Aiden jumped down from the platform and came to his captain. After noticing that the captain's expression was particularly solemn, his expression immediately became serious as well.
"Captain, what happened?"
"An invitation I cannot refuse," Tirian looked around and then sighed, "I may have to leave here tomorrow or the day after tomorrow."
Aiden's eyes widened immediately. "There was news sent to the island? Just now? And...how come there is an invitation that you can't refuse in this cold sea?"
Tirian sighed again: "...My father."
Aiden blinked and held his breath for a long time: "...How long have you been gone?"
"I should be back soon, maybe a day or two," Tirian didn't pay attention to the subtle change in the first mate's tone. He was busy with many things and didn't have the energy to say anything else. "A messenger will come to the port to take me to the Lost Homeland. Don't announce this to the public for now. While I'm 'disappearing', you should coordinate everything."
Aiden immediately bowed his head and accepted the order: "Yes, Captain."
The first mate then paused for two seconds, as if hesitating a little, before he couldn't help but look around, approaching and whispering to Tirian: "Is he... nearby?"
Tirian thought for a moment and patted Aiden on the shoulder: "The Lost Homeland is hidden in the mist around us."
He could see with his naked eyes that Aiden's muscles were tightening little by little.
"...Captain, after not breathing for so many years, I finally feel what 'cold' means again today." First mate Aiden's voice became obviously cautious. "Are you sure the old captain...just wants to meet you?"
"I don't know, and I don't want to know. It's just that my intuition tells me that this journey should be safe," Tirian whispered, then looked back at the square, looking at the sailors who were still reluctant to disperse and were ready to party until sunrise, and then turned to look at the first mate, "But other sailors may not think so, you know what I mean."
Listening to the captain's solemn words, Aiden nodded slowly.
He knew what his captain was worried about.
The Sea Mist Fleet was huge, and apart from a few ordinary people who were bribed or hired by contract as peripheral members, most of the members of this fleet were "undeads" like himself, and these undead sailors could be strictly divided into two groups -
A large portion of them are former members of the Frost Navy. These soldiers who were once loyal to the Frost Queen were originally ordinary people. It was after the Frost Rebellion that these loyalists who still insisted on staying in the team were gradually transformed into what they are now.
In the endless battles over the past half century, in the constant clashes with the rebels, the cursed power of death and the Sea Mist itself transformed them little by little into the "undead sailors" they are today and made them part of the Sea Mist Fleet.
Another small number of sailors are the real "original backbone" under "Iron Vice Admiral" Tirian: they are members of the Lost Homeland Fleet.
Duncan Abnomar is their "old captain". They witnessed the transformation and fall of the Homelander with their own eyes and experienced the ups and downs of this century. They once followed Tirian to be loyal to Frostbite and watched Frostbite turn upside down in the drastic changes - these sailors who have been loyal for a century are called the "first batch", and those who have been loyal for half a century are called the "second batch".
Aiden himself and the half-baked old pastor "Will" with a sunken head were both members of the "first period".
A century of experience has enabled Aiden to see many things hidden beneath the surface.
The Lost Homeland and "Captain Duncan" have different meanings in the eyes of the two groups of sailors. When the same news is put in front of them, the reactions it triggers are complex and uncontrollable.
Now even Captain Tirian himself is not sure about the true status of the Lost Homeland and the "Old Captain", let alone whether this status is truly long-lasting and stable.
Therefore, before things become clear and the situation is guaranteed to be under control, the news that the captain is heading to the Lost Hometown cannot be released - otherwise the island will absolutely become a mess.
At this moment, Tirian's voice came again, interrupting Aiden's thoughts: "...Send the dancers back to Cold Harbor early tomorrow morning."
"Send them back tomorrow?" Aiden didn't know why the captain suddenly brought this up. "Are you dissatisfied with them?"
"The Lost Homeland is nearby. It's better not to let ordinary people get close to this island recently." Tirian shook his head and made up an excuse. After all, he was embarrassed to say the reason of "my father was shocked". Then he paused and added, "But your last sentence reminded me. If we send them back directly, the mean 'Cutthroat Martin' might blame the girls... I will write a letter later and you can give it to the head dancer."
Aiden immediately bowed his head: "Yes, Captain."
"Yes," Tirian nodded, and then seemed to remember something. "By the way, when I came here just now, I saw a dancer stop and say something to you. Seeing you look so helpless...what did she say to you?"
Aiden was a little embarrassed for a moment: "She said that my head shape is very sexy..."
Tirian looked silently at the first mate's shiny head.
"...Cold Harbor's dancers are indeed passionate and unrestrained - they have very passionate personalities and very unrestrained aesthetics."
※※※
Dark, lonely, cold and silent.
The endless desolate wilderness stretched out in the darkness. There were no plants or animals in the wilderness. Only rugged rocks and strange ruins that had been weathered and decayed for who knows how many years were collapsed and dilapidated, eternally silent in the desolate atmosphere. From time to time, strange phantom lights flashed across the sky and floated in the darkness, occasionally illuminating the wilderness, and occasionally casting mottled and distorted shadows on the earth.
A hollow black shadow trudged through the wilderness.
He didn't know how long he had been traveling, nor did he know his name when he started out. He only remembered that he seemed to have set out a long, long time ago, and the superficial impression left from that time told him that he should have reached the end long ago and should have rested in some peaceful place long ago.
What delayed my journey and made me keep trudging through the wilderness?
The hazy and empty black shadow was thinking, but soon these intermittent thoughts were swallowed up by the larger void, so he could only continue to move forward according to instinct.
But suddenly, he stumbled.
Did I seem to have tripped over something? Or was I hit by something invisible?
The hollow black shadow looked down at itself and saw that some colors seemed to emerge on its hazy body.
He raised his head and continued walking forward.
More colors appeared on his body, and more solid details appeared on his body surface, which was originally as illusory and undulating as fog.
A set of clothes appeared on the human-shaped black fog, which was the sailor's uniform.
He gradually took on a face, a middle-aged man with black hair.
His steps gradually became steady and light, and the rugged gravel under his feet became much smoother without him noticing.
More and more memories began to surface in the depths of this soul.
First came the name, then the moment of death, then the sunny youth, the tender and vague memories of childhood, and the fleeting warm glimpses in the cradle.
He trudged towards the end of the wilderness, and in the darkness, shadows of varying sizes emerged from time to time and merged silently with him.
It seemed as if the individuals that had been torn and separated from him had now returned to their correct positions one by one.
Suddenly, the figure stopped at the end of the road.
Christo Barberi looked up in surprise and saw that he had walked onto a road without knowing when. On both sides of the road were ancient stone pillars standing silently. At the end of the road, an extremely tall and magnificent gate with ancient and complex patterns stood in the air.
The door was open, but the interior was always dim and no details could be seen on the other side of the door.
There was only one strong urge emerging from the heart of this soul - to pass through that door and to rest opposite that door.
The middle-aged man in the captain's uniform walked forward subconsciously. There was no one in front, behind, or around him, but he seemed to be able to feel that at the same time, there were countless souls walking on this road, also walking towards the door - there are dead people on the road every minute and every second in the world, but in front of this lonely door of life and death, the souls seem unable to see each other.
However, just as he was about to touch the door, Christo stopped.
A tall figure suddenly appeared in front of the door, blocking his way.
He was a guard wrapped in bandages, wearing a gloomy and complicated robe, a hood on his head, and holding a long staff in his hand.
He is the gatekeeper here.
Christo looked at this nearly three-meter-tall "giant" with some fear. His memories of his life as a living being came flooding back, allowing him to regain the ability to talk to people: "Are you... the master of death?"
"No," the gatekeeper began, his voice hoarse and deep from beneath the bandages, "I am only His messenger."
Crystal's tone was somewhat sad: "I'm not qualified to step through this door, am I?"
He recalled more things.
Including the details of his own death.
However, the majestic gatekeeper just lowered his head and looked at the soul at the door quietly for a moment, then moved slightly to the side: "Please come in, your debt has been cleared."