Translator: Cinder Translations
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The night had fallen over the West Port Dock District, where Viscount Dylan was still overseeing the transport of supplies with a group of clerks.
Two days ago, he had just hosted another fleet from the Northwest Bay—the fleet led by Captain Tirpitz, who had arrived a month ago with the fleet from the Northwest Bay. Since the latter half of 1991, the Northwest Bay had been delivering supplies to the West Port almost monthly.
It was now December, and the city had just experienced a light snowfall. Inside a small house, the Viscount and several clerks were warming themselves by the fire, peering out the window at the dockworkers loading supplies onto wagons.
With winter's arrival, the stalemate between the kingdom's army and the rebels continued, and the demand for supplies from the front line was increasing. Both sides were fighting hard, with neither willing to give in, waiting to see who would collapse first.
In the past few days, Viscount Dylan had been working tirelessly, managing to assemble a convoy and working through the night at the dock to load supplies, preparing to depart early the next morning.
The fireplace was blazing, warming the small house, and a pot of meat stew from the Northwest Bay was simmering. The Viscount and his clerks were having a late-night meal, sipping some wine, and discussing recent events in the city. Gradually, the conversation turned to the terrifying incident that occurred at the port the day before—the assassination of Admiral Pike. The incident was deemed terrifying due to its unimaginable nature.
With the annual Descendant Day approaching, Admiral Pike had hosted a party at his home, inviting many friends from the military for a celebratory drink. However, an unexpected event occurred during the party.
The exact details were officially sealed, but since there were many people present, numerous rumors had leaked out, growing increasingly bizarre. Some even claimed it was the work of dark magic.
One clerk sitting next to Dylan spoke mysteriously, "My brother-in-law was a servant at Admiral Pike's residence and witnessed the entire incident. Would you like to know?"
"Cut the nonsense and get to the point."
The curiosity of the crowd, even Dylan himself, prevailed over the official gag order.
Seeing the eager expressions of his colleagues, the clerk took a deep breath and began recounting the event, though it was unclear if he embellished the story.
That night, as the party was in full swing, two servants brought in a roast beef, the main dish of the evening. The admiral and his guests gathered around to carve the meat.
Just as everyone was gathering around, one of the servants suddenly had a strange smile on his face and loudly said to Admiral Pike, "Admiral, Captain Edward sends his regards."
Before anyone could understand, the servant suddenly pulled out a carving knife and swiftly plunged it into Pike's chest.
The guests were stunned by the sudden attack and did not react immediately. However, the guards stationed around the hall quickly drew their weapons and rushed forward.
Before the guards could get close, the servant suddenly raised his hands and shouted, "Ladies and gentlemen, Captain Edward also sends his regards."
An even more bizarre scene unfolded as the servant's body began to swell, soon turning into a giant ball of flesh.
Sensing something terrible was about to happen, the guests tried to flee in fear.
With a loud explosion, the swollen "meatball" burst open, scattering limbs and bloody remains everywhere, creating a scene straight out of hell. Many surviving women went mad from the shock and began screaming and panicking.
After the cleanup and investigation, it was found that the servant's body was irretrievably shattered, likely reduced to pulp due to the explosion.
As the clerk finished recounting, everyone swallowed hard, terrified. Dylan nearly vomited the canned meat he had just eaten, overwhelmed by the shock of the scene described.
"So, the rumors of dark magic being involved were true?"
"It seems so. Normal methods couldn't possibly achieve such destruction."
"A friend in the navy told me that the entire naval command stationed in West Port was nearly wiped out by this assassination. The few who survived are now bedridden."
As the discussion continued, someone pointed out the window and said, "Hey, isn't that a fire over there?"
Everyone looked outside and saw a blaze raging in the distance.
"That's… the direction of the port!"
Dylan was exasperated. Disasters seemed to be relentless in West Port these days.
"Sir, should we help with the firefighting?" one of the officials asked Dylan, noting that it was nighttime and they had available manpower.
Dylan shook his head. "No, there are dedicated fire brigades at the port. We shouldn't make things worse. Let's focus on our own work. Let's go out and check how much has been loaded and make sure the workers stay put."
After they left the house, they could hear a commotion from the direction of the fire.
At first, they thought it was the sound of firefighters, but gradually it became clear that it was the sound of shouting and screaming.
Everyone began to panic.
"Everyone, stay calm! Clerks, organize the workers and ensure they don't run or shout."
Dylan commanded the city guard captain responsible for the warehouse, "Captain Mark, put your men on high alert. Anyone causing trouble will be executed on the spot."
Even though they were unsure of what was happening, it was clearly a bad situation, and as the highest-ranking official in the warehouse area, Dylan had to take responsibility.
Under the strict control of the guards, the workers finally quieted down. Dylan immediately sent people to investigate what was happening at the port.
Half an hour later, amidst the anxious waiting, the messenger returned.
He was covered in blood and breathless.
"Lord Dylan! Lord Mark! Bad news."
"What happened?" Captain Mark grabbed him and gave him a few swigs from a flask.
"It's pirates! Pirates have attacked!"
Everyone was shocked.
(End of the Chapter)
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