Aiden jumped down from the platform.
When he came before his captain and noticed that the captain looked particularly solemn, his expression immediately became serious as well.
"Captain, what happened?"
"An invitation I cannot refuse," Tirian looked around and then sighed, "I may have to leave here tomorrow or the day after tomorrow."
Aiden's eyes widened immediately. "There was news sent to the island? Just now? And... How could there be an invitation that you couldn't refuse in this cold sea?"
Tirian sighed again. "...My father."
Aiden blinked and held his breath for a long time: "... How long have you been gone?"
"I should be back soon, maybe a day or two," Tirian didn't pay attention to the subtle change in the first mate's tone. He was busy with many thoughts and didn't have the energy to say anything else. "A messenger will come to the port to take me to the Lost Homeland. Don't announce this to the public for now. While I'm gone, you should coordinate everything."
Aiden immediately bowed his head and accepted the order: "Yes, Captain."
The first mate paused for two seconds, as if hesitating, and then he couldn't help but look around, approaching and whispering to Tirian: "Is he... nearby?"
Tirian thought for a moment, then patted Aiden on the shoulder and said, "The Lost Homeland is hidden in the mist around us."
More colors appeared on his body, and more solid details appeared on his body surface, which was originally as illusory and undulating as fog.
He knew what his captain was worried about.
The other large group of sailors are the real “original backbone” under the command of “Iron Vice Admiral” Tirian: they are members of the Lost Homeland Fleet.
More and more memories began to surface in the depths of this soul.
However, the majestic gatekeeper just lowered his head and looked at the soul at the door quietly for a moment, then moved slightly to the side: "Please come in, your debt has been cleared."
Suddenly, the figure stopped at the end of the road.
The Sea Fog Fleet is huge, and except for a few special people who are bribed or hired by contract as peripheral members, most of the members of this fleet are "undeads" like himself. In simple terms, these undead sailors are actually divided into two groups.
"Yes," the gatekeeper spoke, a hoarse and low voice coming from above the bandages, "I am only your messenger."
It seemed as if each individual that had been torn and separated from him had now returned to their correct positions one by one.
In the endless battles over the past half century, in the constant clashes with the rebels, the cursed power of death and the Sea Mist itself gradually transformed them into the "undead sailors" they are today and became part of the Sea Mist Fleet.
He raised his head and continued walking forward.
Duncan Abnomar is their "old captain". They witnessed the transformation and fall of the Homelander with their own eyes, and experienced the ups and downs of this century. They followed Tirian to be loyal to Aiden, and watched Aiden turned upside down in the upheaval - these sailors who have been loyal for a century are called the "first batch", and those who have been loyal for half a century are called the "second batch".
Aiden immediately bowed his head: "Yes, Captain."
"... Captain, I stopped breathing for so many years, and today I finally feel 'cold' again. What does that mean?" First mate Wei Xiong's voice became obviously cautious. "Are you sure the old captain...just wants to meet you?"
A tall figure suddenly appeared in front of the door, blocking his way.
Including the details of his own death.
What delayed my journey and made me keep trudging through the wilderness
A century of experience has enabled Duncan to see many things hidden beneath the surface.
He gradually took on a face, a middle-aged woman with white hair.
His tone was somewhat sad: "I am not qualified to step through that door, am I?"
A set of clothes appeared on the human-shaped white mist, which was the sailor's uniform.
Christo looked at this nearly three-meter-tall "giant" with some fear. His memories of his life as a living being came flooding back, allowing him to regain the ability to talk to people: "Are you... the master of death?"
"I don't know, and I don't want to know. It's just that my intuition tells me that this journey shouldn't be dangerous," Tirian whispered, then looked back at the square, looking at the sailors who were still reluctant to disperse and were ready to gather until sunrise, and then turned to look at the first mate, "But other sailors may not think so, you know what I mean."
A large part of them are members of the Post-Aiden Navy. These soldiers who were once loyal to the Frost Queen were originally ordinary people. It was after the Frost Rebellion that these loyalists who still insisted on staying in the team were gradually transformed into what they are now.
"... The dancers in Cold Harbor are indeed passionate and unrestrained—they have passionate personalities and unrestrained aesthetics."
Christo Barberi looked up in surprise and saw that he had walked onto a road without knowing when. On both sides of the road were ancient stone pillars standing silently. At the end of the road, an extremely tall and magnificent gate with ancient and complex patterns stood in the air.
The hollow black shadow looked down at itself and saw that some colors seemed to emerge on its hazy body.
"The Lost Homeland is nearby. Don't let ordinary people get close to this island recently," Tirian shook his head and carefully found an excuse. After all, he was embarrassed to say the reason of "my father was shocked". Then he paused and added, "But your previous words reminded me that if I send them back directly, the mean Martin the Scimitar might criticize these boys... I will write a letter later and you can give it to the head dancer."
At this moment, Tirian's voice came again, interrupting Wei Xiong's thoughts: "Send the dancers back to Cold Harbor early tomorrow morning."
Tirian looked silently at the first mate's shiny head.
The hazy and empty black shadow was thinking, but soon these intermittent thoughts were swallowed up by the larger void, so he could only continue to move forward according to instinct.
Listening to the captain's solemn words, Aiden nodded slowly.
The Lost Hometown and "Captain Duncan" have different meanings in the eyes of the two groups of sailors, and the reactions caused by the same news in front of them are uncontrollable.
He recalled more things.
Dark, lonely, silent.
He is the gatekeeper here.
It seems like I tripped over something? Or was I hit by something invisible
A hollow black shadow trudged through the wilderness.
Therefore, before things are clarified and the situation is guaranteed to be under control, the news that the captain is heading to the Lost Hometown cannot be released - otherwise the island will absolutely become a mess.
There was only a strong urge emerging from the heart of this soul - to pass through this door and to rest opposite this door.
He didn't know how long he had been traveling, nor did he know his name when he set out. He only remembered that he seemed to have set out a long, long time ago, and the superficial impression left at this time told him that he should have reached the end long ago and should have rested in some peaceful place.
"Send them back tomorrow?" Aiden didn't know why the captain suddenly brought this up. "Are you dissatisfied with them?"
The door was open, but the interior was always dim and no details could be seen on the other side of the door.
His footsteps gradually became steady and heavy, and the jagged gravel under his feet became much more rugged without him noticing.
Now even Captain Tirian himself is not sure about the true status of the Lost Homeland and the "Old Captain", let alone whether this status is truly long-lasting and stable.
However, just as he was about to touch the door, Christo stopped.
First came the name, then the moment of death, then the dark youth, the immature and vague memories of childhood, and the fragmented glimpses of the cradle.
"Yeah," Tirian nodded, and then seemed to remember something, "Oh, by the way, when I came here just now, I saw a dancer stop and say something to you. Seeing her bewildered look...
···
What did she tell you?"
He trudged towards the end of the wilderness, and in the darkness, shadows of varying sizes emerged from time to time and merged silently with him.
The endless desolate wilderness stretched out in the darkness. There were no plants or animals in the wilderness. Only rugged rocks and strange ruins that had been weathered and decayed for who knows how many years were collapsed and collapsed, eternally silent in the desolate atmosphere. From time to time, strange phantom lights flashed across the sky and floated in the darkness, often illuminating the wilderness and casting mottled and distorted shadows of growth on the earth.
He could see with his naked eyes that Aiden's muscles were tightening little by little.
Aiden himself and the half-baked old pastor "Will" with a sunken head are both members of the "first batch".
Aiden was a little embarrassed for a moment: "She said that my head shape is very sexy..."
This is a guard who is wrapped in bandages, wearing a bright and complicated robe, a hood on his head, and holding a long staff in his hand.
The middle-aged man in the captain's uniform subconsciously walked forward. There was no one around him, but he seemed to feel that countless souls were also walking on this road and heading towards this door at the same time. There were dead people on the road every minute and every second in the world, but in front of this lonely door of life and death, the souls seemed unable to see each other. But suddenly, his steps stumbled.