At the same time.
Viscount's residence, conference hall.
Late at night, the usually heavily guarded residence had made an exception and opened its gates.
The residence stood at the highest point of the inner city, overlooking all of Grim Port.
The three-story stone main building stood silently beneath the night sky. Reliefs of the sea god and giant whales adorned its colonnades, telling of the ancient glory of this port city.
The conference hall, large enough to hold dozens of people, seated only a handful.
Candlelight flickered amid the shadows on the walls, casting shifting light and darkness across the faces of those present.
Old Morgan sat in the Night Watchers' seat, surveying the room.
The Viscount sat at the head of the table, his expression grim.
To his left sat Church Archbishop Samuel, an elderly man in purple robes with a head of white hair. His expression was peaceful, but golden light flickered in his eyes.
To his right sat the Great Ascendant of the Ascension Society, Griffith, a middle-aged man whose face was half precise mechanical construction. Even sitting still, the clacking of turning gears could be heard.
There were also representatives from the inner city's military, along with several newly promoted officials whose names Old Morgan did not know.
The atmosphere in the room was oppressive and solemn.
"Casualty reports." The Viscount's voice echoed through the hall. "Report in order."
The Night Watchers spoke first.
"Five dead, twelve seriously wounded, and several lightly wounded." Old Morgan's voice was calm, but everyone present could hear the weight behind it.
Griffith of the Ascension Society followed.
"One senior alchemist dead, three alchemists seriously wounded."
He paused, and a trace of coldness flashed through his mechanical eye.
"More than half the laboratory was destroyed. Years of research went up in