"It wasn't exactly urgent. It just felt a little strange."
Ezra Hughes still carried the dampness of the outdoors on him. With a grim expression, he said, "Last night, we detected abnormally frequent magical fluctuations. They weren't particularly strong, and they appeared and disappeared, making it difficult to pinpoint their exact location. But their frequency far exceeded normal levels..."
Lyla Piquery stood nearby with a file in her arms and smiled. "Could you be overthinking it, Mr. Hughes?"
She said lightly, "With the weather these past two days, anyone going outside would need seven or eight spells—Waterproof Charms, Drying Charms, Warming Charms, Scouring Charms, Rain-shielding Charms... It's only natural that the frequency would be much higher than usual."
Ezra Hughes looked at her and said seriously, "When I said 'abnormally frequent,' I naturally made that judgment after accounting for the weather!"
Hawthorne leaned back in his chair, his gaze passing through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows as he stared at the city, which looked as though it had survived a catastrophe.
"Lyla has a point, but bad weather is also the best time to fish in troubled waters. There must be quite a few Dark Wizards... or those persistent Scourers... taking the opportunity to stir up trouble."
In a low voice, he said, "Ezra, go investigate. Whatever personnel you need to mobilize, you can..."
Before he could finish, the office's heavy wooden door was suddenly pushed open. A young clerk rushed in, panting, clutching a roll of parchment that had been accidentally crumpled in his grip.
"Chairman Hawthorne!" the clerk cried in a shrill voice. "S-something terrible has happened!"
Looking at him, Ezra felt as though someone had slammed a hammer into his temple. A sense of foreboding instantly made the blood vessels in his head throb violently.
Hawthorne sprang to