In Tatshaw Territory, good news had been arriving one after another lately.
First, Romon had advanced to become a Sixteenth Level Druid. Then came the king's decree granting him the title of Count.
After half a month of bustle, the territory had only just settled down.
Then something happened at the Mage Tower established at Far-Sail Port.
"Have there been any unusual developments today?" Debiru, dressed in a mage's robe, climbed the stairs from below and entered the operating room at the top of the tower, asking the question.
Five Silver Lines gleamed on his robe, signifying his status as a Level-Five Mage.
Five mages were working in the operating room. They were responsible for monitoring conditions at sea, gathering all sorts of information, and sorting through and verifying it.
The work was demanding, yet they had no complaints. On one hand, the compensation was generous; on the other, they could use the Mage Tower to study magic, a privilege reserved for only a select few.
With the Mage Tower, these Low-level Mages had improved rapidly over the past year.
The operating room's layout suited Romon's usual aesthetic. Aside from the necessary equipment, several green plants stood in the corners, adding splashes of beautiful greenery to the clean and orderly surroundings.
"Lord Debiru, nothing unusual has been discovered." The mage responsible for watching the sea turned around and replied.
Debiru nodded. "During this period, keep a close watch on the sea. The Third Fleet is fighting a decisive battle against the pirates. Whether it wins or loses, something will happen at sea. You must observe carefully."
"Lord Debiru, rest assured. These past few days, we have divided into three shifts to monitor the sea. To ensure nothing slips through the net, we observe without missing a moment. If anything happens,