Rebecca's first reaction upon hearing her name called out was to tense up. For this young successor of a declining family, the current situation and the ring of distinguished figures around her were beyond anything she could ever imagine. Even as a child, fighting wolves in the forest and getting knocked out with a single swipe hadn't given her the kind of surreal feeling she was experiencing now. Watching her ancestor converse effortlessly with the elites, she nearly forgot she was a crucial participant in this meeting as well.
Yet, Rebecca's strength lay in her determination. Despite her initial bewilderment, she relied on a resilience that bordered on near-numbness to gather herself. After taking a moment to organize her thoughts, this young lord from the southern countryside began describing the nightmare that had befallen the Cecil territory to the king.
Everyone listened intently. Even though they hadn't anticipated such an important message coming from this young lady, the gravity of the disaster was enough to make everyone sit up and pay attention.
Those present were, by now, somewhat informed of the events on the southern border. News of it had spread throughout the southern region, with various versions of the story circulating everywhere. Of course, this wasn't all Gawain's doing. His efforts had mostly gone into spreading the story of his "revival," while he hadn't made any specific effort to exaggerate the disaster itself. Yet, the nature of disasters as powerful rumors had ensured that after two months of circulation, nearly everyone in the southern region had heard about it.
While commoners might lack the means to investigate the truth, the nobility did not. Through various methods, everyone in attendance had learned parts of the story, and Francis II even held secret reports from several southern nobles.
But no matter how detailed these reports were, they could not match the clarity and authenticity of hearing from someone who had experienced it firsthand.
As Rebecca's account grew more fluent, the disaster took on a clearer shape, intertwining with the shadow of the dark magic tide from seven centuries ago. The appearance of a dragon at the end only served to cloak the entire matter in even more mystery.
Watching the king and nobles around the table frown in concern, Gawain sighed lightly. Just moments ago, their attention had been entirely on his own "resurrection" and whether the Cecil family would seek to reclaim its former position, seemingly forgetting that the family's primary purpose in coming to the capital was to report on the creatures. Not that he could blame them—Gawain's presence was indeed an overwhelming one.
"And now, most of the Cecil territory has turned to scorched earth," Rebecca said, standing as she spoke. Her hands were clenched into fists, and any hint of nervousness or hesitation had disappeared. "Your Majesty, esteemed nobles, the Cecil domain may be small, but this disaster is a warning. The dragon's intentions may be unknown, but those creatures are a true catastrophe. Those monsters appeared seven centuries ago, and they destroyed the Empire of Gondor. My ancestor experienced it all firsthand."
Francis II exchanged whispers with his advisor and the Northern Duke, while the others bowed their heads to confer quietly.
It was evident that they were taking Rebecca's account seriously, thanks to the steady spread of rumors, the secret reports from the south, and the presence of Gawain himself. Without these factors, a noble from a small, outlying southern family presenting a tale of monsters and dragons devastating her lands would likely be met with ridicule, punishment even, rather than sober discussion.
However, how much they would heed this account and what measures they would take was still in question, for this world had known peace for seven centuries.
"Duke Cecil…" The tall, lean man seated several seats down from Gawain spoke. He was the Duke of the West, Baldwin Franklin, an urbane and refined gentleman. "I believe in your descendant's sincerity on this matter, but what she describes is truly extraordinary. If I may ask, are these creatures truly the same that emerged from the dark tide seven hundred years ago?"
"I spent twenty years fighting them, right up until I died. I could recognize them as ash," Gawain said solemnly. "I've fought them again and can confirm that they are precisely the creatures that surged forth from the darkness all those years ago. Unfortunately, they decompose immediately after death, leaving no body to examine. And with that dragon burning the entire territory, sending someone to Cecil to inspect the scene is out of the question."
Baldwin Franklin exchanged a glance with the Duke of the East, Silas Loren. Gawain noticed this and spoke again, "If you believe the Cecil family is exaggerating the truth to gain sympathy and a path back to power, feel free to say so."
"No, no, that's not our view at all," Baldwin quickly replied. "We just need…confirmation of these claims. Given that this situation invokes the memory of the dark tide from seven centuries ago, its implications…might exceed what any single human kingdom can manage."
"But they're already on our doorstep!" Rebecca stood up, unable to contain herself. "I saw them with my own eyes!"
"Take it easy. Calm down," Gawain said, pressing Rebecca's shoulders as he guided her back into her seat. He then turned to Francis II. "I understand that your caution is justified. Declaring a state of war is no small matter. I've also brought evidence—these are weapons used by our soldiers in the south. Although the creatures' bodies can't be preserved, the weapons we fought them with have been inevitably corrupted by their elemental pollution. The lingering corrosive aura on these weapons should provide you with some reference. I doubt even the most skilled royal scholar could trace any sample from this contamination to anything in our world."
Two strong attendants placed a large chest on the table. Upon opening it, everyone saw broken, misshapen swords and warped pieces of armor, their surfaces pitted and discolored. The most heavily corroded metal had turned to a rotted consistency, crumbling into flakes with the lightest touch.
"They're harmless now," Gawain explained, "but up until half a month ago, these metals were still disintegrating. If the historians of these past seven centuries haven't been completely idle, there should be records of this in the annals."
"Yes, yes, there are," Francis II nodded, his expression grave.
"In addition, we happened upon a wild mage's notes mentioning solar flares and signs of magical surges…" Gawain presented all the information he had, though it was clear that the evidence in the wild mage's notes drew less attention. For many of those present, the items in the chest held far more weight than the vague words of a mage's journal.
To most of those present, these items held less persuasive power than the battered fragments of armor and swords scattered on the table.
"Do you know where that dragon went?" Finally, it was Victoria Wilder, the Northern Duchess, who broke the silence. Rather than the monsters, she seemed more concerned about the dragon's whereabouts. "Or do you have any insight into its purpose?"
Gawain shook his head. "That, I don't know."
Though his age afforded him seniority, that didn't mean he was more knowledgeable than those present. The Gawain Cecil of seven centuries ago had certainly never dealt with dragons—or at least, there was no memory of it. Since seeing those crystals last night, he no longer trusted his inherited memories as fully.
"In fact... about three months ago, rumors of a dragon were circulating in my domain," the duchess said deliberately. "Someone claimed to have seen a dragon flying from the frigid mountains farther north, but no other witnesses were found, and the one who spread the rumor was proven to be drunk, mistaking a snowstorm in the mountains for a dragon."
Gawain immediately followed up, "Did he give any specific description of the dragon?"
"No…" The duchess shook her head. "But I can continue to investigate when I return."
"We must investigate—not just the dragon, but those monsters as well," said Francis II. "We should check if anything similar has appeared elsewhere across the kingdom, or if there's been any unusual magical surges."
Rebecca, unable to contain herself, spoke again. "But investigation alone isn't enough. We also have to be prepared for combat. Those monsters appear suddenly, without warning. If we're not ready in advance, we won't have time to defend ourselves. By the time any scouting parties discover them, it will already be too late."
Silas Loren, Duke of the Eastern Border, cast an annoyed glance at Rebecca. "Are you suggesting that we keep our soldiers on full alert across the entire kingdom, just waiting for these monsters—which may not even exist—to show up?"
Rebecca replied instinctively, "If that were possible, it would be ideal."
"That's impossible. We can't mobilize soldiers across the country based on an uncertain possibility. The regional nobles would revolt, and the royal family's credibility would suffer." Duke Silas, broad-shouldered and towering with the air of a seasoned warrior, spoke with a hardened expression. "Besides, we still have to contend with the threat from the Typhon Empire to the east. That country is like a ravenous wolf, always poised to sink its teeth into Ansu."
When the remnants of the fallen Gondor Empire scattered in all directions, they eventually established new nations in the north, south, west, and east. Typhon, located in the east, had become the most powerful of the four. In the north, south, and west, the human kingdoms coexisted with the original inhabitants or established nations in those lands, but Typhon became the sole ruler in the east, with all the power and assertiveness one would expect.
Ansu and Typhon shared a border, where vast, fertile lands and rich mineral deposits lay, almost naturally creating a flashpoint for conflict. For the first few centuries, these human nations, united by shared origins, could remember their familial ties and maintain peace. However, lasting peace was never realistic. One hundred years ago, during Ansu's civil unrest, the Typhon Empire had taken the opportunity to make some "adjustments" along the border, and relations between the two nations began a steep decline. Now, there was hardly a day of peace between them.
Though there had been no large-scale wars, minor skirmishes were constant.
Given the current state of the Ansu Kingdom—its south impoverished and long since at peace, the northern nations holding no grudge against Ansu, and the western Augure Tribal Kingdom a steadfast ally—it was only the east that had borne the brunt of warfare over the past century.
Thus, Silas Loren, a militarist to the core, would never agree to divert military resources to combat ethereal threats. In his eyes, those legendary creatures posed far less of a threat than the Typhon troops perpetually looming at his doorstep.