Chapter 397: Arrival
Charles returned Bandages' old skin and said, "Since you've already become a mail carrier, are you still going to return to the Narwhale?"
"I want to return, but Mother doesn't want me to come back I'll think about it some more," Bandages replied.
Charles felt a bit disappointed by Bandages' reply, but he revealed a placid smile and said, "Do as you wish. I will respect your decision. The Narwhale has seen a few batches of crew members. Some chose to retire, while some lost their lives at sea; every position had seen a new person.
"I guess it's finally your turn nowyour turn to retire as the First Mate of the Narwhale."
Bandages smiled stiffly and muttered, "I'll deliver these letters, then"
"Telegraphs have already become widespread, so why are people still using letters to communicate with each other?" Charles asked.
"Telegrams are charged by word count, so it's expensive," Bandages replied. Then, he pedaled toward the central district. The bags full of letters attached to his seat fluttered amidst the breeze.
Charles nodded in realization just then. It's true. You can write as many words in a letter as you want, and the postage is still going to be much cheaper than the fees associated with using a telegram machine.
Bandages soon vanished from Charles' sight, prompting him to turn toward the old painter next to him. However, the old painter had disappeared and was on all fours, vomiting onto the seat right near the dock's edge.
"Are you okay, sir?" Charles asked, walking up to the old painter. He wanted to help the old painter up, but the latter rushed up and staggered backward in fear.
The conversation between the young man and the mail carrier had scared the old painter out of his wits. He wanted nothing to do with people capable of peeling off their own skins and tanning them to keep.
The old painter initially thought that the young man was just an ordinary painter like himself, but the old painter wasn't so sure anymore. However, the young man definitely had an unusual identity.
"You should visit the academy and ask the staff there if they're looking for professors," Charles said sincerely. He truly didn't want to see such a skilled painter wandering around like a vagrant.
Just then, the old painter stood up straight and threatened in a trembling voice, "I-I'm telling youd-don't you dare try to trick me! Hope Island's laws are very strict, and if the police catch you, they'll definitely throw you in jail!"
The old painter was clearly not going to listen to Charles' words, so Charles simply decided to lay all of his cards on the table, saying, "I'll be direct with you, then. I'm the Governor of Hope Island."
"Oh, okay, okay. If you are, then you are. Can I leave now?" the old painter nodded repeatedly, pretending that he believed Charles' words.
Charles revealed a look of hopelessness and asked, "What do I have to do for you to believe me?"
"I heard that the Governor of Hope Island has a mischief of mice. Can you summon a mischief of mice for me?" the old painter asked, sounding hesitant.
Charles immediately put two fingers in his mouth and whistled sharply. Moments later, a large mischief of mice emerged from the dark corners of the dock area and surrounded Charles.
At the incredible sight, the old painter finally believed that Charles was the Governor of Hope Island. However, the old painter glared at Charles with trembling eyes rather than agree with Charles' earlier proposal.
"Governor, I have a burning question I would like to ask you. Can you enlighten me?" the old painter asked.
Charles waved his hand, dismissing the mischief of mice, before saying, "Ask away."
"Many people have said that the Fhtagn Covenant caused the Albion Isles' destruction, but I don't believe that at all, so I want to ask whether any of the governors were involved in Albion Isles' destruction."
"Yes, I was involved."
"Why?!" the old painter exclaimed. Agony marred his face instantly as he glared at Charles and roared, "Why did you destroy the island?! My students and millions of people are all gone! They're all gone, and I've lost my home, too!"
"Have you ever thought about how many lives Swann had ended up reaping to occupy other islands? Among those who perished beneath Swann's rampage, how many do you think were children? How many do you think were other people's students?" Charles asked calmly.
The old painter stood frozen, speechless and dumbfounded.
"I have no issues with a governor conquering an island, as it is only natural for governors to conquer other islands, but Swann had done more than just that. He was the first ever individual in the history of the Subterranean Sea to have sacrificed an entire island to a Divinity. He's a traitor to mankind!"
The old painter's eyes gleamed in shock. "Are you saying that Governor Swann was the sole culprit behind the Albion Isles' destruction?"
"Governors conquer islands for the sake of the resources on those islands. A barren island is useless to us governors, so there's absolutely no way that any of us is the culprit behind it," Charles explained.
Technically, Charles wasn't "involved," as he only visited the Albion Isles to commission a submarine. It would be more accurate to say that Charles had ended up getting involved.
The old painter stared blankly at the ground with eyes full of disbelief. It turned out that neither the Fhtagn Covenant nor a conspiracy of the governors had destroyed the Albion Isles. The culprit was the Governor of the Albion Isles himself. The old painter found it a bit too difficult to accept such a harsh reality.
"You can leave if you still want to. Your ship has yet to leave, and you've already bought a ticket. However, if you want children to know that the world doesn't just revolve around machinery and steam, then our academy's doors are always open," Charles said while folding up his drawing board.
Charles was about to leave with his drawing board when he heard loud noises from the docks behind him. Charles turned around, and his jaw fell to the ground immediately afterward in shock.
The dome overhead had been blotted out by the massive yellow gas bags of the Divine Light Order's colossal airships. Eight massive, golden ships were also sailing beneath the airships.
If the Pope hadn't told Charles that he would mobilize such a massive fleet in advance, Charles would have thought that the Pope was about to invade and conquer Hope Island.
"I still have many things to handle, so you should decide for yourself," Charles said to the old painter before jumping onto the water and running toward the magnificent fleet in the distance.
***
Chief James alighted from the car door after it was opened for him by the driver. A hard day's work had just ended, but despite the exhaustion, Chief James still couldn't help but smile upon pushing the door open and seeing his wife Mosicca.
"I saw so many police officers earlier at the docks, so I'm sure you must be exhausted today," Mosicca said upon approaching her husband. The pair then chatted as they walked toward a lavishly decorated room.
The visibly exhausted James shook his head and replied, "I'm fine. It was a bit chaotic at first, but everything ended up being okay. The airships and ships of the Divine Light Order have left full of supplies."
"They're allies of the Governor, right?" Why are you so wary of them, then?" Mosicca asked.
"Their fleet is so massive, so it's better to err on the side of caution. Honestly, if it hadn't been for the Governor's order, I wouldn't have allowed such a massive fleet to approach Hope Island," James replied.
The couple soon reached the living room while chatting, and Mosicca thoughtfully took off James' coat for him.
"You haven't eaten, have you? I cooked some food for you. Tell me if you need seconds," Mosicca said.
James didn't stand on ceremony and ate with relish using a knife and a fork. He had been too busy to eat today, so he was starving.
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