Chapter 310

Chapter 310: Pirate Island Under the veil of night

Ever since the eighth “No. 3 Submersible” was salvaged in the waters near Frostholm and brought to the nearby Dagger Island, The authority of the city-state had turned that island into a military restricted zone. The two nearby stretches of The route were no longer open to civilian traffic.

This, of course, stirred up all kinds of guesses. It was not only the locals of Frostholm who were speculating. Shipowners who had been forced away from Dagger Island, and the pirates and explorers nearby, were guessing too. They wondered what had happened on that island and what secret Frostholm’s authority was hiding there.

Many of the rumors even sounded detailed and serious, ranging from “researching a new type of weapon” to “holding a dangerous ritual” and so on—yet none of them were reliable.

There were not many people left in the world who still knew about the Abyssal Trench Project.

“It is getting harder and harder for our people to gather information on Dagger Island,” Aiden said with a serious face. The two of them were walking along a path at the edge of the harbor district. He turned to Tyrian as he spoke. “They have changed the level of blockade on that island. They are watching every inch of the shoreline now. It is no longer possible to get close by diving.

“As for the informants and inside men we bought or controlled, they have all been transferred away from key posts recently. They have not been exposed, but now all supplies and personnel movements for Dagger Island are handled entirely within a special list under The authority. We cannot get our hands into it anymore.”

“So it has become a full military forbidden zone…” Tyrian stopped walking. “Did they find something on that ‘No. 3 Submersible’? Or did they already open the hatch?”

“Hard to say.” Aiden shook his head. “The last time we managed to get information from the island, we saw an order issued by Frostholm’s authority. The order clearly stated that the hatch of the submersible was not to be opened, and any samples scraped from its outer hull had to be thrown into the incinerator after research.

“From that order, at least, we can see that the Governor of the city-state is still being cautious. But that was already several days ago. No one knows if anything has changed by now.”

“If they cannot reach a firm conclusion for a long time, and then a few dangerous, strange lab accidents happen, the wisest thing Frostholm’s authority could do would be to throw the submersible straight into the Crucible and stop all research. That is what we did back then.” Tyrian frowned. “But they are still locking down Dagger Island… That means they must be trying to dig some secret out of that submersible.”

“In theory, the higher-ups in Frostholm should know about the old Abyssal Trench Project. At the very least they should know how dangerous and terrifying the Deep Sea is.”

“Knowing is one thing. Understanding is another.” Tyrian shook his head. “Later generations can hear the stories of their elders from books and from word of mouth, but unless they go through it themselves, it is very hard for them to imagine that kind of fear and helplessness.

“When facing an supernatural runaway state, humans’ greatest strength is that we can ‘forget’. Our greatest weakness is also that we can forget.”

Aiden glanced at his captain. After more than ten seconds of silence, he finally spoke: “Captain, should we take some more… active measures?”

“More active measures?”

“Make contact with Frostholm’s authority and warn them, or, to be more direct… have the fleet strike Dagger Island and seize that ‘No. 3 Submersible’ for ourselves,” Aiden said plainly. “With the current garrison on Dagger Island, they should not be able to withstand a strong assault from the Sea Mist Fleet.”

He paused for a moment, then added: “Otherwise, if we let those people who know nothing hammer away at a twisted replicant that floated up from the Deep Sea, who knows when they will cause a huge disaster. It is hard to feel at ease.”

Tyrian fell into a short silence.

A moment later, he shook his head. “Even if we launch a successful surprise attack on Dagger Island, can you be sure we will find the No. 3 Submersible before Frostholm’s main forces react? That island is not small. If we take too long searching, we will have to face a City Navy several times our size.

“The Sea Mist is strong, but it is not invincible. Besides…”

He trailed off. In his mind, the face of Frostholm’s Queen appeared.

The next second, Tyrian forced himself to stop his wandering thoughts—he almost let another face, identical to the Queen’s, rise up in his mind.

“It is nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “I still need to think this through.”

“Then you should make up your mind soon.” Aiden nodded. Just then, a peal of bells rang from the direction of the harbor square. The First Mate looked up toward the sound. “Ah, it’s past midnight… Captain, why don’t you go to the square and join the fun? Adjusting your mood might help you make your decision.”

“I will pass,” Tyrian refused at once, shaking his head. “I am not interested.”

“It would be good to show your face once in a while.” Aiden egged him on with some enthusiasm. “You do not get to see Badica dancers every day—their dancing is more graceful and lively than a blacktail cliff swallow crossing a storm…”

“That is exactly what I am not interested in.” Tyrian spread his hands helplessly. “And honestly, if I showed up at the gathering as the captain, would the sailors really still be able to let loose?”

“Sure they would. Why wouldn’t they?” Aiden said casually. “You know how thick their faces are—hard as iron, and they grow back after you hit them…”

Tyrian: “…”

In the end, Aiden still failed to persuade his stubborn captain. He went alone to the harbor square to join the night’s celebrations.

After midnight, Pirate Island was still boiling with noise.

The sleepless, tireless Undying had endless energy, and there were no curfew rules on this island that had been reshaped and shrouded by supernatural power. Their celebrations could last an entire day, from sunrise to sunset, and from sunset back to sunrise again.

The high platform at one side of the square had already been turned into a stage.

Temporary wooden walls blocked the cold wind from the sea, and the braziers burning around the stage pushed back the chill of the winter night—Undying no longer feared heat and cold, but the human guests who had come to Pirate Island tonight still needed careful protection.

Young maidens from Cold Harbor were dancing passionately between the bonfires and the cold wind.

Their skirts flew, the dancers spun, the bonfires snapped and leaped in the darkness, and the sound of waves rolled on ceaselessly in the distance. The terrifying Undying were roaring beneath the stage. On mist-shrouded Pirate Island, a rare, noisy veil of night had fallen over the world.

Tyrian stopped in an inconspicuous corner at the edge of the square and looked toward the stage.

He had not come to join the gathering. He was on his way back to his quarters and was only passing by.

The weekly seafarer gathering was a “custom” that had existed back when they were still part of Frostholm’s navy. Even after leaving Frostholm, this habit had been kept within the Sea Mist Fleet.

Half a century had passed. Many things had changed, and many things had not.

Watching his old subordinates making a racket in the square, Tyrian slowly showed a faint smile. Then, all of a sudden, that smile faded a little.

He looked at the stage, at the dancers upon it. Their movements were passionate, their jumps were like startled birds, but their eyes were slightly dull and numb.

They had probably drunk in advance a potion brewed from several herbs and a small amount of supernatural catalyst. It was not a rare thing.

The potion’s power could let them resist the cold to a certain extent, but it also affected their awareness and thoughts.

It could keep them from feeling fear, leaving only the instinct of dance in their minds for a time.

Clearly, the masters of these dancers did not want their tools to ruin their peaceful business relations with Frost Sea’s pirate leader because they were afraid.

Tyrian clicked his tongue.

This was actually very common. Anyone who dared to do business among pirates and even sent people onto Pirate Island used similar tricks. After all, the Church and The authority would not get involved in their gray trade. Ordinary people had no choice but to come up with “home remedies” to fight the shadows and horrors on the Boundless Sea.

The life of pirates and “risk-taking speculators” had never been like in adventure tales, where horror was full of romance.

In a way, forcing the dancers to drink the potion was also a kind of protection for them.

Tyrian just felt it spoiled the mood—he had thought that “Cutlass Martin” would have improved after so many years, but it turned out the man was still running his “Frost Sea entertainment business” with the same old tricks from ten years ago.

He shook his head and was about to leave.

Just as he was turning away, a faint crackling of flames suddenly reached his ears.

That strange yet familiar sound of fire made Tyrian’s heart tighten at once. He almost lost his footing. Then he stared hard toward where the sound had come from.

Pale green flames were jumping on a nearby wall covered in ice. As the light spread, the ice in the middle turned black, as dark as the veil of night, and a tall, imposing figure stepped out from within it.

“Good evening, Tyrian,” the figure said. “I hope I am not disturbing your rest.”

Tyrian stared at the figure in the ice for a long moment before he finally managed to keep his expression under control and answer the greeting: “Goo… good evening, Father. Why did you suddenly…”

“There are some things I want to discuss with you, and I also wanted to see how you have been lately,” Duncan said offhandedly. “What are you doing?”

As he spoke, he raised his head. His gaze passed over Tyrian’s shoulder and landed on the distant stage.

On the young maidens who were still wearing thin dresses in the cold wind.

“…Impressive.”

“It is not what you think!”