Qian's Journey

The mist parted over the sea, gradually revealing a jagged promontory jutting above the water ahead. A beam of light pierced the thin fog and shone onto the side of the Bisca. The sailors on deck recognized it as a navigation light and hurriedly raised the sails. The first mate called out orders, telling the helmsman to turn while waiting for the pilot boat to draw near. Captain Dalin stood behind the third mast in a drenched windbreaker, pipe clenched between his teeth. He narrowed his eyes for a look, then turned and gave a signal to a sailor beside him. The sailor hurried down the deck and made straight for the third level of cabins.

Greywind Port was just ahead.

After Viscount Bernie received the news, he immediately informed Babain and Boimer. In fact, the two had already deduced it from the sailors rushing back and forth through the passageways. At that moment, fist-sized rats were scurrying through the cabin corridors, but no one had the leisure to bother with these irritating stowaways of the voyage. Several cabin doors stood open, and the wind and waves brought in from the deck poured down the stairs like waterfalls. The reek of the sea filled the air, and the cabins below were in utter chaos.

Viscount Bernie led Babain and Boimer against the sailors rushing outside. The three said nothing, their faces solemn, as though carved from the same mold. They continued all the way to an iron-chain-locked wooden door at the very bottom of the cabins. Viscount Bernie turned back and exchanged a glance with his two Imperial colleagues. He took a key from his coat. The keys rattled against the iron ring as he seized the lock and snapped it open. Once freed, the chain slid into the pooled