The route from Lantarik to Coral Sahar, capital of the Kingdom of Korasar, was usually taken by boat.
This was because Coral Sahar was a beautiful city nestled in the delta where the Kora River met the sea, a city that had amassed tremendous wealth through maritime trade.
However, due to the ongoing drought, the water level of the Kora River had dropped, and boats could only navigate slowly through the very center of the river where the depth was barely maintained, leaving no room to accommodate passengers.
"We'll have to go by land. Any help available?"
Azadin asked the Pedders' Guild at the Lantarik branch.
But they refused to help Azadin, even in this minor matter.
"Well. Wouldn't it be a problem if we helped you outright?"
"So you're saying, figure it out myself. That's bad news. One of us eats a lot."
Now that they had accepted Scott as a companion, Azadin's group was facing a serious food shortage.
In the past, it wouldn't have been a big issue, but due to the drought in Salasma and the war in Lantarik, food prices had skyrocketed and political unrest was spreading everywhere.
With the light of the king's virtue losing its power, monsters running rampant across the land, and beings of the Nether wandering the human world, the Pedders' Guild's help in securing stable supplies of food and goods was desperately needed.
"Even so, we can't help. Arael's younger brother—at least not on the road to Coral Sahar."
"Why not?"
"Because the forces of the Elder Council remain in Coral Sahar, and the upper ranks of the Pedders' Guild—the five houses, especially the high-ranking members of the House Aether—rule over the Coral Sahar region."
Their stance was so firm, there was no hope of expecting anything from them.
'It used to be a well-functioning organization, but I didn't expect this kind of weakness.'
When the Herald Clan had been united, the merchant and herald organizations had kept each other in check but also cooperated well. However, once factions split within the Herald Clan and conflict broke out, most of the clan's functions became paralyzed.
'Calypso is wise. At times like this, it's better to take a step back and watch. But since I'm blood-related to Arael, they won't just leave me alone even if I try to sit back and watch.'
In this situation, Azadin had two options: either wait like Calypso for things to settle down, instead of performing the duties of the Emperor's Herald, or actively join Arael's faction or the Elder Council and jump into the power struggle.
But unlike Calypso, Azadin couldn't afford to stall for time, since he was Arael's brother. Left with no choice, he decided to ask for something else.
"Then at least tell me the whereabouts of Judge Zekt, and be careful. That holy knight is strange. He's using the power of the Nether."
"Understood. A holy knight is always someone to be wary of."
"Then."
Azadin left the Pedders' Guild and returned to his companions. On the way back, Ishmael spoke.
"You must be proud your older sister is so successful."
"What do you mean?"
"She said she values you, didn't she? Even when you resist her, she doesn't try to kill you. Why don't you surrender to her?"
"You really don't like me, do you?"
"Do I have a reason to like you?"
"But even a normal servant wouldn't show such open hostility toward their superior, the herald. You really lack basic tact. Though, I guess you act like this toward everyone."
Azadin recalled how Ishmael had bristled even in front of Arael and the four of the Beauty of Nature.
'This kid… he must be that. Poor guy.'
Azadin had roughly figured out Ishmael's true identity. Considering who he was, it made sense for Ishmael to be so prickly and defensive with everyone.
"What's with that look?"
"Oh, nothing. Just thinking, it must be tough going through so much at such a young age."
"Huh?"
Ishmael, after snapping at Azadin, looked displeased when Azadin didn't take him seriously.
"Let's head back and prepare to leave Lantarik. Nothing good will come from staying here."
Since Arael had shown herself at Lantarik Castle, staying any longer would be dangerous. With that thought, Azadin began preparing to leave Lantarik immediately upon his return.
But just as Azadin's group was about to depart, someone called out to them from behind.
"Hey! Azadin!"
"Calypso?"
"Wait a second. Don't go to Coral Sahar! It's serious!"
"What do you mean, serious?"
"News just came in—Coral Sahar is under attack!"
"By what?"
"That is…"
***
The King of Korasar was Ansethus IV, a man who had once been intelligent and brilliant in his youth, defeating all his rivals and ascending to the throne—a genius among men. One of the men defeated and pushed aside in the race for the throne had been Count Kazel.
But once he became king, he fell into hedonism, neglected the borders, and refused to leave his pleasure palace.
After defeating his powerful competitors and securing his kingship, he seemed to lose all wit as if by magic and became a hedonist, consumed by luxury and pleasure.
However, at this moment, Ansethus IV was holding a state council meeting and sitting on the throne with unusual vigor. It couldn't be helped—thunder was rumbling outside, and a storm was raging.
Typhoons in Korasar's summer weren't uncommon. But a typhoon that refused to move and kept pouring rain and wind for an entire week was rare, and it was causing severe damage.
"The docks have been destroyed by the rising seawater, and lowlands and riverbanks are flooded due to backflow. Seawater is surging upstream, and the rescue workers have been working in three shifts for a week without rest. They can't keep going."
As the typhoon battered Coral Sahar and nearby lowlands began to flood, even the lethargic King Ansethus was forced to take action and resume governing.
The first thing he mobilized was the navy. With ships anchored due to the storm, the navy used small boats to rescue people from flooded lowlands and evacuate them to higher ground.
Up to that point, everything had gone relatively well—but the problem was, the rain was far heavier and more persistent than expected.
"A landslide occurred on the highlands, wiping out the refugee camps."
"Rescue the refugees…"
"They're already completely exhausted."
"We've been running them non-stop in three shifts for an entire week… People are dying from overwork or collapsing and falling into the river."
The soldiers were already utterly worn out from rescuing and evacuating people.
The real issue was that they had evacuated everyone to the highlands, believing the rain would soon stop.
But the rain didn't stop—it kept pouring, and the highlands were hit by landslides. Now, to rescue the evacuees swept away by the landslides, they had to double the manpower.
"We'll have to relocate the rest of the refugees. If we're short on people, bring in more from other regions."
"The thing is… the treasury is running dry."
"How much money is left in the treasury?"
"About 2,000 ryang of silver."
"Ryang" was a unit of weight used by the dwarves, and 2,000 ryang of silver was a fortune beyond the imagination of most commoners.
However, Korasar's peak annual revenue had once been around 120,000 ryang.
Even now, it was collecting around 60,000 ryang a year.
The principle was to stockpile funds during times of peace to prepare for war or famine, so the treasury should have held much more.
And yet, with no major incident, the treasury was empty.
"I must've slacked off too much after becoming king. Just how many thieves have been dipping into the royal treasury?"
"..."
"The people must be angry at me, aren't they?"
King Ansethus asked his vassals directly. Their expressions grew complex.
'The light of the king's virtue has weakened because an illegitimate king sits on the throne—that's why drought came to Salasma and a typhoon struck Coral Sahar!'
Of course, they couldn't say that out loud.
No matter how lazy the king had been, he was still the king, and they were still his vassals—and weren't they the very ones who embezzled the treasury when the king's oversight grew lax?
"Th-that is…"
"I won't hold you accountable. Just bring out what you have."
"..."
"So if we manage to supplement funds and manpower, can we resolve this by moving the refugees farther away?"
"There are… troubling rumors spreading."
"What kind of rumors?"
"People are saying that at night, strange fish-men appear and attack people."
"Nonsense! That's obviously a baseless rumor. The Royal Navy investigated, and there have been no casualties caused by fish-men! Most deaths are accidents or from overwork!"
Duke Dixion, admiral of the Korasar navy, exclaimed furiously.
"Use the navy to evacuate the victims and purchase food from the merchants. Avoid landslide-prone areas and set up refugee camps only where safety can be guaranteed."
In the end, the king could only issue general orders.
***
Calypso spoke in a flurry.
"Coral Sahar's completely wrecked. That news came in just recently."
"…That doesn't make sense."
Azadin tilted his head at Calypso's words.
The Herald Clan didn't simply walk around relaying messages—they had artificial spirits called the Emperor's Voice, and even beyond that, used various forms of magic to transmit information.
If a typhoon had flooded Coral Sahar for two weeks, news of it should have reached them long ago.
Even if the Herald Clan was split between Arael's faction and the Elder Council, for such crucial information to remain unknown…
"They say the typhoon is magical."
"A magical typhoon? Who was the herald in charge of Coral Sahar?"
"Herald of the 24th rank, Zenith. Younger sibling of Lady Dimia of the Flower."
"..."
"So, what do you say, Azadin? Are you really going? Why not just rest here and make peace with Lady Arael? And while you're making peace, maybe you could help me get a good position too. Truth is, I've admired Lady Arael for a long time. She's still single, right? No fiancé, correct?"
"Oh, for the love of—forget it. I'm going!"
Azadin swatted Calypso away like a fly and marched out of Lantarik's gates.
As Azadin's group headed toward Coral Sahar, they soon saw a stream of weary people flooding in from the west. Merchants who had tried to reach Coral Sahar and failed were now retreating en masse.
They shouted to those they passed on the road.
"Don't go to Coral Sahar!"
"The king has issued a conscription order!"
"All food and cargo are being seized and replaced with scrips!"
"Scrips that get erased in the rain! The paper's so thin you wonder where they even found it! Quite the tricksters!"
Normally, during wartime requisitions, scrips were written on fabric or parchment—materials that were relatively sturdy.
To issue them on paper—thin paper, no less—meant that those issuing the scrips had little intention of ever repaying the debt.
The faith of the King's Church demanded absolute loyalty to the king and nobility, but its foundation was the light of the king's virtue, which claimed to protect the world from calamities and monsters.
In other words, when calamities raged and monsters ran wild, it signified that the current king was not a rightful one.