Upon hearing Alastir's words, everyone was stunned, especially Arnolt, who immediately responded with disbelief. "E-Excuse me?! The Count wants to meet us? This has to be a mistake, right?"
"There's no mistake," Alastir replied calmly. "The Count has come to discuss the Omen attack on your village and wishes to meet the warriors who defended it—you, Arnolt and Xiona Yorgir of Hingr Wynd."
"This is... a lot to take in. How does the Count even know our names?" Arnolt asked, still grappling with the news.
"I saw Grennyn enter the guild master's office earlier. He might have mentioned you guys," Jaaka chimed in.
Arnolt groaned in frustration. "That old man seriously needs to keep his mouth shut."
Before he could dwell on it further, Xiona grabbed his hand. "Come on, Arnolt. If the Count wants to see you, it must be for something good. Be confident."
"Indeed, Arnolt!" Tyrina added, her voice full of conviction. "The Count must have heard of your bravery during the attack. If he wishes to honor you, then meet him with confidence and pride."
"It's a good thing you got that cleaning service from Haeness, huh?" Jaaka said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, don't keep the man waiting—go on."
"Yes! And don't worry," Tyrina added, waving the quest paper and Sragneit teeth in her hands. "I'll deliver our quest report and wait for you guys here."
Arnolt let out a sigh. "Uhh… fine, let's go."
"Thank you. Please follow me," Alastir said, turning to lead the way.
Arnolt and Xiona left their weapons with Tyrina and followed Alastir to the guild master's office. Arnolt could not shake his fatigue and nervousness, while Xiona's eyes sparkled with excitement, eager to see what awaited them.
Alastir led the way down the dimly lit hallway, their footsteps echoing off the cold stone floor. The air was thick with anticipation, the weight of what awaited them pressing down on Arnolt and Xiona. When they reached the heavy wooden door of the guild master's office, Alastir paused and knocked firmly.
"My lord, guild master, we request to enter. I have brought the ones you seek," Alastir announced.
A deep voice from within responded, "Enter."
Alastir pushed open the door, revealing a spacious room dominated by a large wooden desk at the center. Behind it sat Guild Master Garthen, a burly man with a thick gray beard and sharp eyes that belied his age. To his left, Grennyn sat with a calm expression, though a subtle tension tightened his posture.
Besides Grennyn, occupying a seat of honor, was Count Dermeuelle. His presence was commanding yet not overbearing, his gaze immediately locking onto the two young people as they stepped into the room.
Arnolt and Xiona instinctively bowed low, their movements precise and respectful. "Count Dermeuelle," Arnolt began, his voice steady despite the anxiety knotting in his stomach. "I am Arnolt Yorgir, and this is my cousin, Xiona Yorgir. We are honored to meet you."
The Count inclined his head slightly, his expression unreadable but not unfriendly. "The honor is mine, young Yorgirs," he said, his voice smooth and authoritative. "I have heard much about your deeds."
Guild Master Garthen gestured for them to approach. "Come, take a seat," he said, his tone more familiar and reassuring. "We have much to discuss."
Arnolt and Xiona obeyed, taking the seats offered to them, while Alastir moved to stand quietly behind them. The room was thick with anticipation, the gravity of the situation settling over them like a heavy cloak.
Garthen cleared his throat and began, "My lord, as we discussed earlier, the guild will remain at the forefront in dealing with the Omens. Venatoria is well-equipped with the manpower and resources necessary to combat them."
Count Dermeuelle nodded but then gently dismissed the guild master's assertion. "I understand, Guild Master. Venatoria has always been the major force in fighting the Omens. However, this land—this county—remains my responsibility."
Arnolt and Xiona exchanged a brief, uncertain glance. They had not expected to find themselves in the middle of such a weighty discussion but remained silent, absorbing every word.
The Count continued, his tone somber. "The fact that an Omen nest has spawned within the lands under my jurisdiction... I cannot simply sit idle."
"If I may, my lord," Grennyn interjected, his voice steady. "Our new guests have just arrived and are unaware of our previous discussion. It might be best to start anew, with their involvement."
"Ah… of course. My apologies," the Count said, turning his attention to Arnolt and Xiona. "I realize this must be quite confusing, being summoned so suddenly. I'm sorry for any distress this may have caused."
"There's no need to apologize, my lord," Arnolt replied, doing his best to maintain a respectful tone. "We were simply following Lady Alastir's request to meet with you."
The Count glanced at Alastir, who momentarily seemed caught off guard by the mention of her name. She quickly regained her composure, the Count turned back to Arnolt. "Ah yes, I heard you were partaking a monster subjugation quest with a senior adventurer?"
"Yes, my lord," Guild Master Garthen answered for them. "I was the one who granted them permission to undertake it. And judging by their triumphant return, I assume the quest went very well."
Arnolt forced a smile, recalling how they were essentially pushed into doing it, while Xiona, oblivious to his thoughts, nodded eagerly. Her enthusiasm brought warm smiles from both Garthen and Grennyn.
"You must be truly talented," the Count remarked, his gaze warm but quickly shifting to a more somber expression.
"I know these are difficult times for both of you," he said, his voice heavy with empathy. "Such unfortunate circumstances should not befall anyone, let alone ones so young."
The Count hesitated for a moment before continuing, "I'm sorry to ask, but if you're willing, could you share what happened from your perspective? Of course, if it's too painful, you're under no obligation to speak."
Arnolt stared at the floor, his thoughts spiraling back to the tragic events that had shattered their lives. For a moment, the weight of it all threatened to overwhelm him. Xiona, noticing the struggle in her cousin's eyes, looked at him with concern. But after a deep breath, Arnolt steadied himself, his resolve hardening.
"Very well," Arnolt said, his voice quiet but determined. "I'll tell you what happened."
As Arnolt recounted the events, each detail weighed heavily with emotion, and the minutes passed in tense silence. When he finished, a somber stillness settled over the room.
Every face reflected sorrow, with Count Dermeuelle appearing especially burdened by the tragic account. Garthen's expression was one of deep concern, and he was the first to break the silence.
"A man-like Omen... I can't believe it. What else could be waiting to surprise us?" he murmured, his voice tinged with disbelief.
"That's not the only concern, Chief," Grennyn interjected, his tone serious. "The Omen nests are appearing much sooner than any of the records suggest."
Garthen nodded in agreement. "According to the old records, an event known as 'Violet's Day' is marked by a series of Omen attacks across the world, lasting for weeks at the start of a new century. They emerge from the shadows and begin assaulting human civilization, with Omen nests appearing two years before that prophesied day."
The room listened intently as Garthen continued. "That's how it's always been, recorded in every account. But now, we're facing something different. The first known Omen nest appeared this year, in 1294, six years before the upcoming Violet's Day in 1300, and four years earlier than any recorded appearances."
He paused, his voice heavy with concern. "With so many new threats emerging, I can only pray we make it through to the new century."
The room fell into silence once more. Garthen's gaze lingered on Arnolt for a moment before shifting to the Count, who had remained unusually quiet since Arnolt's story. Sensing the need to address the tension, Garthen spoke up, "My lord, Count Dermeuelle, I believe there's something you wish to discuss with Arnolt. Now might be the right time."
"Ah… Yes, thank you for the reminder, Guild Master," the Count replied, pulled from his somber thoughts.
Arnolt, surprised but composed, focused on the Count, waiting for what he had to say.
The seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity, filled with anticipation. Finally, the Count spoke, his voice clear and firm. "Arnolt Yorgir, I wish to recruit you into the Count's army."
Arnolt's eyes widened, stunned by the Count's announcement. He glanced around the room, searching for understanding—Garthen, Grennyn, and Alastir all seemed to have anticipated the Count's words. His gaze finally settled on Xiona, who looked more shocked than what he had felt. Her eyes were wide, and her hands trembled slightly. Arnolt could not begin to guess what was going through his cousin's mind, but he was caught in his own predicament.
He had to give the Count an answer.