April 5th.
City of Spellcasters - Ceylonton.
Clear skies.
Beams of teleportation light flickered across the Transmission Hall, and the dense crowd vanished without a trace.
A few curious spellcasters turned their heads, feeling somewhat fortunate as they left the Transmission Hall.
News of this quickly spread, causing quite a commotion throughout Ceylonton.
"Has the council finally sent people to clean up the orcs in the west? They've been causing trouble for a long time, haven't they?"
"It's been a full two or three years. That region is nearly in ruins, and lots of refugees are fleeing this way..."
"If it weren't for those refugees coming here, who knows how long it would've taken the council to act."
"Those stubborn old lords in the west always oppose the council to begin with..."
"Well, you can't say that. The council does care about appearances; it's just trying to put some pressure on the other side to draw those lords into its faction."
