Woo!
The fierce wind howled, rain poured down in torrents, and the three-masted ship rose and fell amidst towering waves, like a toy tossed up and caught again and again by a giant.
The deep crimson in Alger Wilson's eyes faded as he found himself still standing on the deck, unchanged from the moment before.
Just then, he saw the strange glass bottle in his hand shatter with a crack, the frost within melting into water, merging with the raindrops.
In just two or three seconds, the ancient artifact had vanished without a trace of its former existence.
A crystalline six-sided snowflake briefly appeared in Alger's palm before it faded quickly, as though absorbed into his flesh.
Alger gave an almost imperceptible nod, as if pondering something, then remained in silence for a full five minutes.
He turned, walking toward the entrance to the cabin. As he reached the door, a man in a lightning-embroidered robe emerged.
The man with soft blonde hair paused, looked at Alger, extended his right hand, clenched it into a fist, and pressed it to his chest, saying, "The storm be with you."
"The storm be with you," Alger replied, his rugged, stern face void of any excess emotion, returning the gesture with his right fist to his left chest.
After the mutual salute, Alger entered the cabin and proceeded down the corridor toward the captain's quarters.
All the way there, he encountered no other sailors or crew members. The silence was so deep it felt like the inside of a tomb.
The door to the captain's quarters opened, revealing a soft, thick, dark brown carpet before him. On each side stood a bookshelf and a wine cabinet. Under the candlelight, the yellowed covers of books and dark red bottles of wine gleamed with an unusual luster.
On the desk that held the candle were an ink bottle, a feather quill, a black metal telescope, and a brass sextant.
Behind the desk stood a middle-aged man wearing a skull-adorned captain's hat, his face pale as he watched Alger approach step by step, gritting his teeth in anger as he said, "I will not submit!"
"I believe you're capable of that," Alger replied calmly, as if commenting on the weather.
"You…" The middle-aged man froze, clearly not expecting such an answer.
At that moment, Alger leaned forward, suddenly lunging forward, closing the distance between them to just the width of the desk.
Smack!
His shoulders tensed as his right hand shot out, gripping the man's throat.
Without giving him a chance to react, patches of illusory fish scales appeared on the back of Alger's hand as his fingers tightened with intense force.
Crack!
A crisp sound echoed as the middle-aged man's eyes widened in shock, his body lifted off the floor.
His legs kicked wildly but quickly went still, his eyes growing vacant, pupils dilating, while a dark stain spread in his pants, releasing a foul odor.
Alger hoisted the man up, hunching his back, and took several quick steps toward the wall beside him.
"Forget it; he's just collateral," the blond man said, waving his arm dismissively. "Finding this Tudor-era ghost ship alone will bring us enough credit."
Even as one of the sea's favored, he wasn't willing to risk diving into the water under such perilous weather conditions.
"And if this storm continues, the 'captain' won't hold up much longer," Alger nodded, observing as a crack in the wooden wall began to wriggle and repair itself at a speed visible to the naked eye.
He took a deep look, then instinctively turned his gaze toward the helm and sails.
Even separated by thick layers of wood, he knew exactly what was happening there.
There was no first mate, no second mate, no crew, no sailors—no living souls at all!
The helm and sails were eerily adjusting themselves, as though controlled by an unseen force.
In his mind, the image of the "Fool," cloaked in gray-white mist, surfaced again, and Alger suddenly let out a sigh.
He turned to look out at the raging storm and roaring waves, murmuring in a tone filled with both anticipation and fear, "A new era has begun…"
…
In the capital of the Kingdom of Loen, Backlund, in the Queen's District.
Audrey Hall pinched her cheeks, barely able to believe the encounter she had just experienced.
On the vanity in front of her, the ancient bronze mirror lay shattered in pieces.
Looking down, Audrey noticed a "crimson" glow flowing across the back of her hand, like a celestial "tattoo" of stars.
The "crimson" light gradually faded until it disappeared completely into her skin.
Only then did Audrey confirm that this was not a dream.
Her eyes sparkled, and a smile gradually crept onto her face as she couldn't help but stand up. Gathering the hem of her dress, she bent her knees in a graceful bow, as if greeting an invisible presence.
Her steps grew lighter as she spun around, breaking into a dance, performing the latest court sensation—the "Ancient Elven Dance."
Her figure was graceful, and her face radiated a bright, joyous smile.
Knock, knock, knock! Suddenly, a knock came at the door of her bedroom.
"Who is it?" Audrey froze in place, quickly arranging herself into a poised stance.
"Miss, may I come in? It's time to prepare," her personal maid called from outside.
Audrey turned her head to check herself in the mirror, swiftly schooling her expression to leave only a hint of a smile.
After taking one last glance to ensure everything was in place, she spoke gently, "Come in."
The door handle turned, and her personal maid, Annie, stepped inside.
"Oh, it's broken…" Annie immediately noticed the state of the ancient bronze mirror.
Audrey blinked and slowly said, "Uh, yes… Suzy came in earlier, you know how she always loves to cause trouble!"
Suzy was a golden retriever with somewhat mixed lineage, gifted to Audrey's father, Earl Hall, when he purchased a foxhound. But despite her imperfect pedigree, Audrey was extremely fond of the dog.
"You'll need to give her a good talking-to," Annie said, expertly gathering up the broken pieces of the mirror to avoid any harm coming to her young mistress.
Once finished, she looked up at Audrey with a smile. "Which dress would you like to wear?"
Audrey thought for a moment before saying, "I love the one Mrs. Genia designed for my seventeenth birthday."
"No way," Annie shook her head firmly. "People will think the Hall family is having financial trouble if you wear the same dress to a formal event twice!"
"But I really do love it," Audrey insisted gently.
"You're welcome to wear it at home or to less formal occasions," Annie replied, in a tone that brooked no argument.
"In that case, I'll go with the one Mr. Sades brought over the day before yesterday, with the ruffled sleeves," Audrey said, discreetly taking a calming breath, maintaining her elegant, sweet smile.
"You have such an impeccable eye, as always," Annie laughed, taking a step back and calling to the maids outside, "The sixth wardrobe—no, I'll fetch it myself."
The maids set into a flurry of activity. One prepared the gown, another selected the jewelry, a third attended to the shoes, another fetched a gauzy hat, one focused on Audrey's makeup, and yet another considered her hairstyle.
As the preparations neared completion, Earl Hall appeared at the door, dressed in a dark brown vest.
He wore a matching hat and sported neatly trimmed mustaches. His blue eyes sparkled with warmth, but the loosened skin, rounded belly, and deepening nasolabial lines gave away the toll of age on his once-handsome features.
"The brightest gem of Backlund—it's time we set off," Earl Hall said from the doorway, tapping twice on the open door.
"Father, please don't call me that," Audrey replied, standing up with the assistance of her maid, feigning a slightly troubled expression.
"Then, my beautiful little princess, it's time to depart." Earl Hall bent his left arm, gesturing for Audrey to take it.
Audrey smiled softly and shook her head. "That place is for Lady Hall, my dear mother."
"In that case," the Earl said with a chuckle, extending his right arm, "this is reserved for a father's pride."
…
Pritz Harbor, Oak Island, Royal Navy Base.
As Audrey stepped down from the carriage, holding onto her father's arm, she was taken aback by the massive structure before her.
In the nearby military harbor stood a towering metallic battleship. It had no sails—only the lookout tower remained—adorned instead with two towering smokestacks and two open gun turrets, positioned at the front and rear.
The vessel was so majestic, so colossal, that the nearby sail warships looked like mere dwarfs, clustered around this giant as if to worship it.
"Storm above…"
"Oh, my lord…"
"An ironclad!"
…
Whispers of awe blended together, and Audrey felt the same shock; it was a miracle of human creation, an unprecedented marvel of the sea!
After an indefinite amount of time, the nobles, ministers, and members of the House of Commons gradually recovered their composure. At that moment, a small black dot appeared in the sky, growing larger and occupying nearly a third of the sky, capturing everyone's gaze and filling the atmosphere with a solemn silence.
It was a massive floating vessel, with smooth and graceful lines, painted in a deep blue. A sturdy yet lightweight alloy frame supported cotton bags filled with hydrogen, while below hung a compartment equipped with machine gun ports, bomb hatches, and direct-fire cannons. The loud hum of the high-fuel steam engine and the frenzied rotation of the rear propeller created an awe-inspiring symphony.
The king's airship had arrived, descending with an imposing authority that surveyed all beneath.
The emblem of the "Sword of Judgement" with its hilt adorned by a ruby crown was emblazoned on both sides of the compartment, reflecting the sunlight. This symbol was the age-old mark of the Augustus family, tracing back to the previous epoch.
At just under eighteen years of age, Audrey hadn't yet undergone her "introduction ceremony"—the formal event led by the Queen that would mark her debut in Backlund's social circles, signifying her coming of age—so she could only watch quietly from a distance.
Yet she didn't mind much; in fact, she felt relieved that she didn't have to face the princes.
The "divine work" of humanity's conquest of the skies landed smoothly. Emerging first from the gangway were young guards with striking uniforms. Dressed in red military jackets and white trousers, decorated with ribbons and carrying rifles, they lined up in two rows, awaiting the appearance of King George III, the Queen, and the princes and princesses.
Audrey, unfazed by the sight of dignitaries, showed little interest in the royal family, instead letting her gaze drift toward the two black-armored knights beside the king, who looked as imposing as statues.
In this age of steel, steam, and firearms, there were still figures who insisted on wearing full armor!
The cold gleam of metal and the profound black of their helmets projected an aura of weight, authority, and absolute command.
"Could they be higher-sequence 'Judgement Knights'…" Audrey recalled snippets of conversation overheard from her elders and felt curious yet didn't dare approach.
With the arrival of the royal family, the ceremony officially began. Current Prime Minister Lord Aguesid Negan stepped to the forefront of the crowd.
A member of the Conservative Party, he was one of the only two men to hold the prime minister's position without being born into nobility, receiving his title as a lord due to his exceptional contributions.
Of course, Audrey knew more. Aguesid's older brother, a key supporter of the Conservative Party, was Pallas Negan, the Duke Negan of this generation!
At around fifty, Aguesid was tall and lean, with sparse hair and piercing eyes. He looked around and said:
"Ladies and gentlemen, as you can see, this is an ironclad ship—a true game-changer. It is 101 meters long, 21 meters wide, with a high freeboard design. The main armor belt is 457 millimeters thick, and it displaces 10,060 tons. It boasts four 305-millimeter main guns, six quick-firing cannons, twelve 6-pounder guns, eighteen six-barrel machine guns, and four torpedo tubes, reaching a speed of up to 16 knots!"
"It will be the true ruler of the seas. It will conquer the ocean!"
The nobles, ministers, and members of Parliament stirred with excitement. Just the Prime Minister's description was enough to inspire awe at the terrifying power of this ironclad, let alone witnessing the real thing right before them!
Aguesid allowed himself a slight smile, added a few more words to his speech, and then turned to King George III, bowing deeply.
"Your Majesty, please do us the honor of naming her."
"Let her be called *Pritz*," George III declared with visible delight.
"*Pritz*! *Pritz*!"
…
Starting with the First Lord of the Admiralty and the Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Navy, the name was repeated down the line, eventually resounding from the ironclad itself as officers and sailors joined in a unified cheer:
"*Pritz*! *Pritz*!"
In the celebratory atmosphere, the cannons rang out in salute, and George III issued the order to set sail and conduct the trial firing.
A deep blast from the steam whistle pierced the air as thick smoke billowed from the smokestacks, and the sounds of machinery humming into action echoed faintly.
The colossal ship began moving. As it sailed out of the harbor and fired its forward main cannons at a deserted island in the distance, everyone was stunned.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The ground seemed to tremble, dust billowed into the sky, winds swept violently outward, and waves surged.
Prime Minister Aguesid turned with satisfaction to address the assembled nobles, ministers, and members of Parliament:
"From this moment on, those seven pirates who call themselves generals and the four who dare proclaim themselves kings will tremble in fear, awaiting their inevitable end!"
"Their era has come to a close. No matter if they possess some degree of extraordinary power or if they command ghost ships or cursed vessels—the seas shall belong to ironclads alone!"
At this point, Aguesid's chief secretary spoke up with a pointed question:
"But… couldn't they just build their own ironclads?"
Some of the nobles and MPs nodded thoughtfully, considering this possibility.
Aguesid smiled knowingly, slowly shaking his head.
"Impossible. Absolutely impossible! Building an ironclad of this caliber requires three massive coal and steel syndicates, twenty large-scale steel mills, sixty scientists from the Backlund Artillery Institute and the Pritz Shipbuilding Institute, numerous senior engineers, two royal shipyards, and their network of nearly a hundred component manufacturers. It demands the coordination of an Admiralty, a Shipbuilding Committee, a Cabinet, a visionary king, and a great nation with an annual steel output of twelve million tons!"
"Pirates will never achieve this."
He paused for effect, then raised both arms and declared passionately:
"Ladies and gentlemen, the era of grand ships and mighty cannons has arrived!"