Chapter 440

Chapter 440: Sea Mist and Frostholm

The night was deep. The light, fluttering snow had kept falling into the second half of the night and still had not stopped. The snow was not heavy, yet it still laid a soft, silent cover over the whole city. The not-too-thick layer of snow was like pale bandages, wrapping the many scars the city had earned in the disaster and hiding all the wounds that had not yet had time to heal.

Broken buildings, bloodstains no one had had time to clean, scrapped Steam Walkers, barricades waiting to be torn down, and the dried “mud” that clogged almost every corner of the city and would take who knew how long to clear away.

The mirror world invasion had faded, but the “by-products” brought by this Visions disaster remained in the city as solid matter.

The Church had already, according to procedure, taken over the running of the city after nightfall.

Guardians carrying consecrated lanterns kept their gaze on the streets under the veil of night. They watched every shadowy corner that the gas streetlamps could not fully light, and they stayed wary of any strange sound that reached their ears.

The air held the drifting scent of burning incense. The soft, murmured benedictions of Nightwatch priests carried a calming strength.

“Tonight seems very quiet…” A black-clad Guard stared at the dark patches along the street. After a long time, he suddenly muttered to the comrade beside him: “I thought there would still be fierce fighting tonight.”

“Everyone thought that,” another Guard spoke softly. She was a woman with long hair falling over her shoulders. Several strips of cloth, covered in Prayer text, were sealed with wax onto the consecrated lantern at her waist, marking her as the leader of this squad. “After such a serious supernatural disaster, and with so many priests sacrificed… in theory, the city’s defenses should be at their lowest point tonight.”

“The other Nightwatch squads don’t seem to have reported anything. There hasn’t even been a single whistle in the whole night.”

“In any case, keep your nerves tight. Before the Sun rises, we cannot relax for even a moment.”

“Yes, Captain.”

The woman called captain gave a small nod, then looked toward another squad working not far away.

A delicate Brass Censer hung from a thin chain, sending out curls of faint smoke. A silent Monk used the incense to give divine blessing to the street, murmuring prayers to the God of Death. A few low-ranking priests with him carefully scraped samples of the black sludge from nearby walls, lampposts, and the ground, then sealed them into glass bottles.

Once dried, that “mud” had lost all activity. It no longer twisted into terrifying shapes. When the scraper cut through its surface, its texture was like some half-dry, fine-grained… “paint.”

“How much of this ‘sludge’ do you think there is in the city now?”

She could not help turning her head to mutter to the subordinate beside her.

“Who knows? I heard what we see on the surface is still the small part. The sewers and the subway are the worst, and there are several wastewater treatment plants that are almost packed full of this stuff. City Hall is a mess right now. No one knows how long it will take to clear it all.”

“Cleaning sludge… at least that’s the easiest trouble we have to face,” the female captain sighed lightly and lifted her head to look toward the end of the street. “The trouble Frostholm faces now is not just this strange mud.”

The black-clad Guard next to her also raised his head without thinking and looked in the direction his captain’s gaze had gone.

That was the Harbor district at the edge of the city-state. Lights blazed there, and faint sounds drifted over.

“Yeah, it’s not just the mud…” the black-clad Guard muttered, his tone odd and a bit tense. “A whole Sea Mist Fleet is still surrounding this city.”

…

In the eastern Harbor district, the lights were bright and the noise of people filled the air.

As the only harbor that had held off the Monster invasion through the whole defense and stayed in operation, the East Harbor was still busy even after the battle ended.

All docks and engineering machines were in use. Every worker who still had any strength had to work overtime. Several piers that had taken minor damage in the daytime battle had already received quick temporary repairs so that ships in better shape could dock and rest there.

For many people in the city, the battle was over. Tonight was their time to recover their spirits and heal their wounds. But for the Frostholm navy and the Harbor logistics units, the battle still went on. Many ships were badly damaged and needed repair. Many wounded still needed treatment. And beyond all that, they faced a problem even more tricky and more complex:

The Sea Mist Fleet, their temporary comrades for the day, and their deep nightmare of the last fifty years.

That largest, strongest “ghost ship,” the one people in Frostholm had used for fifty years to scare naughty children, was now moored beside the biggest pier in the East Harbor.

Its towering bow rose into the veil of night. The gun emplacements and bridge on its deck formed ghostly silhouettes in the wind and snow. Light from the shore fell on the armor belt and reflected back a pale glare that brought to mind bare bone. On the steel giant’s side, along the rail facing Frostholm, a wide banner flapped in the wind. Rough letters were painted on it, clearly scribbled in as a last-minute idea:

“Sea Mist Venture Capital Company, temporary survey and visit ship stationed at Frostholm.”

Even the most battle-hardened Frostholm soldiers had never seen anything like this. Anyone walking past the pier at this moment would have to stare at those rough letters for a long time, fighting the wild urge to slap themselves awake a few times.

“Captain,” First Mate Aiden crossed the deck and came up behind Tyrian, who was standing at the rail and looking down. “The banner is up, just like you said. We tried to make it look friendly.”

Tyrian gave a quiet grunt in reply, then raised his hand and pointed at the pier below. soldiers and workers sometimes stopped near the sea mist, standing there uneasily to watch the ship. Tyrian said: “But they still look pretty nervous to me.”

“I don’t know why. Maybe people in Frostholm these days just scare easier,” Aiden said as he rubbed his smooth, bald head. “Should I tell the men to go down and chase off the ones standing around and staring?”

“No need,” Tyrian thought for a moment and shook his head. “Father ordered us not to clash with the city-state again. At a tense time like this, we shouldn’t irritate these easily startled Frostholm folk.”

Aiden shrugged. “All right then, since it’s the old captain’s order.”

“How is everyone doing?” Tyrian suddenly asked after a short silence. “I mean the Second Generation sailors.”

“Well… after half a century, we’ve come back to this familiar place again,” Aiden sighed softly, speaking with feeling. “It’s impossible for the ship to be calm. Right now, almost every compartment is talking about docking here, and about dealing with the Frostholm navy again. Even the first-generation sailors have been affected and are talking with them.

“Some are looking forward to it. Some resist it. More of them are just lost, because no one ever imagined how this day would go. But… everyone will support your decision. They are waiting for your orders.”

For a while, Tyrian did not speak. In his mind, he seemed to see again the scene he had watched earlier from the bridge.

The Queen’s second order after half a century: “Protect Frostholm.”

Was that really true? Was that the power the Queen had left behind, or only a simple illusion?

It no longer seemed to matter.

The Queen had once ordered the Sea Mist Fleet to stay away from the main island of Frostholm. Now he had brought the fleet back here. Maybe… the Queen’s order back then had been for this very day.

“In any case, we came all this way,” Tyrian breathed out lightly. The air from his mouth and nose turned into white mist in the cold night. “The Commander here wants to host his ‘comrades.’ That is fine. I should go and greet them.”

“Want me to go with you?”

“Yes. And bring a few more people who know how to behave. Tell them in advance that this time, we are not here to fight.”

“All right,” Aiden nodded, then could not help asking one more question: “Uh… any other requirements for the people coming along?”

Tyrian thought about it. “Faces mostly in one piece. Limbs still attached to the torso. No ‘parts’ falling off while they walk. Use your own judgment. As long as their clothes can cover most of the holes, it will do.”

“Got it, Captain.”

…

In the Harbor defense office, Chief Commander Lister was checking his uniform and medals one last time.

He had seen big occasions before, but even as a well-trained career soldier, he still felt a bit uneasy about the “occasion” he was about to face.

It was not because it was too grand, but because it was something that had never happened before.

He was going to meet the leader of the Sea Mist Fleet. After fifty years of standoff and hatred, the fleet that had once “defected” from the city-state had come back.

Many parts of the city-state were still in chaos. The Governor’s disappearance had left City Hall in a blind panic. Even so, in the middle of all this disorder, he had still arranged this special reception.

Because he knew that today’s Frostholm could not bear any further damage. No matter what the officials and advisers over at City Hall thought, he had to keep that fearsome ghost fleet calm. If there was ever going to be peace with that “Pirate Lord,” then this moment was probably the only chance.

He fastened the last button and let out a slow breath.

Then he lowered his head and picked up a new breast badge from the desk. It showed his new rank of General. He calmly let his gaze trace every line carved into it.

“A battlefield promotion, huh… Well, someone has to step up.”

He lifted his head and, facing the mirror, carefully fixed the badge to his uniform.