Chapter 228. Cavendish
King Caesar raised his right hand, and immediately, a servant approached Charles with a tray. A pair of black high boots etched with enigmatic inscriptions was on the tray.
"These will allow you to tread anywhere you wish. I believe they will be of use to you, Captain Charles," King Caesar explained.
"A relic? What are the side effects?" Charles asked.
"It's not exactly a relic. Consider them a divine gift," King Caesar replied.
King Caesar smiled in satisfaction when Charles accepted the boots.
"Captain Charles, you have earned the respect of the Haikor Tribe. From this moment on, let's consider ourselves friends."
Charles nodded in agreement and left. Shortly after his departure, King Caesar rose to his feet and calmly turned his gaze upward. A monstrous, hideous creature was clinging upside down from the ceiling—it was the Apostle from before.
The creature flipped mid-air and landed heavily on the long table with a loud thud and emitted a rapid gurgling sound.
Aguino stepped forward and offered a deferential bow to the Apostle.
"He bears the mark of the God Fhtagn, but when I deliberately spoke ill of the Fhtagnist faith, Charles displayed no trace of anger. He's unlikely to be a follower of Fhtagn."
Flicking its long tail, the creature leaped from the table and circled the spot where Charles had been seated. It seemed to be deep in thought for a few moments before it made the same gurgling sound again.
"Understood. As per your request, Esteemed Apostle, I'll gather as much information about him as possible for you to present to our god."
Meanwhile, King Caesar stood immobile and seemingly oblivious to the exchange between Aguino and the Apostle.
***
Margaret stood within the pilot house of the colossal Royal Titan.
However, her situation was far from ideal.
A thunderous boom rang out and Margaret clung desperately to her chair bolted to the floor. She tried to stand up, but her legs were trembling uncontrollably; she had clearly underestimated the brutal reality of naval warfare.
She glanced out the window at another massive ship. The sound had come from there. She wasn't certain if the turbine chamber was hit, but the once invincible steel behemoth was now a massive fireball.
The flames dyed the inky dark waters a fiery red, with wisps of white vapor beginning to rise from the water's surface.
Tears streamed down Margaret's face; she couldn't even understand why she was crying. She had never imagined that just observing a battle would be this overwhelming.
A large hand reached under her armpit and pulled her up to her feet.
"Don't cry. Tears are useless on the battlefield. You made this choice. Watch and learn how I command the fleet. Real combat is the best learning experience."
Margaret bit down on her lower lip with a steeled resolve. She turned to look at her brother, Jack, and nodded vigorously.
Bringing herself together, she watched Jack swiftly command the battle through telegraph.
I'm not a burden! I can do this!
"Commander! Three enemy ships oncoming from three o'clock! They’re fast!" a frantic voice came through the communication port.
They were three steamships bearing the flag of the Albion Isles. Their slender bodies allowed them to cut swiftly through the water toward the Whereto's navy fleet.
Cannon fire from the Royal Titans roared continuously, efficiently taking down the enemy to one remaining ship. However, the lone ship continued to approach with no fear.
While a large ship had its advantages, it also had its drawbacks—once smaller ships got close enough, the giant cannons would be rendered useless.
The smaller ship soon inched close enough, and grappling hooks were flung upward. The enemy began scaling the ropes. They seemed to be well aware that this particular vessel was the main command, the brain of the Whereto's naval force. And they aimed to take down the leader.
"Battle team, prepare to engage!" Jack bellowed into a nearby pipe.
Black-uniformed soldiers streamed out from the cabins and rushed toward the invaders climbing the ship's sides. A brutal melee ensued as soon as they clashed on deck.
Bullets were the main weapons. As soon as various relics were brandished, the violence escalated exponentially. Soon, a crimson red dyed the deck.
Margaret tried her best to block out the chaos and commotion outside. She diverted her full attention to her brother's command strategy. But suddenly, she saw Jack turn toward her with a serious expression.
"You said you wanted to join the fight, right? Now's your chance."
Margaret observed the pandemonium outside and nodded with a newfound resolve.
"Great," Jack said and proceeded to slice his arm open to remove a peanut-sized black stone. He then cut open Margaret's skin and inserted the stone into her.
Instantly, Margaret felt lighter, and her skin tingled with an unfamiliar tension.
"There aren't many of them outside; draw some blood first."
Pushing a dagger into Margaret's hand, Jack grabbed her by the wrist and hurled her through the glass window toward the fray.
Margaret's shrieks pierced the air as she crashed through the glass and fell from a towering height of four to five stories onto the deck.
She staggered to her feet, her vision slightly hazy. Before she could even comprehend her situation, an invader next to her fired at her at point-blank range.
It hurts...so much... Margaret thought as she lifted a hand to touch her wound. To her surprise, there was no blood, and her eyes widened in disbelief. It seemed like she had gained the same near-inhuman defensive strength her father and brother had.
Shots were fired, and bullets whizzed past again. Margaret instinctively curled up in fear. Unfortunately, the enemy showed no mercy to her apparent vulnerability, and a cowering young girl was an easy target.
Swoosh!
A smoking grenade was lobbed right toward her pristine high heels.
Boom!
Flames engulfed Margaret, and she was blasted away by the explosion.
Tears found their way down her cheeks once more. But this time, she stood up despite the tears streaming down her face. Covered in soot, she gripped her dagger with all the strength she could muster. With a hysterical cry, she charged into the chaos of the battlefield.
An invader attempted to block her path. However, Margaret lifted the dagger and thrust it into the attacker's back with all her might.
A sickening noise echoed.
The man's spine had shattered under Margaret's immense force.
"AHHHHHH!!" Margaret let out a battle cry as she lunged at her second target.
The fight soon ended.
A disoriented Margaret pushed the pilot house's door open and stumbled into the room. The moment she stepped into her comfort zone, she collapsed to the ground and started retching.
The violent scenes of her recent actions flashed through her mind; the blood and gore felt like they would haunt her for quite a while, even if she wanted to forget them.
Jack helped her up and seated her on a nearby stool.
"Not bad, you took out six," Jack commended.
Margaret's lips quivered. She burst into tears and clung to her brother, seeking comfort and consolation.
Seeing her crying so miserably, Jack patted her back affectionately. "How about I get someone to send you back to the island? Honestly, this place might not be for women."
Margaret immediately released her grip on Jack and shook her head vigorously. "No! I am a Cavendish! I won't run away!"
Jack smiled at that and patted her head. "That's my sister. No Cavendish is a coward!"
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