Chapter 446: Chapter 447 New mbers of the Exiled Fleet Chapter 446: Chapter 447 New mbers of the Exiled Fleet A high-speed exploration ship with a pristine white hull abruptly surfaced from the ocean—its side barely grazing the stern of the Sea Mist, while the violent swirls of seawater caused both ships to shake violently.
Even the Undead sailors cried out in alarm under these circumstances.
Tirian rushed onto the deck, and at first glance saw his subordinates running toward the stern, with Aiden’s bald head especially conspicuous among them. At the end of the deck was the intrusive vessel almost clinging to the Sea Mist.
“What in the world is going on?”
Tirian dashed to Aiden’s side, grabbed the latter’s shoulder, and asked loudly.
“I’m not sure—it’s a ship that suddenly appeared. I almost instinctively ordered to fire,” Aiden explained quickly, “Everyone’s still tense, overly sensitive to ‘things surfacing from the sea,’ when that thing just appeared…”
Tirian let go of his first officer and sprinted toward the stern, and by the ti he arrived, dozens of crew mbers had already gathered. The high-strung sailors brandished their rifles and cannons at the opposite ship, and several sailors had already taken positions near the close-defense guns at the stern. The atmosphere was so tense it seed sparks could fly from the air.
Tirian then looked over the railing on the other side and saw a large group of sailors running out on the nearby ship. Their outfits indicated they were just ordinary sean from a civilian vessel; soone was waving a flag at the stern’s high platform, looking just as panicked as those on the Sea Mist.
Tirian furrowed his brows and was just about to discern the identity of the other ship, when a piercing noise of a horn starting up reached his ears, followed by a robust voice coming from the loudspeaker:
“Deeply sorry, this is the White Oak from the Exiled Fleet. It’s our first ti performing a Spirit Realm surfacing maneuver, and due to a mishandling, we nearly collided with your ship… Repeat, this is the White Oak, part of the Exiled Fleet…”
Listening to the broadcast, Tirian’s expression instantly stiffened, and Aiden, who had just run up, nearly slipped as if beads of bright sweat were seeping from his bald head. His voice slightly off-key, he asked, “Captain, what… what did they say they are?”
Tirian remained silent, the first thing that ca to mind was the last conversation with his father before communication broke off, and the odd smile that lingered as the mirror image vanished.
His facial expressions subtly morphed a couple of tis, then he caught sothing out of the corner of his eye and went to the edge of the deck to look down.
The reflection of the “White Oak” in the water mirrored back, but that reflection showed a Ghost Ship enveloped in shadows and dense smoke.
He finally rembered where he had seen this oddly familiar ship before.
It was the ship that had swept through the battlefield like the wind during that previous battle in the fog, its origins unclear to anyone—now they t again.
The sailors on the ship also began to notice the peculiar reflection in the water of the unfamiliar vessel, and Aiden, recollecting its origin, looked up uncertainly at Tirian, “Captain, they are the old captain’s…”
“…Father always had his plans,” Tirian’s eyes twitched noticeably, but he attempted to keep his expression more composed as he spoke, “To be honest, I never thought I’d see soone so openly claiming to be a mber of the Exiled Fleet on the radio in this era… Where did Father find these fellows?”
“Maybe they know the origins of the Sea Mist?” Aiden suggested uncertainly. “What should we do? Greet them? Invite them aboard? We have to figure out what they want…”
Tirian suddenly felt a pang in his teeth.
“Make an open radio call, ask them to send a representative over, and also, tell them to stop announcing themselves as part of the Exiled Fleet over the broadcast. There’s more than just our ship in the port area,” said the soon-to-be Governor of the City-State, a “great pirate” reluctantly adding, “Also, inform the port that they don’t need to worry— they must have seen the White Oak suddenly erge from the sea.”
At this critical mont, the sudden appearance from the sea was truly frightening.
“Yes, Captain.”
Aiden took the command and left.
After a while, Sea Mist finally established normal communication with the peculiar “White Oak,” and after a brief exchange and clarification, the other side agreed to send a representative for talks.
Not long after, Tirian saw the representative sent from the other side—a tall, slim middle-aged man with curly light brown hair, appearing smart and capable, accompanied by a young priest, boarding the Sea Mist.
“Hello, Captain Tirian—it’s an honor to et you,” the middle-aged man stepped onto the deck, his face bearing a brilliant and friendly smile as he reached out his hand, “I’m Gus, the first officer of White Oak, and this is Priest Jansen here with us.”
Tirian was a bit confused, because he never expected that soone from that mysterious, dual-natured “phantom ship” capable of traveling through mirrors and anomalies like the Spirit Realm, would turn out to be such a person.
With a radiant smile, a corporeal body, warm and enthusiastic, in full health and normalcy.
Neither mad nor wild, with all limbs intact, showing no signs of ntal or physical aberrations—was this the new mber of the Exiled Fleet? The one watched over by his father?
Despite the nurous doubts surging through his mind, Tirian still instinctively reached out and shook hands with First Officer Gus.
“Tirian Abnormal, captain of the Sea Mist, needs no further introduction,” he looked at the man who claid to be the first mate of the White Oak, his eyes still tinged with suspicion, “You said you are… mbers of the Exiled Fleet?”
“Yes, new mbers.” First Mate Gus smiled as he spoke, taking in the infamous “great pirate” before him, his mind not free from doubts as well.
While the eyepatch was sowhat intimidating, his overall deanor remained amiable, his gaze calm and rational, and his body did not exhibit the horrific disfigurent typical of the undead around him, not at all resembling a madman with a tornted mind or one corrupted by ancient gods.
Is this Captain Duncan’s eldest son? How does he not look ntally disturbed?
The two broadly defined “mbers of the Exiled Fleet” t for the first ti and simultaneously doubted each other’s sanity, then put aside their unfriendly thoughts and exchanged smiles.
“I saw you on the battlefield before,” Tirian was the first to break the awkward silence, “You were whistling through the thick fog, quite morable.”
“We were executing the order to head to Mirror Frost,” First Mate Gus explained, “after all, we couldn’t delay important matters.”
“Father’s orders?” Tirian asked casually, his gaze then falling on the young priest nad Jansen, his expression turning curious, “There is also a priest on your ship… has the Deep Sea Church beco so accommodating?”
Priest Jansen’s expression turned sowhat embarrassed, he shrugged with a wry smile, “At least for now, the Goddess has not sent down any punishnt.”
“Don’t you have a small chapel on your ship too?” First Mate Gus looked up at the conspicuous onboard chapel at the stern of the ship.
“… That’s true.”
Tirian choked a bit, smiled awkwardly, but his mind wandered to sothing else—
On Holoss, there seems to be a “cleric” miss from the orthodox church.
Father even brought a Judge from Prand onto the ship, so having so priests in the “Exiled Fleet” isn’t really strange, is it?
Realizing it was best not to delve too deeply into the secrets of the “divine,” Tirian quickly extinguished his thoughts in that regard, straightened his expression, and asked curiously, “You surfaced here in a hurry, is there another mission?”
“Oh, we are here to rendezvous with our captain,” First Mate Gus hurriedly explained.
“Your captain?”
“Captain Lawrence earlier led a marine squad into the mirrored world for a battle, then returned with the gatekeeper of Frost to the real-world City-State, and we just received news that he is returning to the ship,” First Mate Gus patiently explained, “only it seems they’ve run into a bit of trouble, Miss Martha ordered us to surface to rendezvous…”
“Ran into trouble?” Tirian’s brow furrowed unconsciously, just about to inquire for so details, when he saw his boatswain approaching quickly from the side.
The boatswain reached his side and reported in a low and rapid voice.
Tirian’s expression gradually turned curious.
Noticing this, First Mate Gus couldn’t help but ask, “Is it possible that…”
“Your captain, is he an old man wearing a white coat, around fifty to sixty years old, looking like a ghost?”
First Mate Gus paused, hesitantly, “He… doesn’t normally look like a ghost, but the rest is accurate.”
“That’s right,” Tirian spread his hands, “your captain is leading a dozen fully ard ghost sailors and a loudly shouting mummy all over the Upper City District, now invited into the police bureau, and by that I an they got lost and seem not to know how to ‘turn off’ the Spectral Flas on themselves, which caused panic among the citizens.”
Gus: “Ah…”
“Don’t worry, the police bureau knows they are not enemies, as eyewitnesses saw them fighting the City-State’s monsters and protecting the City-State Guards, they won’t be in trouble.”
“Uh…”
“Moreover, gatekeeper and Archbishop Agatha has already gone to their aid, with the cathedral as assurance, your captain should be back soon.”
“Oh…”
“In the future, try not to openly reveal your ‘Exiled Fleet mber’ identity, mainly because… it’s a sensitive matter.”
“…Alright.”
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