Gawain and his team traveled through Tanzan Town, making their way to the estate of Viscount Andrew. This region was rich in fertile soil and surrounded by rivers, naturally making it a prosperous land. However, as they approached, a heavy, oppressive atmosphere seemed to linger in the air, evoking an unsettling feeling among them.
The Viscount's estate was an ancient and imposing castle, with towering walls and a fortified gate exuding a sense of defense and vigilance. Upon Gawain's arrival, he was promptly escorted into the castle's grand hall, where Viscount Andrew awaited.
The Viscount, a man approaching fifty, was a robust figure with an air of authority. His face, etched with the marks of time, reflected years of experience. He sat on a high-backed chair, his gaze sharp as he scrutinized Gawain and his entourage. A flicker of surprise and doubt passed over his eyes when he recognized Gawain's crest.
"The Cecil family crest? I thought that house had long vanished into history," Viscount Andrew remarked in a calm, low voice.
Gawain smiled slightly and nodded. "Yes, my lord. The Cecil family has indeed been through many trials, but we have not disappeared. I return with my descendants now to protect our lands and people."
The Viscount's brow furrowed as he examined Gawain, seemingly assessing his true identity and intentions. "Then tell me, what brings you here?"
Gawain met the Viscount's gaze directly, answering with sincerity, "I am here to discuss the Shadow Realm's encroaching forces. I traveled from Cecil territory and saw firsthand the signs of this dark power spreading along the kingdom's borders, threatening even Ansur itself."
Hearing this, the Viscount's expression grew serious. After a brief silence, he nodded. "I have also heard strange reports. Recently, there have been disappearances and odd occurrences in my lands, and even my soldiers have noticed something amiss. But whether this is truly the Shadow Realm at work remains unproven."
Herty stepped in, speaking earnestly. "My lord, we have seen shadows firsthand in Tanzan Town. They brought terror and disaster, nearly unstoppable. Their power is far beyond that of ordinary spirits, with a particularly potent, corrupting influence."
The Viscount's face shifted as he listened, his gaze now tinged with concern. He looked at Gawain, skepticism apparent in his eyes. "Gawain Cecil, you claim to be a descendant of the Cecil family, yet how is it you know so much about these secrets of the Shadow Realm? This is not knowledge accessible to the common person."
Gawain held his ground, replying calmly, "This is the legacy of my family. For generations, the Cecils have shouldered the duty of protecting Ansur, and I am merely fulfilling the uncompleted mission of my ancestors."
The Viscount scrutinized Gawain's unwavering expression, seemingly searching for any sign of deception. At length, he nodded, appearing somewhat convinced by Gawain's explanation.
"Very well," the Viscount said. "What do you want from me?"
"Firstly, we need to strengthen the defenses around the territory, particularly to guard against incursions from these shadow creatures," Gawain suggested. "Additionally, if possible, I would ask you to assign a contingent of trustworthy soldiers to assist us in investigating the unusual activities within your lands, to identify the source of this dark power."
The Viscount thought this over, eventually nodding in agreement, though he stipulated that Gawain's team must closely coordinate with his own troops to ensure the security of the region.
With the arrangement finalized, the Viscount dispatched a squad of elite soldiers under the command of his lieutenant, Sir Roger. A seasoned warrior, Sir Roger was well-versed in the local terrain and defensive installations. He reported recent disturbances around the territory, including the disappearance of livestock from several villages and strange noises at night.
"From what you describe, the Shadow Realm's influence may already be infiltrating our surroundings," Gawain analyzed calmly. "These disturbances could be just the beginning, with the real danger lurking below the surface."
Sir Roger nodded in agreement, a flicker of worry crossing his face. He led the group to the areas where the disturbances had occurred, with Herty and Amber maintaining high alert, prepared for any sudden danger.
Near the border of the Viscount's territory, they came across a ravaged village. The villagers recounted terrifying sightings of shadows and whispers at night, describing those eerie creatures in chilling detail. Listening intently, Gawain began to sense a connection between these shadows and the Shadow Realm's dark forces.
As their investigation progressed, Gawain realized that the power of the Shadow Realm was gathering. A sinister conspiracy was slowly emerging, and they had little time to act.
Upon returning to the castle, Gawain reported his findings to Viscount Andrew, urging him to take immediate action. The Viscount took a deep breath, his gaze resolute as he ordered a full-scale reinforcement of the territory's defenses and increased patrols throughout the lands.
"Gawain Cecil, if what you say is true, we are facing an unprecedented threat," the Viscount said solemnly. "In this war, the Cecil family and my lands will stand together."
Gawain gave a slight nod, determination flashing in his eyes. "No matter the dangers ahead, I will uphold my duty. The bloodline of the Cecil family has never bowed, and it will not start now."
As night fell, the Viscount's castle stood solemn and formidable against the darkened sky. Gawain and his team made their preparations within its walls, awaiting the battles yet to come.
If there was anything in Tanzan Town that gave Gawain a glimpse of elegance and charm in this strange world, it was the wealthy district north of the town center. Separated from the impoverished areas by streets and walls, this cleaner, more refined neighborhood housed those of influence and status.
Here, elegant two-story houses constructed from pale gray stone and cedar stood proudly. Each house featured balconies where dried fish and cured meats hung, unmistakable signs of wealth and comfort.
While Tanzan Town was merely a town rather than a city, those living in the wealthy district prided themselves as citizens. They were the affluent farmers and overseers of the local mines, influential individuals who could afford the taxes and took pride in their respectable jobs.
Today, these notable individuals stood on their balconies among the dried fish and cured meats, discussing recent events. Even the slightest newsworthy incident was worth discussing at length, and nothing was more riveting than the recent catastrophe at Cecil.
As Tanzan and its surrounding lands fell under Viscount Andrew's rule, Cecil's territory lay just beyond his. Although the prosperous areas of the two domains were separated by stretches of desolate land, there were roads connecting them. Thus, even in an era when news traveled slowly, word of the disaster that had befallen Cecil spread swiftly throughout Tanzan.
Initially, a group of refugees arrived in the town, led by a knight and several soldiers, bearing the grim news of monstrous invasions and elemental chaos that had obliterated Cecil. At first, the townspeople dismissed the story as a bard's tall tale, a distant horror. Yet, when the refugees entered Tanzan with bedraggled soldiers, and the Viscount himself ordered stricter curfews and additional patrols, the townspeople knew it was no fabrication.
Thus, the tragedy in Cecil shifted from casual gossip to a topic of genuine concern, discussed with serious faces against a backdrop of drying fish and salted meats.
As the townsfolk speculated over Cecil's fate, Gawain Cecil had already traversed the wealthy district and entered the Viscount's castle.
Inside the Viscount's luxurious estate, where wealth flourished despite the poverty beyond its walls, Gawain found himself seated in a well-lit reception room, waiting for the Viscount's audience.
Sitting in a plush velvet chair, surrounded by silver tea sets, Gawain's thoughts drifted to the emaciated villagers and dilapidated houses outside. His initial fascination with this fantasy world, with its knights and magic, had long since faded into disillusionment.
"Ancestor," whispered Rebecca beside him, nudging his elbow. "How should we introduce you?"
"As we discussed," Gawain replied, keeping his voice steady. "We'll keep it formal here."
"Ancestor," added Herty, glancing toward Amber, "are you sure she's suited to be here?"
Across from Gawain, Amber sat transfixed by the silver teacups, slowly slipping one into her pouch. Catching Gawain's gaze, she reluctantly emptied her pouch onto the table, revealing not only the teacup but also an assortment of silver spoons, two goblets, and a pilfered monocle from the butler's pocket.
Gawain shot her a look, whispering, "Amber!"
"Sorry!" Amber returned the pilfered items sheepishly.
At that moment, the doors opened, and Viscount Andrew finally entered the room.
The tall man strode into the hall, dressed in a tailored, long black coat. His short, slicked-back hair gleamed with scented oils, and his thin mustache gave his pale face a haughty, elegant air. Nobles without a natural aptitude for magic or combat often relied on elixirs to "heighten perception," though overuse often left them with a ghostly pallor. To Andrew and his ilk, however, this appearance was a badge of their nobility.
"Oh, the beautiful Lady Herty and equally lovely Lady Rebecca! I apologize for the delay," the Viscount proclaimed with theatrical flair, his voice exaggerated in apology. "The news from Cecil has spread across my lands, and my time is consumed with
arranging defenses and hearing patrol reports."
Gawain quietly muttered, "Do all nobles talk in such tones nowadays?"
Rebecca whispered, "Weren't the nobles in your day like this?"
"Hardly. Back then, we'd hash out matters over a stiff drink at the tavern."
"Indeed," Herty agreed with a slight nod. She stood to address the Viscount, giving him a diplomatic reminder. "My lord, as the titleholder of Cecil, Rebecca is 'Viscount Rebecca' here, not merely 'Lady Rebecca.'"
Rebecca rose and gave Viscount Andrew a proper bow. "Thank you for your hospitality, Viscount Andrew."
The Viscount acknowledged the correction with a nod. "I deeply regret what happened in Cecil—truly a disaster. But it is heartening to see the family line continues."
After a round of formal courtesies, Rebecca tactfully shifted the conversation. "Before the fall of our castle, Sir Philip led an evacuation to this town. As per the law established by our kingdom's founders, those fleeing should receive your protection. Might I ask how they are faring?"
"Indeed, the law is sacred," Viscount Andrew affirmed, his tone now more serious. "Though my domain is small, I'm fully able to assist a neighboring noble in need. Sir Philip is still recovering at the church, and the soldiers and villagers are safe within my walls. Not one has starved or suffered from the cold."
Refugees would remain a debt, calculated per person, to be paid back to the Viscount. Rebecca, sensing the mounting responsibility, exchanged a tense look with Gawain. If only she could pawn a few of her ancestor's antique relics to cover it all.