Chapter 272. Repercussions
By the time Charles brought Lily back onto the Narwhale, it was already three in the morning. The little mouse was fast asleep in his pocket.
Seated alone in his cabin, sleep evaded him. Anna and Swann's words echoed in his mind.
Was Swann saying the truth? That many people are going after his life? Will the strongest overlord in the Northern Seas even be dethroned that easily?
It seemed unfathomable to him that Swann, who still aspired to dominate the entire seascape, was already so close to his downfall.
However, the politics in the seascape were changing so rapidly that Charles struggled to keep pace with the shifting tides. It seemed like many things had happened while he was sailing.
He peered through the cabin window at the silent docks of the Albion Isles. Currently, the entire Hope Island fleet had withdrawn from the port and was hovering at sea.
Most of Lily's mice had been sent out to various parts of the island. They were ready to signal the moment Ronker on the other side of the isle displayed any signs of disturbance. Charles would then have ample time to respond appropriately.
And Anna's final words also gnawed at his heart. How did she know about the underwater creature he had encountered?
As he sat alone in his cabin, he wrested with these thoughts until the docks buzzed with life again.
With dark circles under his eyes, Charles gathered the fleet's command and issued a new order as the governor of Hope Island: the entire fleet was to be stationed near the Albion Isles, remain on high alert, and be ready for any change in situation.
He made this decision partly for Anna's sake. Despite her nonchalant attitude about how it was an easy task, Charles wanted to be prepared to assist her in case she ran into any trouble.
And, of course, there was the matter of Swann. If his empire was on the verge of collapse, Charles had no hesitation about giving the man a final push into the abyss.
The memory of being tied up by Swann and held at gunpoint was not something Charles could easily forgive or forget.
Perhaps the crew felt that leader's mood shift, and their expressions grew somber. A subtle but palpable aura of readiness descended upon the Hope Island fleet. All ammunition and weapons were on standby, ready to fire at any moment.
However, the Albion Isles' navy seemed oblivious to Charles' overreactive stance. They seemed to have not noticed their actions and didn't even bother to send even a single reconnaissance boat toward them.
Soon enough, Charles received unexpected guests.
Three ship designers appeared on his ship with rolls of blueprints in their hands and their faces etched with confusion.
"Governor Charles, why do you keep your fleet adrift at sea instead of docking? Isn’t that a waste of fuel?" one of them asked.
Charles studied their faces carefully and recognized them to be the designers had met at the shipyard. He then discreetly reholstered his revolver.
"What brings you here?" Charles inquired.
The lead designer, a man with a rimless glass, seemed taken aback by the question. "Governor, didn't you request a custom-built ship? We've managed to retrieve the relevant blueprints from our archives."
Charles carefully scrutinized their faces before he asked, "Did your governor... give any specific instructions?"
"What instructions? Oh, rest assured, Governor. Designing and building ships is our lifelong passion. Even without Governor Swann's command, we will still uphold our professional integrity and dedicate ourselves to every project commissioned to our shipyard," the lead designer reassured.
Hearing his words, Charles was confused. He had no idea what Swann was trying to do here. Swann had captured him, had made an enemy out of him, and yet, he had allowed the shipyard to continue constructing his ship?
Was that man suffering from some sort of split personality disorder?
"Governor, here are the blueprints," the lead designer said as he handed over the papers in his hands. "Initially, I thought that there was no way to build the kind of ship that could travel underwater as per your description. But after searching through the archives, our records show that a similar, strange vessel was constructed thirty years ago."
The aged blueprints were spread out before Charles to reveal cross-sections of submarines.
Tracing his fingers across the yellowed paper, Charles grabbed his chin as he pondered. I'm building a submarine to find 319 to retrieve that information in my brain. What was that mysterious individual from thirty years ago trying to search for in the depths of the sea?
Seeing Charles lost in thoughts and without making any remarks, the designers exchanged anxious glances. Eventually, the bespectacled designer broke the silence. "The design from thirty years ago is quite outdated. We can improvise on the foundation and create a new vessel with enhanced power and a more formidable weapons system."
At this point, Charles already couldn't be bothered to waste time on figuring out Swann's intentions. The opportunity to get a submarine was right before him; he couldn't pass up the chance.
"How long will it take to construct a new one?" Charles asked.
"We already have the blueprints. If it's just a small ship, we have to make the parts first and then assemble them together; that will take about four months. Assembling a surface vessel is much faster, two months at most. "
"What is the fastest time you can manage? The payment is not a problem," Charles remarked.
"If we gather the hands of the other shipyards, we would be able to proceed much faster; it would still take at least six months, though, for a ship of your size. But that would mean shutting down production for all other orders commissioned to the Albion Isles. That's a move that the Navy will not approve, no matter how much money the order will bring in. The shipyards are already fully booked for the second half of the year."
Charles pondered for a moment before he raised his head and instructed, "Commence work first. I'll arrange the downpayment. Also, I'll discuss with your governor on how many shipyards can be reassigned to help accelerate the process."
Charles watched as the three designers left the room, his metal fingers drumming rhythmically against the table top as he weighed his options. He turned to Lily, "Lily, any news from your friends?"
"Nope. Nothing unusual on the island. But they said the atmosphere feels odd," Lily replied.
"Send out all the mice; I need eyes and ears all over the island," Charles ordered,"
"Aye!"
Charles' eyes narrowed into slits. It seemed like an entertaining show would soon be unveiled on the Albion Isles. Perhaps at that time, he could intervene and get what he wanted.
Half a year? I can't wait for that long. If I play a part in this stage play, maybe I might be able to assist Anna as well. That's killing two birds with one stone.
As time ticked by, the Albion Isles remained seemingly peaceful without any signs of anomalies. However, things that were meant to happen would certainly happen.
Exactly half a month after Charles' arrival on the island, a thick plume of black smoke began to rise ominously from the center of the island.
Before anyone could react, the column of smoke shrank and expanded and exploded into a dark orange mushroom cloud right in the central district.
A deafening roar and powerful shockwaves ravaged the island.
The explosion was so loud that Charles could feel the thundering noise even from his ship. He watched the unfolding situation through his binoculars.
He smiled lightly and muttered to himself, "The show is about to start..."
Soon after the initial explosion, a cacophony of gunshots, cannons and chaos followed. The billowing black smoke from the factories had ceased, but plumes were rising from the residential areas of the island.
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