Steam rose from the cups of tea placed before everyone present in the Count's study as they sat in silence, the air steeped with anxiety and discomfort as Serin observed—everyone wore tense, stiff expressions on their faces.
The study was quite spacious, yet it felt crowded as Serin took in how many people were present. Apart from the familiar faces, there were others whom Serin recognised by reputation alone, but this was the first time he had met them in such close proximity.
The Count took a calm sip of his tea, then straightened his back and fixed his gaze on a man with broad shoulders, a weathered appearance, and long black hair streaked with strands of grey.
"Marshal Verne. What do you suggest?" the Count asked.
Reyney Verne.
Serin recalled the name inwardly as he looked at the man the Count had referred to as the Lord Marshal. Serin had been made aware that he was the man in charge of all the County's forces, making him one of the most important figures beneath the Count himself.
Curious to hear what Lord Verne would say, Serin turned his head toward him—only to find the Marshal briefly looking back at him with a slight frown. The next moment, Marshal Verne shifted his gaze away and returned it to the Count.
"Forgive me, my Lord. But this is difficult to digest… To go off a nightmare and claim that a sea monster might attack the port…" He paused hesitantly, then continued with a quiet sigh, "…isn't that too far-fetched?"
Serin frowned instinctively. But before the words could leave his mouth, he noticed Admiral Fane standing up from his seat and forced himself to hold back.
"It has been confirmed that Akh'Thal is out there in our territorial waters. Two merchant ships have already been sunk!" Admiral Fane said loudly, his fists clenched tight at his sides.
Marshal Verne glanced at him. "Calm down, Admiral."
Admiral Fane sat back down heavily on the couch. He looked straight into Marshal Verne's eyes and spoke in a heavy voice, "I believe what the Prince's Divine Blessing hints at is true." He then turned toward the Count and continued, "The second ship that sank was even closer to the port. This cannot be a coincidence."
Commander Hudd cleared his throat and asked cautiously, "Let's assume the monster truly comes to shore… then what can we do?"
"I have heard of Akh'Thal—a monster said to rule the deep sea," Marshal Verne said. "Do we know how large it is? Whether we can fight it depends entirely on that."
Admiral Fane sighed, his expression somber. "From the one eyewitness we have, it was large enough to sink a ship. But it could be much bigger—the slave only saw its shadow at night."
Once again, a heavy silence settled over the study. Serin could feel the palpable tension in the air, as though everyone's hearts had grown heavier all at once.
Just then, Eldric—who had been silent like Serin until now—spoke up cautiously. "Then… shouldn't the Spring Festival be cancelled?"
"No. It's too late to cancel it now," the Count said sharply, narrowing his eyes.
Admiral Fane chimed in next, a trace of optimism forced into his tone. "Judging from what we've observed so far, if the monster truly is approaching the shore, then it's doing so very slowly. This also aligns with what we know of the Sea Snake. Most likely, it will arrive after the festival."
Hearing this, everyone let out a quiet sigh of relief. However, Serin remained unconvinced.
"What if it comes sooner than expected?" he asked. "What then? Is it possible to stop it? Chase it away? Or perhaps… kill it?"
Steward Bartley smiled bitterly. "As you have read, my Prince, Akh'Thal is a powerful and rare aquatic monster that usually resides far from shore." He paused, then continued incredulously, "It's baffling how, on Eidryth, it has appeared here at all."
"Can Ascendants not fight it? What about the fleet?" Serin pressed.
This time, Admiral Fane answered. "Akh'Thal is far stronger in the water, and our fleet is not equipped to fight a monster like that. Perhaps the Imperial Navy could."
"The monster's body is covered in strong scales," Commander Hudd added grimly. "Its tentacles are sharp as blades and strike like whips. Ascendants like myself do not fight well at sea—and even if we tried, the casualties would be severe."
Eldric's face paled, as did Serin's, as the full gravity of the situation settled in.
The Count's expression darkened. "Impervious to swords and spears… and capable of inducing madness," he said in a low voice. "It seems we are incapable of defending the port on our own." He shivered slightly as he spoke, helplessness creeping into his tone.
The Countess stepped forward, her eyes sharp. "We should not lose hope just yet. There must be a solution."
The Count took a steadying breath and nodded. After a moment's thought, he said, "If we cannot resolve this ourselves, then the only option is to seek help elsewhere." As he spoke, he froze abruptly, his gaze falling to a letter lying on the desk.
Confusion spread through the room. Following his stare, everyone looked at the letter in bewilderment.
The Count smiled bitterly. "It's a letter from the capital. My brother writes that someone is deliberately stirring trouble for us. The Emperor… has not responded."
"But surely the Empire wouldn't ignore a catastrophe like this… right?" Serin muttered in disbelief.
The Count shook his head grimly. "I'm afraid we cannot rely on Imperial support this time. We will send an envoy immediately, but there is no guarantee the Emperor will act. And if he does not act personally, then far too much time will be lost to bureaucracy."
Only then did Serin and the others truly grasp the full extent of the crisis. A monster like Akh'Thal would tear the port apart. Maritime trade would grind to a halt, and depending on the damage, repairs could take years.
Under normal circumstances, this would already be disastrous—but with the salt permit hanging in the balance, it would give House Hainar's enemies the perfect opportunity to oppose its renewal. Without the permit, the family's finances would collapse almost immediately.
It almost felt as though the world itself wanted House Hainar destroyed.
Panic began to seep into everyone's hearts. The Count stood up from his chair, his legs briefly unsteady. His brows were drawn into a deep frown, his forehead creased with dark lines as he asked, "How many Ascendants do we have?"
"Twenty-six, my Lord," Commander Hudd replied.
"If we commit all of them," the Count asked, his eyes blazing with resolve, "can we fight?"
Commander Hudd clenched his teeth. "Perhaps… but many will die." His gaze dropped, expression dark. "All of them could die."
The study seemed to grow darker, as if Akh'Thal's shadow had already enveloped the city, its unseen tentacles slowly reaching inward.
"The Order of the Holy Mother could help, perhaps?" the Countess suggested quietly.
The Count, Commander Hudd, Admiral Fane, and Marshal Verne exchanged bitter looks, leaving Serin, Eldric, and the Countess confused. After a moment, the Count spoke through gritted teeth. "Perhaps once… it would have been possible. But now? I don't think so."
Like a bolt from the blue, Serin and the Countess understood the core of the issue. In protest against the Emperor's policies and attitude toward the Divine Order, the Order had adopted a stance of minimal cooperation to exert public pressure. Its presence within the Empire had been greatly reduced, sparking unrest among the populace. Yet the Emperor remained stubborn—unyielding at the height of his power.
Under such circumstances, it was unclear whether the Divine Order would risk casualties to fight a monster of this magnitude.
Once more, the study fell into profound silence. It seemed that every path forward had been blocked.
Marshal Verne hesitantly suggested publicizing the threat and recruiting wandering Ascendants and mercenaries with high rewards. But after discussion, everyone agreed there was too little time—and that such a move carried risks of its own.
At last, the Count sank back into his chair, fatigue weighing heavily on him. Just as he seemed ready to adjourn the meeting, the Countess stepped forward again, hesitation clear in her eyes as she looked at him.
"Wife?"
The Countess sighed. Biting her lip, she said reluctantly, "There is one more way."
Everyone lifted their heads, hope flickering across their faces as they looked at her.
"What is it, Aunt?" Serin asked.
The Countess hesitated, conflicting thoughts swirling in her mind as she glanced at the Count. Then she clenched her fists and blurted out—
"The Magi Order!"