As the wind and waves subsided, the bearded man walked out of the captain's cabin and looked at the sea, still shaken. The thick fog over the water had vanished, as had the shadow of the enormous ship. The clouds overhead parted, letting moonlight spill across the sea.
The White Graveyard listed slightly, with fragments scattered across the water around it. Just then, the bearded man sensed an invisible ripple spreading outward. He saw ropes extend from the deck and hull, coil around the floating debris, and haul it aboard.
One by one, the fragments scattered across the sea returned to the hull. They were pressed back into their original positions and fitted together again.
The White Graveyard was repairing itself, though judging by the damage to its hull, it would take at least a day or two. Even that was only possible because Anders could control these inanimate objects, making the process so convenient.
Otherwise, it would have taken even longer.
Inside the captain's cabin, the gaunt old man had settled back into his chair. His gaze was somber as his lips moved, his voice audible only to himself. "That devil hasn't appeared in a long time. Why did he suddenly turn up now?"
"He chose this exact moment to attack my ship. Was it a coincidence, or did he have some purpose in mind?"
He was alone in the captain's cabin, so naturally, no one answered his questions.
Sunday, February 13, 4:35 p.m.
The sky was clear and cloudless. Brilliant sunlight shone on the sea, making the water look as though it had been coated in gold leaf.
At the harbor docks of Bayam, the "City of Generosity" and capital of the Rorsted Archipelago, sailing ships lay moored one after another, along with several new vessels that used