The King got up from his seat, clearly agitated.

"What do you mean by ’the Quiet Taking is expanding’?"

Before the coachman could respond, the King regained his composure and sat down, calming himself.

"Everyone leave," he said. "I would like to have this discussion private."

Thaddeus turned back about to leave when his father called him back.

"Thaddeus, don’t be daft. You know I don’t mean you also."

"You said everyone, so I just assumed. You should have put an exception, Father."

The King sighed. "Can’t you be serious for once, Thaddeus?"

The coachman looked at the King, then at Thaddeus. The way they both kept eye contact.

Thaddeus was looking at the King lazily while the King was looking at him with a stern look.

"What the heck is wrong with these two? I’m here reporting a very serious issue and—"

The coachman let that remaining sentence stay in his mind and then cleared his throat so that they would remember someone was still here.

"You may go on. It seems like my Father has already forgotten you," Thaddeus said. He proceeded to sit somewhere.

The King looked at the coachman, signaling him to continue.

"When I say the Quiet Taking is expanding, Your Highness, I don’t really understand as I am just a lowly servant sent by Lord Drazeil to inform you that the Quiet Taking is expanding. So only him can truly explain to you. And he told me to give you a report about the investigation."

"Proceed with the reports."

The coachman swallowed. For a moment, he struggled to find the words.

How did one explain something like this?

How did one describe a village watching one of its Greatest Protectors turn into ash?

"My King," he began quietly. "The situation in Wrenhollow has deteriorated beyond what anyone expected."

The King’s fingers tightened around the armrest of his throne.

"Explain."

The coachman nodded.

"Just two days ago, at midnight, an incident connected to the Quiet Taking occurred."

The room grew noticeably colder.

"Instead of the usual rumor, in which we hear about how something comes to quietly take someone away, the thing took form."

The King’s expression darkened.

"And?"

The coachman took a breath.

"This time, however, a shadow manifested physically."

The King immediately sat forward. "What?"

"Lord Drazeil and Celestia engaged it personally."

A flicker of surprise crossed the King’s face.

"Was it destroyed?"

"No."

The King had a look of worry. "Why couldn’t it be killed?"

The coachman lowered his head. "I am not sure, my King."

The King’s expression became grave.

"But then... Lord Drazeil referred to it as part of something larger."

The coachman’s hands trembled slightly.

Neither the King nor Thaddeus interrupted.

"It implied that there were others."

A heavy silence settled over the room.

The coachman continued. "The creature confronted the Village Elder, Elder Theai, as though that was its main purpose."

The King’s eyes widened slightly. "Theai?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Thaddeus, sitting across the room, leaned forward slightly. "You know her?"

The King’s eyes narrowed. "What?"

Thaddeus smirked. "Probably one of your past lovers or—"

The King glared. Sharp. Deadly.

Thaddeus stopped. He knew he was right.

"What happened to her?" The King looked back at the coachman.

The coachman’s voice softened. "Elder Theai was corrupted by its bite and turned into ashes."

For the first time, genuine sadness appeared on the King’s face. The room fell silent.

"Theai is dead?"

The coachman nodded. "Yes."

The King’s expression tightened.

Elder Theai had served the kingdom for decades. Her wisdom was respected even by nobles. Losing her was no small matter.

The coachman continued. "Before her death, she ordered the evacuation of Wrenhollow."

The King froze. "Evacuation?"

"Yes."

The coachman nodded again. "Lord Drazeil agreed with her assessment."

The King’s eyes narrowed. "Drazeil approved the evacuation of the village?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The King leaned back on his throne seat.

"Quite surprising, is it not?" Thaddeus asked.

"Indeed." The King responded. "Why would Elder Theai want to evacuate her people from their land?"

The coachman chose his words carefully. "Saving the people before it becomes impossible."

Silence. The King slowly leaned back.

Thaddeus finally spoke. "Has any other villages reported new incidents?"

The coachman looked toward him. "We do not know."

"How many confirmed attacks?"

"We do not know."

Thaddeus frowned. "What exactly do we know?"

The coachman met his gaze. "We know the Quiet Taking is no longer isolated."

His voice became steady. "We know it is spreading."

The King’s jaw tightened. "We know Elder Theai believed something far worse is coming."

The room became deathly still.

The coachman reached into his coat. He withdrew several folded documents. "Lord Drazeil requests emergency assistance, Your Majesty."

The King’s expression remained grave.

"Read them aloud."

The coachman nodded.

"Lord Drazeil requests immediate evacuation support for Wrenhollow and the surrounding settlements."

The King’s eyes narrowed. "Evacuation support?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The coachman looked down at the parchment. "He requests evacuation wagons and transport carriages. Many of the villagers are elderly, injured, or have young children. They cannot travel long distances on foot."

The King slowly leaned back. "And?"

"He requests food supplies. Grain, preserved meat, dried fruits, clean water barrels... enough to sustain the refugees during relocation."

The coachman’s voice grew more urgent. "Medical supplies as well. Healing herbs, bandages, medicines, and trained healers."

Thaddeus’s lazy posture shifted slightly.

The coachman continued. "Lord Drazeil also requests soldiers."

The room grew quieter.

"How many?"

"Enough to escort the evacuation caravans and establish defensive positions around the temporary settlements."

The King drummed his fingers against the armrest. "And what exactly are these soldiers defending against?"

The coachman’s face darkened. "It’s not something I’m really sure about, Your Highness."

Silence followed. Even the air felt heavier.

The coachman swallowed before continuing. "Lord Drazeil further requests investigators and scholars."

That finally caught the King’s full attention.

"Scholars?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The coachman nodded. "We need historical knowledge from Scholars connected to what is happening."

"Mmm, continue with the request"

The coachman took a deep breath. "There is one final request."

"Which is?"

"Lord Drazeil’s final request is access to the kingdom’s refined Mana Crystal reserves."

The King’s brows immediately furrowed. "Mana Crystals?"

The coachman nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty."

The King leaned forward. "How many?"

"Six."

"What does Drazeil need Mana Crystals for?"

The coachman hesitated. "He did not explain in detail, Your Majesty. Only that they may become necessary for the evacuation effort."

The King looked unconvinced.

Before he could speak again, Thaddeus suddenly cut in.

"Actually, it makes sense."

They both turned toward him.

The prince was leaning lazily against his chair, though his eyes were far more focused than before.

"The Mana Crystals in the royal reserves are highly refined mana. Pure mana compressed into crystal form."

He tapped a finger against the armrest. "If they’re placed at strategic points around Wrenhollow, they could power large-scale enchantments."

The King frowned. "Such as?"

"Barriers. Detection arrays. Emergency communication circles."

Thaddeus shrugged. "They could also be used to reinforce evacuation routes, accelerate magical construction, or provide emergency energy for scholars and mages investigating the Quiet Taking."

His expression became thoughtful. "If ordinary methods fail, having a source of pure mana nearby would make responding to new threats much easier."

The coachman blinked. That... actually sounded smarter than anything Drazeil had told him.

Thaddeus noticed the look. "What?"

He pointed at himself. "Just because I’m handsome doesn’t mean I’m not intelligent."

The King rubbed his temples. "Nobody said you were handsome."

"My admirers disagree."

"You don’t have admirers."

"That sounds like jealousy."

The King sighed heavily.

The coachman stood there wondering how a discussion about an expanding supernatural disaster had somehow become this.

"So, what is your verdict on this request, my King?"