And the topic of this meeting was precisely the matter that had been driving them to the brink lately—"Deliora's disappearance."
"Still no word from the Rune Knights? How did a blunder this basic even happen? Who's going to give me an explanation?!"
Chairman Crawford Seam sat in a chair that could barely contain him, his belly jutting forward as his knuckles hammered the tabletop again and again.
It was no wonder he was panicking. Deliora had once torn through the north like a living catastrophe, leaving countless families broken and grieving.
If those victims learned that Deliora—the very demon that had destroyed their homes—had been stolen quietly at least half a year ago due to the Council's negligence…
Then the backlash alone would be enough to force Crawford—or several people seated here—into resigning in disgrace.
So the urgent priority was obvious. He needed to retrieve Deliora. Or find someone "heavy" enough to take the fall.
And of course, everyone in that room—those old political slickers—understood exactly what he was thinking.
Some immediately began drafting excuses in their heads, rehearsing how they would cleanly cut themselves off when the blame started flying.
Others felt only bitter frustration that the Council had sunk so low, letting a man like Crawford—someone who cared only about his own skin—sit in the highest seat.
A tense silence spread across the table.
When no one spoke, Crawford's face twisted, and he started calling names.
"Yajima—no, Org! You were the one who volunteered to take charge of the investigation. So where are your results? Any leads? Found the culprit yet?"
Seated in the Council's Second Seat, a stern elderly man with bat-like adornments and one eye closed turned his head slowly toward Crawford.
"Chairman. Deliora has been missing for no less than half a year. Finding the culprit is extremely difficult. We can only search for clues little by little."
"Bang!"
Crawford slammed the table.
"Org! You insisted on taking this task yourself! And now you tell me it's difficult? If you didn't have the ability, you shouldn't have bitten off more than you can chew! When this finally comes to light, let's see how you plan to explain yourself!"
Hearing Crawford so impatiently pin the label of "incompetent" onto him, Org's left eye snapped open—furious, sharp as a blade.
"Crawford, do you even hear yourself? At a time like this, you're still thinking about dumping responsibility!"
His voice turned hard, biting.
"If you, as Chairman, had stepped forward earlier and sent letters to all guilds requesting their cooperation, this wouldn't have been dragged out into a dead end in the first place!"
"You—!" Crawford's face went red. "Org! Watch your tone! You're only the Second Seat! I'm the Chairman!"
Org gave a cold snort, then turned away and simply closed his left eye again as well, as if none of this mattered to him.
That dismissive attitude—so openly refusing to treat Crawford as anything worth respecting—made Crawford's fury boil.
But Org's status was second only to his own. Crawford couldn't easily move against him.
So he swept his gaze across the rest of the table.
Several Councilors immediately lowered their heads the moment that gaze—hungry, vicious—landed on them.
Only a few dared meet his eyes.
One of them was Councilor Yajima, the Sixth Seat, a man with deep ties to Fairy Tail.
Crawford had long been displeased with this old fool—always "protecting" Fairy Tail inside the Council, always shielding that troublesome guild that never stopped giving him headaches.
And Yajima's position was perfect: not too high, not too low.
So Crawford chose him as the outlet for his anger.
"Councilor Yajima," Crawford sneered, "I recall the Council already sent a letter to Fairy Tail three days ago. Why hasn't the person I requested arrived?
Don't tell me you and Makarov are working together?!"
At the accusation, Yajima's eyelid twitched.
The small, stocky Councilor—wearing a wizard hat with three pointed tips, built much like Makarov—slowly raised his head.
Behind those half-squinted eyes, a cold glint flashed and vanished.
"Chairman. I did not agree with the decision to send a letter demanding that Fairy Tail hand over one of its own members… but I'm not foolish enough to hide anyone behind the Council's back.
As for whether they are willing to comply—and when they will arrive—then you can write another letter and ask Makarov yourself."
"What?" Crawford's expression contorted. "What kind of attitude is that?
You're showing so little concern for the Council's decision. Councilor Yajima… I'm beginning to doubt whether you deserve your seat at this table!"
That kind of targeted harassment finally made Yajima frown, irritation rising in his chest—
But before he could respond, commotion erupted outside the chamber doors.
"…You can't go in! The Chairman and Councilors are in session. At the very least, let me announce you—!"
"Move!"
A shout thundered through the hall.
The conference room doors were kicked open with a violent crash.
"Crawford! I think you've sat in that Chairman's chair long enough!"
Two figures strode in, their pressure filling the room like a storm front—followed by a frog-faced man who looked frantic and helpless.
Every Councilor present jolted in shock.
Yajima's eyes widened, and he blurted out without thinking:
"Li'l Makarov?!"
That's right.
The intruders were none other than Makarov—having come straight to the Council's front gate to demand an explanation the moment he received the letter—and Kabe at his side.
Makarov wore the white cloak that symbolized his status as one of the Ten Wizard Saints. He first nodded once toward Yajima—
Then his gaze locked onto Crawford, whose face had gone stiff with disbelief, and he roared:
"Crawford! I'm here today to demand an answer.
I want to know what gives the Council the right to demand people from Fairy Tail for no reason at all!"
Crawford shot up from his seat, shocked and furious. His lips trembled as he pointed at Makarov, shouting:
"Y-you—how dare you!
Makarov, you barged into a high-level Council session without permission, and you still dare to question me—the Chairman?!"