Chapter 394

Chapter 394: Encounter in the Fog.

“Uneasy?” After he heard Agatha’s reply, Bishop Ivan’s tone changed. He stared at Agatha and said: “For a Saint, feeling ill at ease is not a good sign… What happened? When did it start?”

“Right after we came back from that sewage treatment center that was struck by corruption,” Agatha did not hide anything. She knew the old Bishop in front of her was the person she trusted most in the whole city-state. “I keep feeling that I forgot something, as if… I left something there. But I have gone over everything that happened there many times, and I did not find anything wrong.”

“That sewage treatment center…” Bishop Ivan’s voice was low. He of course knew what Agatha was talking about. They had reported that matter at once to the Cathedral and City Hall, and the later investigation and purification work was still going on in full. “I have been watching that case too. The one surviving manager is still in the asylum receiving treatment. The dozen or so original workers of the plant are still missing. And from the sampling reports on site, you should have already Purified all the corruption in the entire facility at that time. In theory, there should be no hidden danger left.”

“But I still feel uneasy,” Agatha admitted. “Even though there is no proof, I am sure I have overlooked something.”

“…Have you checked your own mental state? What were the results of your Cognitive Calibration?”

“Of course I checked,” Agatha nodded. “I did both self Cognitive Calibration and a subconscious check with a psychiatrist’s help. Nothing was wrong.”

Bishop Ivan did not speak for a moment. After a few seconds, he broke the silence with a thoughtful tone: “Then it may be that something inside you is sounding a warning. It may be from your subconscious, it may be from your Spirit Sight, it may even come from your faith.”

“I will go back there and check again,” Agatha nodded. “Before that, I want to go to the prayer room and pray for a while. I hope the Lord can give me some guidance.”

Bishop Ivan gave a slight nod: “Go. I hope prayer can ease your troubles.”

Agatha made a small sound of assent, stood up, and left the platform where the spirit coffin was parked. A moment later, she disappeared beyond the doors of the Meditation Chapel.

The broad chapel fell quiet. Only Bishop Ivan, who looked almost like a mummy, still sat on the edge of the spirit coffin. He watched the direction where Agatha had left, as if lost in thought. After a long time, he finally sighed softly and raised his hand to trace the God of Death Bartok’s Triangular Sigil over his chest: “May the Lord guide us…”

In the silent Meditation Chapel, the candelabras set into the wall niches burned quietly. The flames trembled without a sound, and the smooth black marble floor, polished like a mirror, reflected the light from each stand. Around those flickering flames, it seemed as if many vague phantoms flashed by and vanished.

…

Outside Frostholm, along the border of the Nearshore Waters, a patrol ship flying the Frostholm navy flag was sailing along the prescribed route, patrolling the sea.

A navy commander stepped onto the foredeck and frowned as he looked out at the distant sea. The cold light of the World’s Wound poured down from the sky, giving the rippling waves a pale sheen. Between those glints of light, he could sometimes see chunks of floating ice of different sizes. Far away, those chunks drifted in a neat, single direction, faintly forming an invisible “border line”.

The commander of course knew what those seemingly natural “floes” really were. They were not chunks of ice at all, but part of the Sea Mist Fleet.

That was the floating ice around the Sea Mist. Whenever that ghost ship under the curse appeared on the sea, such ice would appear around it. They marked that pirate captain’s sphere of influence and were also a sign of the power of the curse tied to the Sea Mist. Any ship that dared to approach the Sea Mist without permission would first receive the “baptism” of those floes. In the mild case, its movement would be blocked. In the serious case, it would be frozen solid on the sea, and everyone on board would turn into Restless Souls in the ice.

The Sea Mist often used this method to block sea lanes, stopping merchant ships that passed through its waters and charging them so-called “ice clearing fees”. In most cases, that ship did not even need to fire a single shot to finish this shameful extortion.

Of course, for now the Sea Mist Fleet had temporarily lifted its state of hostility with the Frostholm navy. Those floes would not actively spread toward the navy’s patrol ships. But their very presence was a kind of warning. The meaning they sent was clear:

Even though this was Frostholm’s own doorstep, everything beyond this line was still the Sea Mist Fleet’s territory.

The commander in his Frostholm navy uniform gritted his teeth and let out a sigh, trying hard to calm his mood.

The bigger picture mattered most. A soldier should obey his superiors’ judgment. The city-state needed safety, and that safety now needed the Sea Mist Fleet.

The lockdown of the whole sea area was above everything else.

“The sea is getting foggy again,” a junior officer came up onto the deck and muttered as he looked into the distance. “It’s almost foggy every day now.”

The patrol ship’s commander lifted his head and looked at the sea ahead.

Just as his subordinate said, mist was rising over the sea. The fog, as thin as gauze and as thick as a curtain, was slowly gathering on the surface and spreading around that “ice border”. The light of the World’s Wound filled the mist and made the area look deathly pale.

“Most likely the Sea Mist is doing this again,” the commander said with a frown. “Wherever that ship goes, the floating ice and fog follow.”

“The Sea Mist has not moved from its position,” the subordinate said. “Maybe that ‘Pirate General’ just wants to show he is still there?”

“No matter what he thinks,” the commander shook his head. “We must not go near the fog or the ice. Frostholm cannot be the first to break the agreement.”

“Yes, sir.”

The commander made a brief sound in reply, then looked again at the distant layer of fog. A hint of doubt came to his face: “But then again… is the fog a bit thicker than usual tonight?”

The subordinate followed the commander’s gaze. The fog spreading around the floating ice really was still growing, and it looked denser than on past days. Deep within the thickening mist, there seemed to be something faintly swaying.

“The fog really is getting thicker…” the junior officer muttered. “Is there something in the fog?”

“…Something is wrong.”

The patrol ship’s commander spoke, then his expression suddenly changed. He quickly grabbed his binoculars and looked toward the thickest part of the fog. After a moment of careful checking, he finally confirmed that something really was moving inside that dense mist. It was very large and was coming closer.

It was a ship!

“It’s a ship, coming from inside the Sea Mist Fleet’s patrol area,” the commander lowered the binoculars and said quickly. “Signal them with lights. The Sea Mist Fleet is crossing the boundary. Tell them to stop at once.”

“Yes, sir!”

The junior officer answered loudly and ran quickly toward the rear of the deck. Before long, the large searchlight mounted on the upper level of the patrol ship lit up and sent a series of light signals toward the thick fog.

However, the warship’s shadow moving inside the dense fog showed no sign of slowing down.

The patrol ship’s commander stared hard at the blurry shadow in the fog. He saw that the other ship was not slowing at all. It was speeding up and charging straight at them. As it came closer, the fog over the surrounding sea also seemed to spread on purpose. In just a short time, the rolling mist had already spread to within a hundred meters of the patrol ship and even started to close in from all sides.

“Damn pirates!”

The patrol ship’s commander could not help cursing under his breath. He turned and ran quickly to the bridge. As he rushed to the control station, he shouted: “Engines astern, turn the ship! That thing is heading straight for us. Any reply from the Sea Mist Fleet?”

“No response to the light signals! No answer to short-range calls either!” A soldier at the nearby console shouted back. “We’re calling the Sea Mist on the agreed frequency, but there’s still no reply from their side… wait, we have a response!”

The communication light on the console suddenly lit up. The automatic recorder started to clatter, and a long strip of punched paper tape slid out of the machine. The signalman grabbed the tape and quickly read the marks on it. A moment later, he looked up in confusion: “The Sea Mist Fleet says they did not cross the boundary. All their ships are still in place.”

“All still in place?”

The patrol ship’s commander stared, then suddenly raised his head and looked out the porthole. The thick fog had already reached the bow of the patrol ship. Even though the helmsman was trying hard to turn, the ship still could not move faster than the spreading, eerie mist. Inside the fog rolling toward them, that hazy shadow was drawing closer and closer.

“Turn! Hard to port, turn!”

The patrol ship tilted hard. The steam core let out a hoarse roar. The rudder and the side thrusters worked together with a force that seemed strong enough to tear the whole ship apart as they tried to swing it around in the fog. In the middle of the violent shaking and the many harsh noises, the patrol ship’s commander held tight to the rail beside him and stared wide-eyed at the sight beyond the porthole—

Out of the suddenly torn-open mist, a huge ship burst forth, almost brushing against the patrol ship’s rail.

It was not part of the Frostholm navy, nor was it a member of the Sea Mist. It was a mottled, rust-covered Old Era warship. The badly damaged paint on its hull and the outdated design of its bow seemed to silently tell of the long years it had gone through.

The patrol ship’s commander stared in shock as the huge vessel brushed past his own ship. It took him several seconds to react. Then he suddenly remembered an illustration and record he had once seen in an old file—

“It’s the Valiant… the warship that sank forty years ago…”