Rebecca was startled upon hearing her name, her first reaction was an instinctive jolt. For this young heiress from a fallen noble family, the setting she now found herself in was something beyond her imagination. Even the times she had gone as a child to fight wolves in the woods never gave her the feeling of unreality that this occasion did. Watching her ancestor engage effortlessly with these high-ranking figures, she almost forgot that she was also a key participant in this gathering.
However, if there was one thing Rebecca excelled at, it was her unbreakable resolve. Despite her bewilderment, she managed to collect herself with remarkable composure. After taking a brief moment to gather her thoughts, this young noble from the southern countryside began recounting the nightmare that had descended upon Cecil's territory to the King and other dignitaries.
Her story immediately captured the audience's attention. They listened with rapt focus, despite not expecting someone so young to deliver such an account. But the gravity of the calamity she described rendered them silent.
Those present were already somewhat informed about the incident at the southern border, having caught wind of various rumors circulating the region. The disaster had stirred whispers throughout the southern territories, with varying versions of the story taking shape. Of course, this was not solely due to Gawain's influence, as his primary focus had been on disseminating news of his own "resurrection" rather than emphasizing the catastrophe itself. Yet, by its very nature, calamity serves as an excellent catalyst for gossip, and within two months, news of the incident had permeated the south.
The general populace might have limited means of verifying the truth, but nobles were not so constrained. Through various channels, each person at the table had gained some understanding of what had transpired. King Francis II himself had received reports from numerous nobles in the south, yet no report, however detailed, could compare to a firsthand account.
Rebecca's voice grew more confident as she continued, methodically piecing together the events and connecting them to the Dark Tide from seven centuries past. The appearance of a dragon at the end added an enigmatic layer to the narrative. As Gawain observed the furrowed brows of the King and other nobles, he let out a quiet sigh. They had initially focused on his unexpected return and speculated on Cecil's motives in the royal court, seemingly forgetting that the primary reason for their journey to the capital was to report these monstrous threats. Still, he could hardly blame them, given that he had gone out of his way to amplify his own presence in the matter.
"…Much of Cecil's territory is now scorched earth. The dragon's fire is infused with magic, rendering the land barren for years. My people are now dependent on Viscount Grumman's charity for survival," Rebecca stated, her earlier nerves vanishing as she clasped her fists resolutely. "Your Majesty, my lords, while the Cecil fief may be small, this catastrophe is a clear warning. The motives of the dragon may be unclear, but the threat posed by the creatures is undeniable. These creatures emerged seven hundred years ago and brought about the collapse of the Gondor Empire—my ancestor witnessed it firsthand."
King Francis II began conferring in hushed tones with his Grand Chancellor and the Duchess of the North. Several others also exchanged brief discussions. It was evident that Rebecca's report was not taken lightly. For this, she could thank the widespread rumors, letters from the southern nobles, and Gawain's presence. Without these elements, the claims of a rural noblewoman that her territory had been decimated by monsters and dragons would likely have been met with scorn or worse.
However, the extent of their response and the weight they would place on this threat remained uncertain. After all, this world had known peace for centuries.
"Duke Cecil," the tall, slender man seated a few seats to Gawain's left spoke up. This was Baldwin Franklin, Duke of the West, a scholarly and refined nobleman. "I trust the integrity of your heiress, but the nature of this report is extraordinary. If I may ask, are these creatures indeed the very same from the Dark Tide?"
"I battled those creatures for twenty years, until my own death—I'd recognize them even if they were reduced to ashes," Gawain replied firmly. "I've fought them again and can confirm that these creatures are identical to those that emerged from the Dark Tide. Unfortunately, they disintegrate swiftly upon death, leaving no remains for study, and the dragon that followed incinerated the entire territory. It is no longer feasible to send an expedition to Cecil's lands for verification."
Dukes Franklin and Lawrence, seated beside him, exchanged glances. Gawain continued, his tone sharp, "If any of you believe the Cecil family is fabricating the truth to gain sympathy or leverage, feel free to voice it openly."
"No, no, we hold no such suspicions," Duke Baldwin said hastily. "We only require…confirmation of these events. After all, it concerns a calamity from seven centuries past, the gravity of which surpasses what any single human kingdom could confront alone…"
"But they've already arrived!" Rebecca exclaimed, rising from her seat. "I saw them with my own eyes!"
"Calm yourself," Gawain said, pressing her back into her seat before turning to the King. "I understand your caution, given the significant costs of war. I've brought additional evidence—weaponry used by our soldiers in the southern territories. Though the creatures left no corpses, the equipment used in combat carries traces of elemental corruption that should serve as proof. I trust even the finest royal scholars won't be able to attribute this corrosion to any known earthly source."
Two attendants brought in a large chest, opening it to reveal an assortment of worn swords and deformed pieces of armor. Each item appeared as if it had been exposed to a corrosive substance, with surfaces pitted and mottled in an unnatural hue. In the most severely affected pieces, the metal had taken on the texture of decayed wood, disintegrating easily under light pressure into small, crumbling fragments.
"These are harmless now and can be touched," Gawain explained as the King and nobles examined the items. "But until a few weeks ago, these pieces were still undergoing self-decomposition. If historians have done their due diligence over these seven centuries, the annals should contain references to similar occurrences."
"Yes, yes, there are such records…" King Francis nodded thoughtfully.
"In addition, we discovered the writings of a rogue mage purely by chance, describing symptoms of solar flares and magical surges…"
Gawain relayed all relevant intelligence, though the mage's notes did not seem to garner much attention. For most at the table, these written observations lacked the credibility of the physical evidence before them.
"Do you know where the dragon might have gone?" At last, Duchess Victoria Wilde of the North broke the silence. Her focus seemed to be more on the dragon's movements than the creatures. "Or can you deduce its intent?"
Gawain shook his head. "I cannot say."
Though he had more experience than anyone else present, it didn't mean he was more knowledgeable. Gawain Cecil, seven centuries prior, had no experience with dragons—at least none that he could recall. In fact, his confidence in the memories he inherited had dwindled since encountering those enigmatic crystals the previous evening.
"Interestingly, three months ago, there were rumors of a dragon sighting over my territory," the Duchess continued, each word measured. "A witness claimed to have seen a dragon descending from the northern mountains. But no other witnesses came forward, and the person was found to have mistaken a mountain snowstorm for a dragon."
Gawain immediately asked, "Did the witness describe any distinguishing features of the dragon?"
"No," Victoria replied, shaking her head. "But I can have a more thorough investigation conducted."
"We must pursue this," said the King. "Not only the dragon's whereabouts but any sightings of the creatures. We should also monitor for any unusual magical activity across the kingdom."
Rebecca interjected, "But merely investigating won't be enough. We must prepare our forces. These monsters can appear suddenly, without warning. By the time an investigator reports them, it could already be too late…"
Duke Silas of the East, a tall and formidable figure, looked at Rebecca with mild irritation. "Are you suggesting we station troops throughout the land to wait for these monsters that may or may not even appear?"
Rebecca blurted, "Ideally, yes…"
"That's impossible," Duke Lawrence said curtly. "We cannot mobilize the army based on a hypothetical threat. It would provoke unrest among the nobility, and the royal reputation would suffer. Moreover, we must remain vigilant against the threat from the Typhon Empire to the east—that nation has long sought an opportunity to encroach upon Ansu's territories."
After the fall of the Gondor Empire, humanity's scattered survivors established four nations across the continent. The Typhon Empire, situated to the east, had become the most powerful of the four. While Ansu's northern, southern, and western regions had achieved coexistence with other kingdoms and races, Typhon had asserted itself as the sole dominion in the east, consolidating power and influence.
Ansu shared a contested border with Typhon—a boundary laden with fertile lands and rich resources, creating an inevitable point of tension. Initially, the four nations maintained fraternal ties, but peace is fragile, especially over the centuries. Ansu's civil strife a hundred years prior had prompted Typhon to expand its foothold along their mutual border, souring relations to the brink of hostility.
Though there had been no large-scale war, smaller skirmishes were constant.
In Ansu's current geopolitical landscape, the south was impoverished, while the north's neutral neighbors posed little threat. To the west, the Ogure tribal kingdom maintained an alliance with Ansu. The east, therefore, remained the only boundary under continual pressure, a reality Duke Lawrence could not ignore. For him, the looming presence of Typhon's forces was a more immediate danger than any rumors of mythical creatures.