“The Moon Bay seal calibration records?”
Cecil stared at Eldrid.
The projection of Moon Bay on the wall had not yet faded.
The deep blue light outlined the coastline, where several spiritual gaps looked as if they had been physically gouged out of the map.
“In the files on this sea beast invasion, there is absolutely no mention of a seal.”
“How do you know about it?”
“Because the Storm Inquisition participated in the maritime risk adjudication of BC 657,” Eldrid answered calmly.
She was not surprised by Cecil's questioning.
“After the Moon Bay seal was completed back then, the Fortville family submitted the first complete calibration record.”
“A copy of that record has always been preserved in the Inquisition's old maritime archives.”
Saying this, the old woman raised her chin slightly.
“Ms. Special Envoy.”
“You didn't think the Storm Inquisition would hand those ancient relics over to the Seventh Agency for containment without verifying them first, did you?”
“If it is indeed so important,” Cecil was not intimidated by her tone, “explain why the documentation for the confidential carriage at the time merely described it as a ‘Moon Bay relic’?”
She opened a copy of the transfer document and tapped her finger on that vague, almost perfunctory description.
There wasn't even a single clear risk correlation.
It was as if someone had picked up an ancient antique from the seashore, stuffed it into a box, and asked the Seventh Agency to keep it for them.
“If it involved a Divine Scion seal in the Moon Bay area, you should have mentioned it in the documentation.”
“This is not an omission that can be explained away by confidentiality.”
“This is a failure of duty on your part.”
The atmosphere in the reading room tensed once more.
Deputy Director Taylor stood by the table, the corner of his eye twitching slightly.
He had finally figured it out today.
As long as Cecil and Eldrid were in the same room, his main job as Deputy Director was not to investigate.
It was to prevent the two kingdom institutions from drawing up accountability notices against each other on the spot.
“To tell you the truth, Ms. Cecil,” Eldrid did not get angry, “this does indeed count as a failure of duty on our part.”
Taylor's attempt to smooth things over died in his throat.
She admitted it?
He looked at the old woman, his expression briefly showing a trace of unease.
When important figures admitted to mistakes so readily, it rarely meant things had become simpler.
It only meant there was an even larger mistake waiting behind it.
“Because that pendulum—containment object E-032—was never on the list of containment objects to be handed over to the Seventh Agency in the first place,” Eldrid said.
Cecil's gaze froze instantly.
Sir Vere also set down the records in his hands.
If the pendulum was never on the list, then the vague description in the documentation was not a simple oversight.
Someone had quietly slipped a relic related to the Moon Bay seal into the escorted cargo.
And then sent it aboard a confidential carriage that was destined to be robbed.
“We have already uncovered part of the truth regarding this matter internally.”
The third person, who had been sitting beside Eldrid taking notes, finally stopped his pen.
He closed his notebook and looked up at everyone.
He was a man in his early forties, with a slender build and a pale complexion that looked as though it rarely saw the sun.
The cuffs of his long robe showed none of the wear and tear left by Mireya's on-site instruments.
But his fingertips bore ink stains that could not be washed away.
“Joshua,” he introduced himself, “Joshua Cardell. Archives Judge.”
Taylor glanced at the notebook in front of him, which was already filled with several pages.
No wonder he hadn't said a word earlier.
This man was clearly the type who, as long as the records could speak for themselves, preferred not to speak on their behalf.
“When E-032 was mixed into the transferred items, the person responsible for the on-site verification was a resident judge of the Inquisition,” Joshua said.
“The list, the seals, and the spiritual marks on the transport boxes were all confirmed by him.”
“From a procedural standpoint, there were no anomalies.”
“After the transfer was completed, that Storm Judge disappeared.”
“We initially thought he had fled to escape punishment.”
“Later, investigators discovered his corpse in his residence.”
Joshua paused.
“The autopsy results showed that he had already been dead for two days before the transfer even took place.”
The only sound left in the reading room was the low humming of the instrument's gears spinning idly.
Since the Storm Judge responsible for the transfer was already dead, yet two days later, someone had still assumed his identity to complete the verification and place E-032 into the Seventh Agency's transport box.
“Which means,” Cecil spoke slowly, “someone took his place?”
“At least in terms of appearance, voice, and spiritual signature, it was enough to deceive the verification personnel at the time,” Joshua replied.
“What specific means were used cannot be determined for now.”
Cecil did not speak immediately.
She thought of John Baker first. That thief was a master of concealment, disguise, and spirit world techniques. For money, he would indeed dare to treat the Seventh Agency's confidential carriage like a buffet table.
But as soon as this thought arose, she dismissed it.
No. It couldn't be John.
If he could already disguise himself as the resident judge during the transfer phase and get his hands on the pendulum, there would have been no need to go to such lengths to ambush the confidential carriage.
Although that theft had caused no casualties, the risk was by no means low.
It wasn't as if he enjoyed stealing the same thing twice.
At least, no sane person would have such a sense of professional ritual.
John was merely the one who reached out at the very end.
Before him, someone had already slipped E-032 onto the list, arranged the transfer, and leaked the route and timing of the confidential carriage.
It was as if someone had set up the stage, distributed the script, and finally found a sufficiently greedy thief to open the show.
This grand play had already begun long before John ever accepted the commission.
“With all due respect,” Director Breed finally spoke, “this remains your issue.”
Eldrid did not deny it.
Breed's gaze swept across the three Storm Judges, then turned back to Cecil and the others.
“However, we are not sitting here today to assign blame.”
“If we start drawing up lists of each other's failures now, we could keep writing until the second sea beast invasion.”
Taylor let out a very soft breath.
The Director still prioritized efficiency when he spoke.
By scolding both sides at once, no one had to bother arguing over fairness.
“Everyone here knows,” Breed said in a deep voice, “the cult is active.”
“We need to resolve this issue as quickly as possible.”
The scent of gunpowder in the room subsided slightly.
At least on the surface.
Sir Vere glanced at the silent Cecil.
“Since what you want is the seal calibration records,” he turned to Eldrid, “does that mean the Storm Inquisition believes this sea beast invasion is related to the seal?”
“It cannot be ruled out,” Mireya answered.
She readjusted the projector on the table, hiding the spiritual data of the other areas layer by layer, leaving only Moon Bay.
In the center of the deep blue sea, several measurement lines extended toward the offshore waters before abruptly terminating.
The break was unnaturally clean.
It was as if the observation itself was being blocked by something.
“The measurement data here is virtually blank,” Mireya pointed to the gap.
“It could be that the branch's past observations of Moon Bay were insufficient.”
“Or it could be that the seal blocked the detection.”
“Based on existing data alone, we cannot determine whether the spiritual fluctuations originated from outside or inside the seal.”
“Hmm...” Cecil stared at the projection, her fingertips lightly tapping her arm twice.
“So you need past calibration data as a reference.”
“To be precise,” Eldrid corrected, “it is the pendulum data.”
Taylor's brow furrowed even deeper.
“What is the difference?”
“Ordinary calibration records can only tell us whether the seal was stable at the time,” Mireya explained.
“The pendulum converts the spirituality within the seal into pendulum traces.”
She took a fine needle from the instrument case and drew two different trajectories on a blank piece of paper.
One slowly spiraled inward.
The other showed several sharp deviations.
“When the seal decays naturally, the pendulum traces are continuous and stable.”
“When subjected to external spiritual interference, the trajectory will show irregular offsets.”
“Both look like a weakening of the seal, but the causes are completely different.”
Mireya tapped the second line.
“The former requires repair.”
“The latter requires finding out who is pounding on the door from the outside first.”
The explanation was straightforward enough.
Even those who were not proficient in sealing theory could understand.
“The records from BC 657 are the last known complete calibration.”
“If we can get those original pendulum traces, we can compare them with the current Moon Bay data.”
“So that lost containment object...” Taylor's expression turned somewhat grim, “was actually used to calibrate the Moon Bay seal?”
“Yes,” Joshua replied.
Taylor closed his eyes.
“Damn it...”
They had pursued E-032 for so long, only knowing that it was related to the Fortville family, souls, and Moon Bay.
Now, someone had finally told them the true purpose of this object.
But the pendulum was already lost.
And in a sense, it was the Storm Inquisition that had personally stuffed it into the Seventh Agency's box, and the Seventh Agency that had personally delivered the box right in front of John.
Breed did not continue wasting time on this matter.
He immediately pressed the call bell, instructing the archives room to search the transfer directory of the old Maritime Authority.
The command was sent underground through a brass pipe.
A moment later, a muffled thud echoed from within the wall as a brass cylinder slid past at high speed.
The old archives were from too long ago.
Even if the directory still existed, they would have to dig back layer by layer through records left behind by past wars, institutional reorganizations, and warehouse relocations.
While waiting, Cecil looked back at Eldrid.
“If the records show that the seal is fluctuating, what conclusion do you plan to submit to the Maritime Advisory Board?”
“That it is necessary for the Navy to enter the outer perimeter of Moon Bay,” Eldrid replied. Without hesitation.
Cecil pressed: “And the main cannons?”
“Without a real-time target, the Inquisition will not provide legal coordinates for any gun barrel,” Mireya said.
“An abnormal seal only proves that there is a risk in Moon Bay.”
“It does not prove where the Octowin should fire.”
“Much less does it prove that firing won't make things worse.”
Cecil's expression softened slightly.
This at least meant that the Storm Inquisition was not prepared to provide Thomas with that final signature.
But she still did not lower her guard.
“Do you still plan to enter Moon Bay yourselves?”
“Only to conduct measurements on the outer perimeter,” Eldrid replied. “We will not go near the core sealing area. If you are concerned, you can send someone to supervise the entire process.”
“I certainly will,” Cecil said.
Their gazes locked once more.
The silver Storm Scales swayed gently over Eldrid's chest.
The spiritual circuits around Cecil glowed with a faint blue light.
One believed in the judgment of the raging sea.
The other followed the principles of law within the Origin Web.
Neither had any intention of relinquishing the initiative entirely to the other.
“The raging sea may believe in judgment,” Cecil said. “But the arcane believes in a controlled judgment.”
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