A procession of numerous knights steadily made their way to the Waham city gates, much to the curiosity of the Wahams. Leading them was a young man atop a pure white pony, its neck sticking out proudly and majestically.
The man had a refined, impeccable appearance—his dark aristocratic attire with intricate silver engravings standing out among the crowd. Another man respectfully accompanied him side by side.
The people were whispering among themselves, wondering what the Young Ducal Heir was doing. Some also recognized the man accompanying him, the butler of the Erwen Family.
As the procession reached the city wall, many onlookers had gathered on both sides of the street to see what was going on.
The pale stone wall stood erected, tall and firm. No signs of decay were visible. It almost seemed new to an untrained eye. The city was heavily fortified but carried a sense of elegance and beauty—towers manned with scouts, archers at the ready behind the arrowholes, walls thick and reinforced with battlements.
The Erwen Family's banners waved proudly in the wind, hung from the towers both outwardly as well as inwardly.
The heir stopped at the main gate of the city, a lion head sculpture and the decorated arches of the gate casting a faint shadow over the procession.
The young man raised his head slightly and met the gaze of the guard stationed at the gatehouse above, giving him the signal, a faint smile on his face.
The guard gave a salute and began turning the winch, using all his strength to do so. The levers moved, gears turned, and the thick chains attached to the drawbridge slowly began extending out as the windlass spun and the bridge began lowering over the seventy-five-foot-wide moat.
As the bridge dropped down, everyone saw Count Hainar and his convoy beyond the moat. Immediately, the knights came forward and lined up on both sides of the bridge. They unsheathed their swords and held them in front of their chests in a welcome salute. Then, with a swift movement, they all swung their swords, pointing them toward the ground in unison, creating a whooshing metallic sound.
Serin was very excited to see this. It was an entirely new experience for him. Brinescar was a prosperous port city, but it was relatively new and lacked a certain depth of culture and history. Waham, however, was completely different. This was a city that had served as the seat of the Western Ducal Houses for centuries.
Serin could immediately feel the difference even from the outside. He was so lost in his own excitement and anticipation that he completely missed the surprised expressions on the Count's and the Lieutenant's faces.
The young man on the white horse dismounted gracefully. He walked across the bridge and stood in front of the Count. Bowing slightly in greeting, he said politely, "Lord Hainar, welcome. The Duke and my uncle are waiting for you."
The man in black then looked at Serin, his eyes narrowing perceptibly. "Prince Serin, it is gratifying to see you well again."
Serin leaned forward slightly and smiled. "Thank you, young lord."
After exchanging some more greetings, the young lord of House Erwen led the Count and Serin inside, accompanied by a ceremonial escort of family knights.
Of course, not the entire convoy entered the city. The Count only took Serin, the Lieutenant, as well as a handful of knights with him inside the city. The rest were led to a nearby barracks.
Under the observant and inquisitive gazes of the common folk of the city, the procession began heading toward the Duke's mansion, the residence of the Erwen Family.
Serin was shocked and uncomfortable to see people looking at him wide-eyed, some even whispering his name in quiet gossip.
It seemed that word had already reached far and wide that Serin had awakened, so much so that even the common folk now knew about it.
Serin's sights were set on the spire reaching for the skies, his eyes full of wonder. To his disappointment, the Duke's mansion was located opposite the spire, and thus it could no longer be seen. Instead, Serin found himself enamored with the scenery of this ancient, rich, bustling city.
The procession eventually picked up its pace, and in the blink of an eye, the Duke's mansion was ahead of them.
By name, it was a mansion, but by stature it was nothing less than a palace. The mansion was vast, expanding across acres of land, with large gardens, beautiful fountains, and courtyards. It was truly the pinnacle of luxury, reminiscent of the massive European-style mansions owned by Victorian-era royalty and aristocrats.
The mansion was quite isolated from the city, nestled near the woods in a serene and quiet atmosphere. The air was very fresh, and the singing of birds echoed from the surroundings. After a long and tireless journey, Serin finally felt his nerves lighten and his muscles relax.
The gates of the mansion opened wide, servants already lined up in disciplined rows along the marble steps. As soon as the Count and Serin dismounted, they were greeted with practiced warmth—bows executed with precision, voices low and respectful, every gesture carefully measured. Nothing felt excessive, yet nothing felt lacking. This was the hospitality of a dignified ducal house that had entertained emperors, kings, and powers far older than either.
For Serin, who had thought that Hainar County was already luxurious, the experience was nothing short of enlightening.
After they were led inside, the young heir introduced himself once again, as did the butler of the Erwen household. Serin committed their names to memory—the Ducal Heir was named Wayham Erwen.
The other, Butler Fyhill, led the Count and Serin to their separate chambers.
Serin was led to a guest chamber overlooking a walled garden. He washed the road dust from his hands and face, changed into fresh clothes provided by the household, and only then did he realize how tired he truly was. His shoulders ached. His legs still felt strange after three days in the saddle.
Yet there was little time and much to do. After getting refreshed and having some fresh fruit and tea, the Count and Serin were invited to lunch.
A few maidservants guided Serin to the dining hall. As always, Serin subconsciously observed his surroundings carefully. The mansion was undoubtedly dripping with luxury, but it was different from what he had seen in Hainar Keep. It was more restrained, less flashy, yet still rich and elegant.
The Duke's dining hall was large but restrained. No excessive gold. No needless displays. The table was long, the windows tall, sunlight spilling in and glinting off polished stone. Duke Erwen sat at the head, his posture relaxed, his presence steady.
Wayham Erwen was also present, albeit with a more leisurely air.
The Count's father-in-law, Lord Syne, was also present. He inquired about his daughter, the Countess, and the Count politely conveyed her message to him. A satisfied smile appeared on Lord Syne's face; he was relieved.
The Count and the Duke then exchanged greetings and words of courtesy. No matter how urgent the matter was, the chores of aristocracy came first, which made Serin chuckle inwardly.
Finally, sensing the urgency on the Count's face, the Duke did not beat around the bush any further. "Lord Hainar, you have come so urgently. I assume it must be something serious."
The Count sighed in resignation and began explaining why they had made the long journey in such haste. As he spoke, Wayham sat straighter in his seat, no longer so leisurely. The Duke and Lord Syne narrowed their eyes, solemn expressions settling on their faces as the seriousness of the situation became clear.
The Duke, Lord Syne, and Wayham recoiled visibly in surprise upon learning that Serin had been chosen by the Gods for the Divine Arena. They were even more surprised to hear that he possessed a powerful Divine Blessing such as Precognition.
The Count, feeling parched, took a sip of his tea and continued, speaking of the sunken ships and the strong possibility of Akh'Thal approaching the shore.
An unsettling silence fell over the dining hall. Lord Syne's face had gone pale, and Wayham wore a deep frown. Meanwhile, the Duke listened calmly, occasionally asking questions of his own without ceremony and nodding thoughtfully in response.
After listening to everything the Count had to say, the Duke paused for a moment and glanced at Serin slightly longer than necessary, his thoughts unreadable.
The Duke then looked at Count Hainar knowingly, a subtle smile forming on his face. "So you have come to enlist the assistance of the Magi Order?"
Count Hainar nodded in acknowledgment, smiling bitterly. "Yes. We have no other choice."
Lord Syne and the Duke exchanged meaningful glances for a brief second. Then Lord Syne smiled widely, showing his teeth, as he grasped the Count's hand. "My son-in-law, do not worry. The Magi Order will surely see the plight of the people of Brinescar."
The Duke stood up, his expression seemingly dissatisfied. "Count, we are family. Are we not? I am saddened that you would not ask us as family in this troubled time."
"How could I—"
"Nonsense!" Lord Syne interjected. "Son, do you not consider House Erwen family anymore? You are not allowed to protest. The Ascendents of House Erwen will surely return with you to Brinescar this time."
Count Hainar was deeply touched. He placed a hand over his chest and bowed in gratitude, only to be stopped midway and lightly reprimanded by Lord Syne. "There you go again… We're family! Do not worry about it!" he said sternly.
Serin watched the scene unfold with perplexity and confusion, not fully understanding what had just transpired.
The Count, however, seemed very glad and satisfied with the outcome. The topic shifted, the adults in the hall discussing other matters casually while Serin and Wayham spoke only when addressed.
Just like that, lunch came to an end on a good note. The Count informed Serin that after a brief rest, they would finally knock on the gates of the Magi Order for the very first time.
It was time to visit the Magi Temple. Everything depended on this.