Chapter 410

Chapter 410: Fog Panic.

The clicks of switches being pressed kept sounding in the secret room. Metal springs hummed with a steady rhythm as they connected and disconnected. Invisible signals were sent up to the roof and transmitted by an antenna disguised as a weather vane, while messages from the Sea Mist Fleet were sent back into the room, transforming into the clacking of relays and neat rows of round holes on a strip of paper.

With headphones on, Nemo sat at the desk, listening to the sounds in his ears while he tapped his fingers on the tabletop in slight irritation. A young woman in a waitress uniform stood beside him, picking up the paper strip that had just been spat out by the punch-card machine and reading the pattern of holes.

After a while, Nemo pulled off his headphones and leaned back in his chair. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long breath.

“Captain Tyrian has already started fighting the strange fleet that appeared in the fog. The Frostholm navy’s situation is unclear for now, but it doesn’t look good,” the young woman holding the paper strip lowered her voice and spoke nervously. “Yet there hasn’t been a whisper of news in the city…”

“The thick fog has cut off all civilian news channels. Even if the residents on the coast hear the guns, they won’t know what is happening. The city authorities have to keep order in the inner districts—panic on a large scale won’t help the navy at all,” Nemo said, still pressing his brow. “What’s it like out on the streets? And in the tavern?”

“The Constable units have put the whole city under martial law. The streets are very quiet now, but just now I thought I heard gunshots from far away. Two steam walkers passed the corner of Oak Street and hurried north,” the young woman answered. “The tavern is still fine for now. We have enough fuel for lighting, but…”

“But?”

“There are more than a dozen guests trapped here by the thick fog. The streets are already sealed, and the Sanctuary Worlds are full. They have nowhere to go. If this drags on, fear is going to build up among them.”

“…We still can’t drive them out onto the street. Right now, the tavern is their temporary Sanctuary World. And if we really throw people out, it will definitely draw the Constables and the Church,” Nemo shook his head. “I’ll go up in a while and see what’s happening.”

As soon as the Sea Mist Fleet informant finished speaking, a muffled muttering suddenly came from a corner of the room: “Charge again, charge again… They’ve broken through… Reinforcements are here too…”

Nemo frowned at once and stood, looking toward the source of the sound.

There was a bed there. An old man in ragged clothes lay on it, half-conscious, his back hunched. He clutched a heavy wrench from who knew where to his chest, and he did not seem to be resting peacefully.

“Old Ghost, Old Ghost,” Nemo walked over and patted the old man’s shoulder. “Having a nightmare?”

The old man clutching the heavy wrench opened his eyes in a daze. It took him several seconds to speak: “Who are you?”

“I am Nemo,” Nemo Wilkins said, his expression a bit complicated. “What were you dreaming about?”

“Nemo… Oh, Nemo, I remember now. You’re the new recruit in the Queen’s Guard Corps… Hello, I’m the pipeline engineer of the Second Waterway… A dream? I didn’t dream. I just nodded off, just nodded off… What time is it now? Should I be going to inspect the power conduits?”

“It’s already afternoon,” Nemo shook his head. “Forget about the power conduits. We’ve pulled out of that place for now. Nowhere is safe at the moment. We have to stay at this base and wait for orders—that’s General Tyrian’s command.”

“General Tyrian…” Old Ghost’s eyes went blank for a second, then he suddenly seemed to snap awake. He sprang up from the bed: “Yes! Engineer Wilson has received the order! Standing by at the base!”

Nemo’s expression grew a bit more complicated, but he still slowly straightened and returned the old man’s salute. Then he turned and nodded to the young woman in the shop assistant uniform: “Stay here and look after Old Ghost. I’ll go upstairs to check the situation.”

After giving his instructions, he left the secret room and took a hidden passage back to the tavern on the surface.

Inside the Golden Flute tavern, a heavy, tense mood filled the main hall. The guests trapped there by the thick fog, the shop assistants and the waiters on duty—almost everyone watched the street outside the display windows. But wherever they looked, they saw only dense fog and the hazy outlines of the street within it.

All the gas lamps in the city had already been lit early. The man-made lights barely pushed back the gloom brought by the eerie fog, but not enough to make this muddled world clear again. Those yellowish balls of light floated in the mist like rootless duckweed, looking like rows of eyes hovering above the streets.

Nemo came out from the kitchen door and walked to the counter.

“How is it?” he asked quietly, speaking to the shop assistant behind the counter.

“Everyone is nervous. All traffic and communication with the neighboring streets are cut off. No one knows what is happening anywhere else,” the shop assistant whispered. “But at least no one has cracked and run outside—no one wants to dash into that fog right now.”

Nemo nodded slightly: “If some idiot really does show up, don’t stop them. Let them go—but once they step through this door, even if they spend only a second in the fog, you must never let them back in. From now on, this place allows people out but not in. Anything that comes out of the thick fog is to be treated as something of the Malevolent Spirits by default.”

The young shop assistant swallowed nervously and nodded hard: “Yes, shopkeeper.”

Just then, a strange buzzing suddenly came from the street, cutting off the conversation between Nemo and his subordinate.

It sounded like some device starting up, mixed with the noise of heavy machinery moving along the street.

The people in the tavern grew restless. Some hurried nervously to the windows to see what was happening outside. Someone spotted some moving red lights in the fog and gasped in a low voice: “Steam walkers… more walkers have appeared!”

Nemo also walked toward the windows. When he was halfway there, the strange buzzing suddenly rose in pitch. A distorted loudspeaker voice blared from outside the glass—it was the broadcast device mounted on a steam walker calling out.

“Zzz… A notice to all citizens… The governor and the leaders of the Church are working to restore order in the city-state… Frostholm is currently being affected by unknown manifestations, and we are… A special reminder: residents, please remain at home or in a safe shelter facility. For your safety, stay as far as possible from anything around you that can produce a reflective surface, including but not limited to mirrors, water surfaces, and polished metal…

“We repeat: stay away from anything around you that might produce a mirror-like surface—anything at all.

“In addition, if you notice anyone near you behaving strangely, hide at once in a safe, enclosed space, and if conditions allow, seek help from the person in charge of your shelter or from the nearest Guardian or Constable. Do not rashly attack anyone you find suspicious. First ensure your own safety and isolation.

“If you feel that your own condition is abnormal, also please hide at once in a safe, enclosed space and avoid talking to others as much as possible…

“The above reminder comes from His Excellency Governor Winston and the expert advisors in the field of the supernatural.

“Notice to all citizens…”

The broadcast voice slowly faded away, and the steam walker’s red warning lights sank back into the thick fog.

Nemo lifted his head and saw all the tense eyes around him.

But he reacted quickly.

“Go get some cloth!” he shouted to the shop assistants and waiters. “Cover every glass counter and mirror!”

The others reacted as well. Though they were still anxious, the city’s residents clearly had basic knowledge and mental preparation for saving themselves in an supernatural disaster. The shop assistants quickly fetched the dust covers they usually used after closing time, and the guests still in the tavern hurried up to help. They quickly draped cloth over everything in sight that might create a reflective surface.

Similar scenes were playing out in every corner of the Frostholm city-state.

The terror of the fog was spreading over the whole city-state.

In the drifting heavy fog, Agatha had already returned to the Cathedral.

In the lounge beside the great hall, she met Bishop Ivan, who had just finished his work.

The Bishop had climbed out of the spirit coffin he usually rested in and had pulled the robes of an Archbishop over the bandages that wrapped his whole body. In Agatha’s memory, it had been many years since she last saw Bishop Ivan dressed like this.

“Even this corpse of mine has been forced to crawl up and work,” Bishop Ivan in his robes sat in a chair and spread his hands to Agatha as she entered. “I haven’t moved outside my coffin for so long that I feel like I’ve fallen apart from exhaustion.”

“If you still have a body that can ‘fall apart’,” Agatha said casually, “how are things now?”

“‘How are things’—everyone is asking that. They couldn’t be worse,” Bishop Ivan’s hoarse, low voice came from under the bandages. “replicas are attacking the city. Monsters that had been hiding are starting to show themselves. Just now, several graveyards were attacked. Those places where the dead were stored temporarily seem to have been used by the enemy as ‘passages’ into the Mortal Realm. City Hall has also sent word: gunfire has been heard on several streets in the Lower City. And out at sea, our fleet is already fighting the things that have crawled out of the water.

“The full assault has begun. But worse than the enemy’s full assault is that we still don’t know the full shape of this disaster—or this plot. Those heretics hiding in the dark… How did they do all this? Where are they hiding?”

As he spoke, Bishop Ivan slowly raised his head and looked into Agatha’s eyes.

“What did you find underground? From your eyes, I would guess you saw something.”

“I didn’t find the heretics’ lair,” Agatha said, “but I found… something even more disturbing.”

Agatha drew a slow breath, paused for a moment, then said: “It seems that our Boiling Gold mine dried up decades ago—or even longer ago.”