564 Avalon, I’m Back (2/2)
In the end, the ocean was almost covered by flames. Using demon carcasses as firewood, the flames danced in the hymn, outlining the scene of the purgatory of trial in the mortal world.
The battle lasted for the whole night.
…
It was a short night, but it felt like forever.
When the last giant monster of the deep sea was crushed by a cannonball from the Petitioner, and the dark rivers that the demons had gathered into were burned completely by the flames, the war finally came to an end, for the time being.
Everyone stood where they were, blank looks on their faces, and stared at the sea that was covered in blood and ashes. It was as if they had just awakened from a nightmare and didn't know where they were.
”It has ended?”
”No more demons?”
”We... have won?”
”Victory!!!”
”Long live! Long live Anglo!!!”
The ecstasy of surviving a disaster and the glory of victory after a fierce battle blended together and became an impulsive feeling to tear up in joy. Be it on the decks, in the sky, or in the bridges of the ships, everyone cheered and hugged each other, bursting into tears, screaming and roaring.
Amid the hustle and bustle, in the commander's seat, Ye Qingxuan took off his hat and put it on the table. He stretched tiredly and felt his whole body finally relaxing. Gazing at the city outside the porthole that re-lighted, I couldn't help but smile.
”Return to the harbor.” He murmured softly, ”Let's go home.”
Avalon, I'm back.
…
After traversing through a long and narrow waterway, the sluice of the port which was covered in scratches slowly opened. The machinery rotated, making a sharp scraping noise.
In the turbulent waters, the Royal Navy, with scars all over, finally entered the harbor. They were met with dazzling lights. The crowds were surging and cheering wildly. No matter how hard the guards outside the port tried to block them, it was impossible to extinguish the enthusiasm and ecstasy.
”Long live Avalon!”
”Long live Avalon!”
”Long live Avalon!”
The cheers were like a tsunami. They no longer had to worry about being left behind in the sudden Great Retreat, or being separated from their family members, having to leave their homeland and embark on a long dark journey. The sudden great victory was a shot in the arm to the city that had almost suffocated under the lengthy torture, and the suffering people were full of anticipation for the future. The pitch black warship that had shown up out of the blue brought them hope.
The purifying musicians who opened up land in the World of Dark during the Pioneering Era a century ago had returned again, holding their flaming banners high. They came to the city at its darkest and most vulnerable moment, cast the demons into the flames and illuminated the dim, suffocating world once more.
At the foremost of the crowd, the nobles who had rushed to the scene from various agencies, or even the fleet of evacuation, were not necessarily feeling light-hearted.
The upper-class men, who got to know about the evacuation plan half a day ahead of the commoners, had carried out innumerable secret transactions in the very short period of time to obtain priority in the evacuation and fight for the last remaining resources. Some even ran through a fortune.
The authorities let it go unchecked, as the exhausted Lancelot was too tired to care anymore, and even went so far as to acquiesce in their setting-up of the government in exile.
The evacuation plan ended up being aborted, and the government in exile was nowhere to be seen of course.
Some people were slower in taking action, and had been wringing their hands in frustration or even despair, but felt relieved after the victory, smiling cheerfully and rejoicing at their fate. As for those were quick-handed, they had already boarded the boats a long time ago…
The boats were still here, but they meant nothing now. Although the fate of the city was still uncertain in the coming days, who could guarantee that there would be another suitable timing for evacuation?
In the sudden Great Retreat this time, the nobility and senior officials occupied as much as two-thirds of the fleet. Few of the remaining one-third of tickets fell into the hands of commoners but were priced astronomically, as the prices were driven up wildly due to high demand.
The grassroots were extremely disappointed with them.
The consultants didn't even need to investigate further before they sighed and assured their employers that their credibility and image were presently at a new low, and that they were completely stuck in the Tacitus trap. Whatever they did would be seen as evil deeds.
If another evacuation was to be conducted in the future, then what they would face before the retreat would be an angry riot. At that time, it would be hard to say to whom the spots on the ships would belong to.
Therefore, regarding this savior who had shown up out of the blue, quite a number of people only felt a strong sense of bitterness. They had zero gratitude for him, and even felt a tinge of hatred, despite it being well hidden.
In the complicated looks and hushed conversations of the nobles, the crowd surged. Lead by a Grand Knight and escorted by the garrison, two black carriages drove to the port. One bore the emblem of the Church and was from Westminster Abbey. The door opened, and with the help of the attendants, Mephistopheles, the archbishop who had been blind for many years, got off. The other was even more low-key and bore no emblem.
A pale middle-aged man got out from the carriage. He wore a black formal-looking dress suit, but a sharp-eyed person could see the wrinkles on the corner of his blazer, which clearly had not been changed for many days.
The dress suit was thicker than ordinary. It had thick fur sewn into it and was fairly warm, but his face showed no ruddiness. Instead, he covered his mouth with a handkerchief and coughed so hard that it felt like his heart and lungs would be torn.
A number of years ago, he was badly hurt by an assassin when he was protecting the Empress, and his wound never healed properly. His lung disease had already been determined as incurable.
”Marquis Lancelot...” The soft discussion in the crowd paused. Everyone looked at the figure standing in front and couldn't help but stop talking.
At this moment, the only remaining backbone of Avalon, the actual ruler of the Kingdom of Anglo, the leader of the Privy Council—Lancelot, showed up here alone, without even bringing any attendants along.
He only nodded at Archbishop Mephistopheles, but said nothing and cast his gaze on the black warship entering the port slowly.
He didn't speak a word.