On the fifth day after Chris arrived in Omdur, the morning sea mist had yet to fully clear when an excited lookout's voice cracked as he shouted from the harbor watchtower.
"The fleet! It's the First Fleet... they're back!"
Like a stone cast into still water, the news sent ripples spreading swiftly through Omdur's harbor district.
Busy workers on the docks stopped what they were doing, and the distinctive horn call signaling the fleet's return sounded within the naval base.
In the light of the rising sun, the vast silhouettes of the First Fleet slowly pierced the thin mist and appeared on the horizon.
The three battleships still towered like fortresses at sea, their dark hulls gleaming cold and hard in the sunlight. Their tiers of gunports were closed, but that did nothing to diminish their imposing presence.
Escort ships surrounded them, maintaining a remarkably intact formation.
At least to ordinary citizens and most junior and mid-ranking officials, this triumphant fleet looked no different from when it had departed. It was still that reassuring wall of steel upon the sea.
Cheers erupted from the crowd, welcoming the Kingdom's warriors home.
Chris, however, already knew what they had encountered.
He had therefore arranged in advance to clear the naval docks, driving away all unauthorized personnel, then stationed men to direct those coming ashore.
The remaining players aboard the Sea Lion were a particular priority, along with the Half-Elves and the elf and Snake-Man prisoners.
As the fleet slowly drew alongside the deepwater berths reserved for it, a solemn atmosphere utterly at odds with the public's cheers settled over the naval harbor.
The first to disembark were the fleet commander, Vice Admiral Marlow, and his senior officers. There was no joy of triumph on their faces, only the exhaustion and gravity left