Alice in the Land of Steam

Chapter 1382 Will we find a palace deep underground?

That's an ancient legend.

Before the Yalas United Empire noticed this nearby yet desolate land, there once existed a kingdom that ruled over thousands of barbarians, sinners, and descendants of exiles—the ancient Kingdom of Atorica, now unknown to anyone. The kingdom's last king built a summer palace called Malakasha for his most beloved wife, to soothe her hardships in this windswept land.

Legend has it that the palace's construction took an entire generation. Its interior was extravagantly luxurious, with white stone bricks and pine beams. An underground heating system operated year-round, and heated water was transported, stored, and evaporated through copper pipes throughout the palace, allowing for controlled temperature regulation—warm in winter and cool in summer. Furthermore, there were gardens planted with drought-resistant exotic flowers, palm trees, and fruit trees, with fountains or pools at their centers, their waters gurgling softly—a scene completely unlike anything found in deserts or wastelands.

The wealth, resources, and even lives lost during the construction were insignificant and not worth remembering. In short, both the king and his favorite concubine were satisfied, and thereafter spent their days indulging in pleasure and games at the summer palace, gradually forgetting, or rather, deliberately forgetting, state affairs. Naturally, ruling a weak, poor, and desolate country was far less important than using power to serve their own selfish desires.

But perhaps the seeds of trouble were sown from the very beginning of the palace's construction, or perhaps it was divine retribution for all those who acted recklessly; as a result, in a cataclysmic earthquake, Malaccasha Palace collapsed, the favored concubine perished in the disaster, while the king remained unharmed. Another consequence of the earthquake was the upheaval of the earth's strata, which cracked the surface and ultimately exposed a vast mineral vein that had been buried underground for thousands of years.

Yes, for the first time, the ancient and barren land of Atoliga saw the hope of prosperity.

But the king didn't seem to see it that way. Let's assume he was a man of deep emotions, deeply grieving the death of his beloved concubine, and in a fit of rage, exiled the surviving guards, servants, and even the artisans, slaves, and criminals who had built the palace to the mines to be buried with him. Afterwards, he seemed to descend into madness, relentlessly persecuting and slaughtering his people on various pretexts, throwing their corpses into the mines as if feeding a wild beast lurking underground that could never be satiated.

The final outcome was predictable: the people, filled with fear and anger, united to overthrow the king's rule, thus consigning the ancient Atorica Kingdom to history. However, after overthrowing the king, their wariness of each other made it difficult to unite and establish a new government. Without a unified leadership and scale, the exploitation and utilization of the mines was impossible, especially since these mines had been claiming lives for decades, becoming a symbol of misfortune and death in the eyes of the Atorica people. In the end, they chose to rebury the mines with sand, stones, and the ruins of the collapsed palace, returning to their ancient, secluded lives. Some say this is the origin of the many strange and barbarian tribes in the province of Atorica.

By now, you've probably guessed that the buried mine is the Feather Mine, which eventually fell into the hands of the Empire and resurfaced with the arrival of war. Sadly, whether a thousand years ago or a thousand years later, it seems to have brought only endless suffering… and resistance to the people of Atoliga.

Ironically, as a witness to this history and a symbol of all the tragedies, the Malaccasha Palace was not completely destroyed by the earthquake. Its ruins on the surface became the tombstones of countless people, while the part that was sunk underground miraculously remained in a relatively intact state until it was rediscovered by the imperial people when they developed the Fesser Mine a thousand years later. They were still amazed by its magnificent architectural style and luxurious interior decoration.

Ultimately, the palace ruins located between the 28th and 29th mining areas were developed into a separate zone and transformed into a resting area for dignitaries such as the mine manager, the commander-in-chief of the Blackfire Fortress, and rotating garrison officers. It is said that before the war escalated, many nobles and wealthy merchants with unique tastes traveled thousands of miles to the Fesser Mine just to see for themselves just how extravagant the palace, which was said to have indirectly led to the downfall of the ancient Atorica Kingdom, really was. Even the "love" between the king and his favorite concubine became a story worth praising.

Of course, this is just another unfounded embellishment by bards, who always tend to weave all the traces of blood and fire in history into romantic tales in their writings.

Time flows on, returning to this moment. Ling and his group are on their way to the summer palace, Malacasha. Their meeting with Commander Carol was extremely brief; they exchanged only a few simple pleasantries before parting ways. The commander returned to attend to his duties, while Ling and his group, led by Arnor, headed to the underground palace level to meet Cheryl, the leader of the Holy War Army. It's worth noting that only Arnor was responsible for guiding them; his companions had gone to rest after completing their mission. Ling's group, however, brought quite a few people. Besides him and Medien, almost the entire Princess of the Mine Kingdom was present, even the usually withdrawn Ietta, who especially disliked the cramped environment of mines, had come along—or rather, been dragged along.

"We've finally arrived in a new place, so let's go for a walk." Forcibly linking her arm with the angel's, Lorena said with a smile, "Anyway, the curse is gone, so what are you afraid of, Ietta?"

"Waaah!" the angel cried out, her wings trembling slightly. "The air here is so stuffy, and... I've got dust on my skin, I won't be able to wash it off when I get back tonight..."

"It's okay." Lorona didn't think it was a big problem, after all, "Siesta will help you wash."

That being said, it's not really appropriate to keep bothering others, is it? Ietta wanted to say that, but when she saw Rorona's smiling face, she hesitated to say it. What if the other woman suddenly said, "Then let me help you wash up?" Just thinking about the alchemist's magical little gadgets made Ietta shudder, and she felt that just going out for a stroll didn't seem like such a big deal.

"Sorry." Walking in front and listening to their conversation, Arnor felt a little embarrassed: "The mine originally had an Imperial air purification system, but it was damaged in the past battles. And these things aren't very durable, so..."

Most of the Jihad soldiers were originally miners, accustomed to the polluted air inside, so they didn't need to adapt. Maintaining weapons and fortifications was far more important. Ling understood and believed Ieta wasn't complaining, just saying it casually. Didn't she see Ovira acting as if nothing was wrong? In the past, this deep, dark environment was her greatest psychological trauma.

Seemingly sensing the young man's gaze, Princess Beman turned her head and gave him a bright smile in the dim darkness.

Their teeth are so white they're almost blinding.

Linger silently withdrew his gaze, and Ovira's smile vanished instantly, replaced by puffed-out cheeks.

Arnor's voice, describing the fortifications and facilities along the way, echoed through the vast hollow. Beside him lay bottomless darkness. A massive elevator platform slowly descended, the grating sound of metal scraping against metal reverberating in the deep well, accompanied by the heavy rhythm of chains and gears meshing, as if being swallowed by a silent, colossal metal beast. Downward, and still downward; though only thirty stories deep, it felt like it would never stop.

The light gradually dimmed, with only the pale, weak glow cast by the fluorescent lights hanging at the four corners of the platform, barely illuminating the rusty steel plates beneath our feet. The air became murky and heavy, filled with the mixed smells of metal shavings, dust, and sweat; each breath carried a rough, oppressive sensation, pressing against our chests.

The elevator platform traversed layer after layer of mining areas. In the fleeting flashes of light, Ling could see the intricate structure inside the shaft: massive steel supports, like the ribs of a behemoth, held the rock strata together; on the crisscrossing tracks, mine carts laden with unprocessed ore rumbled past, sparks flying from the friction of their wheels against the rails; deeper still, dense scaffolding and temporary platforms clung to the shaft walls, the figures of workers moving slowly among them, like worker ants clinging to a giant nest, small yet resilient. In the distance, from the darkness, the occasional dull thuds of hammering, the roar of machinery, and indistinct shouts echoed, these sounds weaving and reverberating in the vast underground space, forming a never-ending symphony.

There are three main sources of light: first, the fluorite lamps embedded in the rock walls or supports, which provide stable but dim illumination, outlining the cold contours of the massive structure; second, the headlamps on the miners' helmets, with solitary beams of light flickering in the darkness like wandering fireflies; and in the deepest passage, the dark red light of furnaces or smelting sites occasionally flashes, illuminating the busy figures around them as silhouettes, and the scorching heat can be faintly felt even from a distance.

The further down you go, the rougher and more rudimentary the traces of human excavation become, likely due to insufficient manpower for maintenance. In the areas controlled by the Jihad Army, fortifications are mostly reinforced with recycled metal plates, wood, and even boulders, exuding a pragmatic, patchwork feel, but their advantage lies in their cheapness and sturdiness. Along the passageways, one often sees brightly painted emblems of the holy sword and dragon wings, along with morale-boosting slogans. The patrolling soldiers are of mixed equipment, their expressions wary and weary, but most of them possess a resolute glint in their eyes.

The elevator finally came to a stop with a heavy thud. Arnor stepped out first, followed by Ling and the others, entering a passage distinctly different from the upper level. The atmosphere subtly shifted; the dust and heat of the air were gradually replaced by a cool, even slightly damp, scent. The rough rock walls and steel supports were replaced by neat stone brick walls. Although the bricks were still covered with an unavoidable layer of mineral dust, their original texture and color were still faintly discernible. The overhead lighting changed from dim fluorite lamps to oil lamps with glass shades embedded in niches. The light, while still not bright, was much softer, casting a warm glow.

The passageway gradually widened and became cleaner, even showing the beginnings of decorative arches and columns. The omnipresent noise of the mine became distant and indistinct, as if isolated by thick walls and some mysterious force. An eerie tranquility permeated the air, creating an increasingly stark contrast with the noisy, rough world above, filled with sweat and fire. Finally, they stopped before a massive double door, so large that it could only be slowly opened by using a mechanism beside it, pulled together by hinges and gears.

In an instant, it felt as if time and space had been traversed.

The scene that unfolded behind the door left even Ling, who had become accustomed to extravagance, grandeur, and magnificence since embarking on his journey, momentarily disoriented. The main hall floor was covered with worn but still exquisite mosaics depicting desert oases, exotic flowers, and hunting scenes; the towering dome was supported by white stone pillars, each carved with intricate spiral patterns; the once vibrant murals on the walls, though faded, still hinted at their former splendor; the sound of flowing water drifted through the air, and in the center of the hall was even a still-operating fountain, its clear water shimmering under the soft, magical lights; the air was filled with an ancient scent reminiscent of sandalwood, completely masking the dust and metallic smell from the depths of the mine.

The temperature was pleasantly cool, a stark contrast to the scorching heat on the surface and the stifling heat underground.

This is the Malaccasha Palace, a place of luxury and pleasure from a thousand years ago. After swallowing countless lives and enduring collapse and burial, it miraculously survived deep within the mines. But its existence only proves that a civilization once existed on this ancient land, and bears no responsibility for those who built it or those who later unearthed it. Ling thought that unless one lived in this palace, others would rather it had never existed.

However, Cheryl, the leader of the Jihad Army, was waiting for her guests inside the palace.

"Please don't misunderstand, Lord Ling, and everyone else."

Arnor explained to everyone at the opportune moment: "Lady Cheryl does not usually live in the detached palace. She usually rests in her office or barracks. It's just that she has moved here temporarily for some reason recently."

"Some reason?" Linger keenly grasped what Arnor truly meant and raised an eyebrow slightly. "Could I know the specific reason?"

"Lady Cheryl will explain."

Arnor seemed to know the inside story, but was unwilling to say more, or rather, he couldn't speak frankly.

Since that's the case, Lin Ge won't ask any more questions, since he'll know the answer soon anyway.

"Please follow me, everyone."

Arnor led the way, with the others following closely behind.

Give me some cats