Chapter 275 – 110 Already Victorious, Currently Winning, Marching Towards New Victories
In the midst of Sea Blue City, a grand parade ceremony was being held.
Leading the forefront were black-robed monks carrying censers, from which a strange fragrance wafted out with each swing, perating the entire street.
Amid the wafting blue smoke, the atmosphere of the parade beca mystical and enchanting.
Four priests followed closely behind, holding aloft the relics of Saint Marco in a golden casket—ever since two Venetian rchants stole the saint’s relics from a conquered port and brought them back to Sea Blue three hundred years ago, Saint Marco had beco the patron saint of Sea Blue and indeed, all of Vineta.
Winters was in full Honor Guard armor, riding the magnificent ’Fortune,’ and holding the captured Tanilian battle flag inverted behind Saint Marco’s relics. Other Venetian officers who had returned from Red Sulfur Island did the sa.
Following the knights’ column were notably three prison carts. The Sea Blue People didn’t recognize the prisoners, but without a doubt knew they must be so bigshots from the Tanilia Federation.
They were right—in the middle cart sat none other than the notorious pirate, captain, and explorer William Kidd.
Apart from a few caught on Red Sulfur Island, Generals Serviati and Layton sent all captives back to Sea Blue to participate in the offering of captives ceremony.
However, the transport ship holding the regular prisoners tragically sank, leaving only a few important captives who were separately imprisoned alive, all now in the prison carts.
Though the procession of captives appeared sowhat pitiable, it did little to dampen the spirits of the Venetians.
Following the prison carts were two elaborately decorated carriages, from which jesters in fine attire grabbed fistfuls of silver coins and fragrance powders from bags and tossed them into the crowd, causing bursts of frantic scrambling.
It was as if Carnival had arrived early, and the entire city was stirred into action.
The streets were crowded with people, children ran to rooftops, won leaned out from second-story windows along the streets, waving bouquets and fans. Many civilians joyfully followed behind the procession.
Cannons fired in salute, bells tolled, people set off fireworks, and held a service of thanksgiving—the city beca a sea of joy and happiness.
The lengthy parade circled the city and finally returned to its starting point, the Council Square.
As the captured flags, weapons, armor, and even four cannons were thrown before the guard pronade—one by one, at the feet of Perseus holding the head of dusa—the crowd grew more frenetic.
The exuberant mood infected everyone, and each person swept up in it couldn’t extricate themselves. The gathered Venetians shouted over and over, “Victory! Saint Marco! Victory! Saint Marco!” desperately reaching out to touch the golden casket bearing the saint’s relics.
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The atmosphere was intoxicated and fervent; people thanked the gods and saint for the victory, yearning to receive even a tiny blessing. In a sense, this victory parade had turned into a religious procession.
Even the officers of the Honor Guard had beco the center of the vortex.
Reservedness was cast into the Senas Sea by jubilant girls and young won as they tossed bouquets and silk fans to the majestic knights.
Many bold won even threw their masks and veils to the officers—among the Venetians, this was an extrely, extrely suggestive gesture.
For a mont, Winters only felt objects raining down on him like drops of rain, never even the Tanilian arrows were so dense. He was just glad to be wearing full plate armor and a helt, otherwise he would certainly have been bruised all over.
After seven rounds of the cannon salute, Governor Debela appeared above the guard pronade.
The governor began a stirring speech, but Winters could hardly hear a thing.
In fact, it was unlikely anyone in the Council Square could make out the details. Each ti Debela said sothing, the crowd responded with loud cheers. The cheers even interrupted Debela’s speech several tis, forcing the governor to wait for a modicum of quiet before continuing.
But Winters didn’t care what the man on the pronade was saying. According to protocol, as soon as the governor began the speech, the Honor Guard was permitted to disband.
Fortune was getting restless with all the noise; the three-year-old was snorting in discontent, and Lieutenant Montaigne just wanted to get away from the frenetic atmosphere of the Council Square as soon as possible.
Taking advantage of the crowd’s diverted attention on the speaking governor, the returning officers communicated through gestures, dismounted, and began the arduous process of pushing through the crowd toward the edges of the square.
Of course, the Honor Guard couldn’t just leave without notice; along the way, girls eagerly stuffed jewelry, slips of paper with addresses, and handkerchiefs embroidered with family crests and initials into the young n’s arms.
A small sandalwood fan was even stuffed into the visor of Winters’ helt. With the foreign object thrusting toward his eyes, Winters instinctively dodged, only to bump into another lady’s arms.
The officers squeezed their way out of the square in a rather awkward fashion, and once in less crowded areas, were finally able to remove their stifling helts.
“Hey? Where’s Tang Juan?” asked Lieutenant Pisani, counting heads and realizing they were missing soone.
“Ah? Soone’s missing?” Hearing this, Winters was also startled. After a quick count, he realized it wasn’t just Tang Juan missing: “He couldn’t have been trampled, could he?! I’ll go back and look!”
With that, Winters mounted his horse, ready to ride back into the crowd.
Captain Lailo grabbed the reins of Fortune, saying helplessly, “You lad, really… If they didn’t follow us out, then they surely have a place to be. Don’t rashly ss up soone’s good fortune!”
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