
Waiting at the door for him was an elderly man with gray hair, dressed impeccably — Bradley.
This elder responsible for the Red Tide City’s administrative hub exuded a calm that was utterly mismatched with the Northern Territory.
Bradley bowed slightly, with a deanor neither servile nor overbearing: "Welco, Lord Sorel."
Sorel noticed that every movent was just right, yet lacked the flattery nobles typically give to royal envoys.
He instinctively straightened his back: "Where is Count Louis Calvin? I have important business to discuss with him during this trip."
Bradley maintained his gentle yet aloof attitude: "The Count is inspecting new mineral veins and glacier routes, his return date is uncertain, it may take about ten to fifteen days."
Sorel was stunned for half a second, instinctively looking for signs of deliberate obstruction on the other’s face, but found none.
He sneered inwardly: "Hmph, making wait."
Having been in diplomacy for years, he imdiately recognized this as a classic show of power, neither eting, nor refusal, nor explanation.
You want to negotiate? Then wait first.
Yet Sorel did not get angry, as the roads were blocked by snow, he had not planned to leave within ten days; his original plan was to stay until spring before departing from Red Tide City.
Sorel smiled and expressed understanding: "Just as well, I can take this opportunity to appreciate the splendor of the Northern Pearl."
"Certainly," Bradley nodded slightly, calmly, "except for the military zones marked with red signs, Red Tide City is fully open to you."
Sorel beca even more curious, but he did not express it, rely smiling: "Then I will await here."
Bradley gestured invitingly: "Your accommodation is ready. Should you need anything, please inform the steward."
Sorel was guided into the depths of the reception hall, increasingly feeling the floor beneath his feet unlike stone or wood.
Each step was stable, warm, even slightly heated.
When he pushed the door open, that "strange warmth" completely enveloped him.
There was no fireplace, no brazier, no fire in the room.
Yet the air was as warm as spring.
He walked in, instinctively reaching out to touch the wall.
The touch was of warm stone, as if baked by a stove, yet not a localized heat, but the entire wall gently radiating warmth, the floor beneath was the sa.
"...What is this?" Sorel frowned.
The attendant accompanying him was surprised too: "Lord, there’s no fire here."
Bradley stood at the door, his tone steady: "This city uses geothermal channels and centralized heating, you need not worry about temperature during your stay."
Geothermal, centralized heating.
Sorel had never heard of these terms, like so fresh and awkward concepts.
Anyway, he had never seen such things anywhere in the Empire.
Not only was the room warm, but even the air was clean, without moldy sll or dampness.
Fresh hot water was placed on the table, the wardrobe contained wool coats and dry leather gloves, the bed more comfortable than the Royal Guest Room in the Imperial Capital.
Sorel was silent for a long ti.
He was not moved by the warmth, what he saw was sothing more terrifying, energy redundancy.
While other territories in the Northern Territory ticulously count every bundle of firewood, here they can make the floors and entire walls of guest rooms heat up.
This ant Red Tide’s fuel reserves were abundant enough to squander, their mastery of coal output, transport efficiency, and energy storage far exceeding any force in the Northern Territory.
This ant they did not fear the cold or winter, while winter in the Northern Territory had always been the sharpest blade against this land.
Sorel sat in the chair, hand on his forehead, his heart thumping a few beats.
Bradley spoke softly: "You’ve had a tiring journey, you may rest first. I’ll arrange for soone to report daily on Lord’s itinerary progress."
Sorel looked up, seeing that the other’s expression was still polite without any gaps.
In that expression was a peculiar disparity.
Not being despised, but being treated as a visitor received according to procedure, not as the Empire’s envoy.
"I understand." Sorel said softly.
......
The next morning, Sorel donned a light-colored cloak prepared by his attendant, lowered the brim of his hat, and walked onto the street with two bodyguards.
He didn’t report, didn’t bring the accompanying team, like a Southern noble simply traveling, just to see the city.
The snow was still heavy, falling like goose feathers, pressing distant eaves into white lines.
Yet the road beneath his feet seed completely unseasonal.
The three-segnt main street was spacious and straight, snow falling on the ground lted into water in less than a second, flowing along well-laid drainage ditches to the roadside.
No snow accumulation, no mud, and no common winter hard ice blocks.
Sorel crouched down, fingers near the gaps between the paving stones, felt a faint warmth.
He frowned: "Like the house, is the road heating below?"
The attendant was perplexed: "Lord, is it magic?"
"No." Sorel withdrew his hand, stood up.
He recalled the guest room walls of Red Tide City emitting warmth, then linked it to the main street below his feet that didn’t freeze, the entire line connected instantly...
Red Tide laid heating channels under the roads, transmitting so kind of thermal energy from the city center to all main streets.
Ordinary people only see that walking won’t slip.
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