Chapter 957: Act 129 – The Route
The entire fleet was devoid of lights, resembling dark shoals of fish floating in the night sky. The moonlight occasionally pierced through the clouds, casting its silvery glow upon the rolling waves and reflecting the silhouettes of the fleet upon the water’s surface. The silver sails flickered between light and dark like glimmering silver, and the fleet thundered as it navigated through the air. Yet, the deeper the night became, the more silent it felt, as if the vast sky over the sacred inland sea was shrouded in an unusual atmosphere.
The atmosphere in the chart room was equally quiet. Several large maps of the Empire and the surrounding areas of the sacred inland sea were spread out on the table, one corner weighed down by a black-sheathed dagger, and another side holding a sextant or something similar. A few chairs were placed around the table, where Marjory, Charles, Afram, Earl Orkans, and another spokesperson chosen by the nobles sat. Brendel occupied the head of the table, with the sword-wielding leader of the female mercenary band, Juliette, standing behind him, as well as Himelam, who held a staff.
The ladies were reluctant to crowd with the men, standing slightly farther away and watching the discussions from a distance. In fact, besides QiYala and Oni, the other women showed little interest in such a dull meeting. Eynid accompanied the little princess of the Siphai family, and Judy stuck close to Oni, since this young girl, not yet eleven, was still afraid of being alone.
Among the crowd stood a young man dressed in the attire of a captain: a straight blue-gray coat with golden tassels on the insignia, a narrow belt, light gray trousers, and glossy black boots, wearing a pair of white gloves. He gestured on the map, saying, “My Lord, our primary task now is to determine the route. A fleet of this size cannot drift indefinitely at sea, and supplies will become a major issue. Therefore, we need to find a suitable target port, which must meet the following conditions: First, it must accommodate our fleet; second, it must be able to provide us with adequate supplies for a long time; and third, and most importantly, the attitude of this port towards us, which guarantees the first two points.”
“To accommodate a fleet like ours, it must at least qualify as a first-class port; such ports are rare around the sacred inland sea.” Afram replied, somewhat panting. The cabin was so hot that the circles of fat on his forehead and neck glistened with sweat, and the silk robe was damp over a large area. A maid tirelessly fanned him with a folding fan, yet it was still futile as sweat streamed down him like a waterfall. He wiped his forehead with a towel, continuing, “Only Cloak Bay and Meiz, those commercially prosperous areas, have such ports. I think the closest to us should be Aima, Goldwash Port, or Fatan…”
He was not as arrogant as other noble youths; on the contrary, he seemed a bit timid, possibly having been too involved in the family business and inheriting the cautious nature of merchants. After wiping away some sweat, he frowned with worry, saying, “My Lord, anchorages that qualify as first-class ports likely can support a fleet like ours for the long term. However, the Crusian may not be comfortable with us entering their port, My Lord, you originally—”
Brendel certainly knew what this overly cautious fellow was going to say; it was just that they originally thought he only had a few ships. With Afram’s family connections within the Empire, they believed it would be easy to manage port entry and resupply by reaching out to those business partners. But letting the Crusians turn a blind eye and allow such a large fleet into their port, or even just passing through the nearby waters, was no small matter, and his original connections might not come in handy.
This also accounted for the troubles caused by the Bud people. Brendel never anticipated the fleet arriving in the Empire would be so large, but he certainly wouldn’t allow Afram to express his concerns further and shot him a glance to interrupt, “I understand, you don’t need to worry. Just give your friends a heads-up to assure them, so that the Crusian don’t interpret us as their enemies.”
“Is that so…” Afram murmured to himself, wondering if it was that simple. A fleet of such magnitude suddenly appearing within the Empire’s territory would likely disturb the responsible Crusians enough to lose sleep, so to speak of reassurance seemed somewhat presumptuous.
However, after all these days, Brendel had already established an undeniable authority in the embassy, so he could only keep those doubts to himself and not voice them rashly.
Brendel’s gaze swept over the several yellowing maps and followed the rugged coastline of the sacred inland sea, as if he were contemplating. After a moment, he decisively stated, “We will go to Fatan.”
A silence fell over the room, where even a pin drop could be heard, as everyone looked to the young Earl for their final destination.
The two Crusian nobles were evidently more familiar with their homeland. Fatan was located in the Aimeblong Province, sitting at the estuary of the Golden Lance River. The province lies to the east of the Short-Maned Mountains and is positioned at the far western end of Meiz, acting as the northern gateway to the Evergreen Path. This area is the heart of the Empire’s northwestern territory, and Fatan Port is its center and one of the largest ports in the western Meiz. Earl Orkans scanned the map, frowning as he spoke, “Isn’t this too close?”
Brendel glanced at him, understanding that the concern was whether Fatan Port was too near the Evergreen Path, fearing the Jotungrund army could break through the Yasar Fortress and head north to this location. After experiencing a harrowing escape, the nobles were understandably anxious to avoid such an experience again.
He gently shook his head.
The choice of Fatan Port was not a spur-of-the-moment decision; Turiman had already chosen this port for them. Though the Bud people hadn’t specified why, Brendel believed they must hold certain information but couldn’t state it directly due to some reservations. He could even boldly guess that the People of Silver might have utilized their monitoring stations on the land, and at such a sensitive time, Turiman could only hint to him in such an obscure manner.
This brief meeting was merely to mislead the Crusian nobles, and Brendel replied, “My Lord, the White Legion still secures the Evergreen Path. The Jotungrund army won’t easily break through this line of defense. If, by any chance, the White Legion cannot stop them, then there would be no safe place in the entire Meiz region. Surely you can’t expect us to directly head into the core area of the Empire?”
Earl Orkans frowned tightly, recognizing the underlying implication in the young Earl’s words. Apart from understanding what it meant for such a massive fleet to head directly to the heart of the Empire, when the time came, they would be met with a direct confrontation from the Royal Crusian Fleet and the Hippogriff Knights defending the Imperial Capital, regardless of their goodwill or malice.
“Then,” another Crusian noble, representing the other nobles besides Lune Port, spoke up. He appeared amiable and well-meaning but seemed even more anxious than Earl Orkans: “Why don’t we go to Cloak Bay?”
The true reason for avoiding Cloak Bay was that Turiman had warned him beforehand. Most of the informed nobles from the final battlefield were now rooted in this area as staunch followers of Her Majesty. Furthermore, over the past few decades, the Silver Queen had never put to use the nobles in this region other than to firmly hold the Empire’s navy, a message that was more alarming to Brendel than any display of importance from Her Majesty to these nobles.
It was apparent that Constance regarded these individuals as an essential hidden support, only revealing them at critical moments, a classic example of a trump card. Knowing this, Brendel would not foolishly walk into their web. Between Cloak Bay and Meiz, it was clear that the former could not be approached for any reason.
But at that moment, it could not be said outright.
Brendel glanced at the speaker, his inquiry came as no surprise, and fortunately, these Crusians had not yet begun to suspect anything; they instinctively wanted to avoid danger. He smiled slightly, appearing confident as he responded, “Actually, you both need not worry so much. Simply by relying on my fleet, the Jotungrund people cannot do anything to us. The greater threat comes from the Empire’s army. You wouldn’t want to barely escape danger, only to die at the hands of your own, would you?”
“This is the Empire’s heart—the utmost caution is required in everything. The reason I chose Fatan was due to many factors. First, I do not wish to conflict with the Imperial Navy, nor do I want your Queen to feel overly anxious. Frankly, I am but a humble embassy leader, and I did not wish to complicate matters like this unless meeting such situations. Therefore, we should avoid further complicating the situation; how does that sound to you two?”
Earl Orkans contemplated for a moment, thinking it seemed reasonable. However, he scoffed at Brendel’s statement of being “but a humble embassy leader.” Has there ever been an embassy like this throughout history? They were on the verge of heading straight to the Imperial Capital, pressing Her Majesty. Wondering about this, he couldn’t help but feel puzzled, questioning what kind of offense this damn fellow had caused the Empire to be so audacious? After ruminating for a while, he slowly nodded in agreement with Brendel’s assertion.
The remaining noble, the amiable one, naturally followed Orkans’ lead and did not dare present other opinions. After a brief discussion about subsequent details, they essentially concluded that the Crusian nobles’ roles were minimal. Brendel only required them not to cause trouble. However, this sentiment left Earl Orkans feeling uncomfortable, prompting him to propose that upon reaching Fatan, he could also use some of his connections to at least guarantee the supply issues for their fleet with the Crusians.
Of course, his consideration stemmed from his own safety, after all, Brendel’s fleet was currently his only lifeline.
Once the route was confirmed, the tense Crusian nobles finally relaxed. Only then did fatigue hit them, who usually lived in luxury. After an entire day of worry and witnessing a battle followed by incessant back and forth, even someone like Earl Orkans couldn’t help but feel dizzy and soon excused himself to rest.
After the Crusians departed one by one, Brendel immediately shed his relaxed exterior and became serious. He ordered all members of the embassy to remain, with the meeting taking place in the captain’s quarters this time.
The captain’s quarters of the Akenaton were spacious and luxurious, accommodating all members of the embassy without feeling cramped, but the atmosphere in the room was heavy, surrounded by an eerie silence. Afram continued to wipe sweat, his maid no longer in sight, while Oni furrowed her brow, biting her lip. She instinctively glanced at Marjory beside her, who seemed the calmest among everyone, standing straight with unmoving brows, resembling a soldier awaiting commands from a general. This drew curious looks from the captain of the Akenaton nearby, pondering who this was. Was she another trusted aide of the Lord, someone he had simply never seen before?
Beside Marjory were a few other ladies in the embassy. Eynid and Judy looked quite tense, while the Countess of Yanfeng seemed a bit better but still lost in the shock from earlier. Only Princess Margadale remained composed, while QiYala beside her displayed a complex expression, sometimes raising her eyebrows, at times exhibiting a quirky smile, generally appearing lively and restless, making it clear she was a character known for stirring chaos.
After a long period of silence, someone finally broke the suffocating atmosphere.
It was Oni who spoke: “My Lord, I… we believe you won’t speak carelessly, but what you said seems too… too…” She initially intended to say “too far-fetched,” and in the past one or two months, she would have confidently said it out loud. But unknowingly, Brendel had established an authoritative image in their minds; even if she was unwilling to admit it, her subconscious had actually recognized this. The rude term lingered in her thoughts but ultimately didn’t escape her lips.
Brendel looked at them, choosing to reveal the truth Turiman had shared with him, not out of impulse but rather because, at this time, he needed support and recognition from his own nation. His current task was to control the Crusian nobles, preventing them from causing disruptions—and to accomplish this, he required the help of others.
The nobles from Erluin within the embassy were the supports he could depend on. In fact, only at this moment did Brendel begin to feel a sense of belonging towards the nobles of this kingdom. These young noble heirs, not yet fully influenced by their elders’ rules, embodying a rebellious spirit that radiated freedom and ideals, stood in stark contrast to the decay of this ancient kingdom.
“I believe you can judge for yourselves whether what I said is true or false,” Brendel simply replied.
Oni fell silent. If this were the first day Brendel had informed them of these matters, they might still hold some doubts. However, in truth, during their breakthrough against the Jotungrund army’s defense, this leader had foresightedly warned them that those dragons might be related to the Silver Queen. With that layer of suspicion established, and combined with what they heard today, connecting all the clues resolved all their questions.
In reality, they had long since accepted this interpretation; it was just too shocking, making it difficult to immediately shift their original understanding of the world.
But shortly after, the officer standing as straight as a spear finally spoke: “My Lord.” He said in a deep voice.
Brendel was slightly taken aback; he suddenly realized that Marjory referred to him as “My Lord,” rather than the “Leader” that others used. He looked at her with some curiosity.
“My Lord,” Marjory replied, “please give your orders. I am a soldier and know what to do at this moment.”
Brendel was surprised by the young man’s response. He had initially thought he would have to convince Oni first, yet it was this usually quiet fellow who spoke up first. He nodded slightly, then looked at the others, “What about you?”
“…My Lord, are we… going to war with the Empire?” Eynid asked fearfully.
“No,” Brendel shook his head. “But we may need to go to war with Her Majesty the Queen. However, you need not worry too much; we may not be fighting alone.”
“My Lord, are you saying someone will help us?” Afram stuttered.
“We shall see when the time arrives.” Brendel fixed his gaze on the large map of the Empire hanging on the wall of the captain’s quarters, his eyes landing on the location of Fatan Port, answering quietly. Then, he shifted his tone and issued commands: “Marjory, Afram, your real orders are about to come—listen carefully—”
Both straightened up instinctively.
“When the fleet arrives at Fatan Port, your task is to immediately take control of the port.” Brendel pronounced the word “take control” with particular weight, “by either peaceful means or force.”
He raised his head, his eyes shining like flames igniting: “Do you understand?”
The two young men were simultaneously left stunned.
