Chapter 362

Chapter 362: The Sinking Island

Agatha stepped forward and spoke in a serious tone: “Where did that ‘ship that never arrived’ come from?”

“It departed from The Harbor, Pland, took on supplies once at Lunsa, then again at Cold Harbor,” the soldier who had come to report answered at once. “Frostholm was supposed to be its final stop—until the resupply at Cold Harbor, everything about that ship was completely normal.”

“Damn it…” Colonel Lister pressed hard on his forehead, his mood clearly very bad, and said: “We already have more trouble than we can handle… and now another ship vanished just as it was about to reach Frostholm… We barely have the energy to deal with our own city, let alone anything outside its borders…”

Agatha turned her gaze on the Defense Commander and spoke in an especially grave tone: “But as you said, Colonel, it vanished when it was just about to reach Frostholm—so we cannot rule out that it was also affected by some kind of supernatural Vision.”

Lister looked up: “You mean…”

“Frostholm is being tainted by some sort of supernatural power. Anomaly cases keep breaking out in the city. The Sea Swallow incident proved that this ‘strangeness’ is not limited to the main island. Now another ship, the White Oak, has gone missing at the edge of our coastal waters. I have reason to suspect that a ‘Visions’ event on a scale far beyond what we imagined is covering the entire Frostholm region—not only the land under our feet, but also a large stretch of the surrounding sea.”

Lister braced his hands on the table. After a few seconds he suddenly looked up: “We need to widen the blockade and warn every nearby city-state. Frostholm’s corruption is spilling outward. A simple physical blockade may not work at all.”

As he spoke, he suddenly stopped. He bit his teeth, clearly torn. Agatha of course noticed: “What else is troubling you, Colonel?”

“…I’m afraid we have to talk to that Pirate Lord,” Lister said, his face dark. “Though I personally, really, really do not want to do it.”

“You mean… Tyrian Abnomar?” Agatha’s tone also changed a little. Though she served as the city’s Gatekeeper, she was still a native of Frostholm, raised on horror stories about the Sea Mist Fleet. “If you don’t go to sleep, Captain Tyrian will come during the thick fog and carry you away” was the deepest childhood memory of every Frostholm native under fifty. Agatha was no exception. “Do you think he will agree to talk with us?”

“Not necessarily a negotiation, but at least a conversation,” Lister said, lifting his eyelids and fixing his gaze on the Gatekeeper before him. “He arrived here at the most sensitive possible moment, yet he has not taken any further action. I once suspected he was linked to the ‘replicas’ appearing inside and outside the city, but now he looks more like he is simply sealing off this region—just as we are. We have to send someone to speak with him, at least to figure out what he intends to do.”

“…Legend says he is a cursed man, cold and mad, whose breath is as icy as the winds over the Frost Sea, and whose gaze can freeze the sea itself,” Agatha said softly. “Who could serve as this ‘Envoy’?”

“Those stories are exaggerated. Anyone with a bit of access can find out that the Sea Mist Fleet has fairly normal channels of contact with many powers on the Frost Sea. That so?called ‘Sea Mist Venture Company’ even has an ‘office’ in Cold Harbor. That Pirate Lord is simply especially cold toward Frostholm,” Lister sighed softly. “The Envoy problem will be solved. Our city has never lacked for brave soldiers, and besides…”

He suddenly stopped, lifted his head in thought, and looked toward a certain direction outside the window.

“Lady Agatha, did you just hear something strange?”

“A strange sound?” Agatha frowned and also raised her head to look outside. Almost at the same time, she too heard some distant, low, odd noise.

It sounded like a continuous humming, yet it was unlike any sound she knew of in the natural world.

It came from the direction of Dagger Island.

On the Frostholm Nearshore Waters, an Ironclad Warship with a white hull and three main guns cruised slowly along, flying the Queen’s flag. A short, stocky captain stood at the bow, watching the distance through a spyglass. He wore a Guard Corps uniform from half a century ago, the kind once issued by the Queen. Yet there was a gaping hole in his abdomen, so wide you could see straight through him. The torn cloth around the wound floated in the air as if soaked in seawater, and now and then a string of bubbles appeared from nowhere.

He was a member of the Sea Mist Fleet, captain of the powerful warship Sea Crow, Nixon.

He gazed toward the small island in the distance, with its winding shoreline.

On the sea in that direction, a few small, dark shapes prowled back and forth.

They were Frostholm’s navy ships. They blocked off Dagger Island from the other side, and at the same time watched every move of the Sea Crow and the other nearby Sea Mist vessels with great care.

“Those ships are really annoying,” a Sailor strolled up beside the short, stocky Captain Nixon and said: “Can we fire a few shells at them to say hello?”

“No, unless you want General Tyrian to stuff you into the engine room and churn you for twenty?four hours,” Nixon said without even turning his head. “We are not here to fight the people of Frostholm. In the General’s words, for now we stand on the same side as they do.”

“Fine,” the Sailor shrugged. “They’re blocking the other side of Dagger Island and we’re blocking this one. Not bad ‘cooperation,’ I guess. But if those guys lose their heads and really come too close, they can’t blame us if our guns ‘misfire,’ right?”

“If they misfire, you’ll be the first one we launch,” Nixon glanced back at his subordinate, then turned his eyes again to the distant island. “Dagger Island… tch. I still remember standing guard on it back in the day.”

“Back then it still had Boiling Gold to mine. There was even a town on the island,” the Sailor sighed. “Ah, those good days are gone for good.”

Nixon frowned, as if he wanted to say something more, but suddenly he seemed to hear a sound. His expression turned serious at once.

A strange buzzing sound… reached his ears.

“What’s that noise?” The Sailor beside him reacted at once, his face tense. “Did those Frostholm ships make it?”

“I don’t know, but the Frostholm ships aren’t doing anything suspicious…” Nixon quickly raised his spyglass. “They don’t seem to know either… wait, Dagger Island is shaking!”

He jerked the spyglass down and stared in shock at the distant sea.

A hazy shroud of mist was rising from the direction of Dagger Island. The deep humming came from there, boring into his thoughts and churning his mind. He saw the island come alive. Blurred tendrils spread from its edges, rising and writhing within the mist, stirring the surrounding sea and fog again and again. The island itself slowly sank, while countless huge Shadows rose on its surface, looming in the fog like giants getting to their feet.

Nixon froze for a moment, then hurriedly raised his spyglass again, wanting a closer look at what was happening on the island.

Yet just as he was about to do so, a thunderous boom suddenly rang out from that mist?filled stretch of sea. It was followed at once by countless rapid explosions. Smoke billowed up over the island and blended with the surrounding sea mist. Flashes and pillars of fire shot into the sky, clear to see even without a spyglass.

Dagger Island had been detonated. Every installation on the island was blowing up, and every so?called “ultimate safety measure” pointed to the same answer: Protocol Twenty-Two, Nitroglycerin charges.

Nixon stared, dumbstruck, at the scene. It took him a moment to grasp what had happened, and then what he saw next once again went beyond his imagination.

Dagger Island was sinking, like a warship whose hull had been blown open, dropping fast amid the chain of explosions.

“The island is sinking?” came his subordinate’s shocked cry beside him. This Sailor, who had served on ships for more than half a century, had never seen such a sight. “The people of Frostholm… blew Dagger Island to the bottom? They can sink an entire island?!”

“Nonsense! There’s no such explosive in the world—how could an island be ‘blown’ to the bottom?!” Nixon barked on instinct, but the sight before him swallowed the rest of his words.

Dagger Island really was sinking, and the pace only grew faster. In the end it reached an unbelievable speed. One minute he could still see two?thirds of the island above the water. A minute later only a small hilltop remained. A few seconds after that… the island had vanished from the sea’s surface.

The thin mist faded. On the Frost Sea, there was no sign of Dagger Island anymore.

“Not even a whirlpool…”

Captain Nixon swallowed hard and muttered in disbelief.

The distant sea was still calm. In theory, an island sinking would create a terrifying maelstrom, big enough to swallow the greatest warships in the world. Yet in fact… no whirlpool appeared at all.

It was as if… the island had not sunk, but melted into the sea.