Chapter 412 - 395: The Trojan Fish

Chapter 412: Chapter 395: The Trojan Fish

The Governor’s Mansion in Black Stone Port, on the third-floor terrace.

Baron Robelio held a velvet cloth, meticulously polishing a golden goblet inlaid with a Ruby. The sunlight struck the side of the cup, refracting into a mesmerizing halo.

"My lord, the news from the front isn’t good."

His adjutant stood behind him, clutching a sweat-soaked sheet of parchment. His voice trembled slightly.

"Marquis Hector’s main fleet seems to have run into trouble at sea... Should we heighten our defenses?"

Robelio paused and breathed a wisp of warm air onto the goblet before continuing to polish it.

"Trouble? What trouble could there be?"

He glanced at his adjutant, the corner of his mouth twitching into a sneer.

"The Marquis left for the provincial capital just the day before yesterday to deal with some supply shortages and to coordinate the next phase of the ’Total Blockade’ plan. The only reason his lordship felt safe returning inland and leaving Black Stone Port to me is because this is an absolutely secure rear base. Are you prepared to take responsibility if we make a big fuss over a few sea rats and disrupt his lordship’s political arrangements in the capital?"

He raised the goblet, peering at the sun through its base.

"Matters at sea are the navy’s concern. This is Black Stone Port. We’re on land. You think those pirates can sail their ships ashore? And don’t forget, we have that Magic Tower looming over us. As long as that big lightbulb is on, not even a fly can get in."

"But..."

"No buts. Go on, take this to the wine cellar to be chilled. This damn weather is getting hotter and hotter. I want to use it tonight for that bottle of aged Bordeaux."

Robelio handed the goblet over, then turned and leaned on the railing, looking down at the bustling port below.

Cranes were lifting crate after crate of supplies, the chants of dockworkers rising and falling in rhythm, while merchant ships in the distance queued up to enter the harbor. This was a city flowing with Gold Coins, and it was his personal cash cow.

As long as the Black Stone Mountain Range stood, as long as the Magic Tower remained, this place was an absolutely secure rear base.

That was an ironclad rule.

That was common sense.

Just then, a strange sound drilled into his ears.

It was a sharp, shrill shriek, like someone frantically scraping their nails across glass, or perhaps a banshee screaming from the depths of hell. The sound grew from a distant point, piercingly conspicuous above the clamor of the port.

Robelio frowned.

"What’s that noise? Did a factory boiler explode?"

He looked up at the sky.

There was no black smoke from an exploding boiler.

Only clouds.

And the black dots emerging from them.

The black dots rapidly grew larger in his vision, resolving into some kind of winged creatures. They folded their wings, diving straight for the docks like black wedges falling from the sky.

’Birds?’

’Whose birds fly that fast?’

Robelio narrowed his eyes, trying to get a better look.

Then he saw something dangling beneath the black dots.

A black iron canister.

’That’s...’

BOOM—!!!

His train of thought was shattered.

The ground lurched violently.

Robelio felt as if someone had slammed a hammer into the soles of his feet. He was thrown backward, landing hard on the cold marble floor.

A heatwave followed.

A scorching blast of air, thick with the stench of sulfur and burning, violently swept onto the terrace, tearing the elegant parasol from its base and flinging it into the air.

"What’s happening?!"

Robelio scrambled to his feet and rushed to the railing.

His pupils contracted instantly.

The once bustling and orderly Pier One had become a massive, fiery pit.

The alchemical crane, worth three thousand Golden Sun, was now just a twisted, mangled heap of scrap metal, like a wire toy crumpled by a mischievous child. Mountains of cargo were ablaze, with black-and-red flames leaping dozens of meters into the air, licking at the sky.

In the billowing smoke, countless workers screamed and ran, like ants in a nest scalded with boiling water.

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!!!"

The shrill cry of the alarm finally blared out, but it sounded feeble and pale against the continuous roar of explosions.

In the sky, the strange birds continued to dive.

Each dive was accompanied by that same scalp-numbing shriek.

Each time they pulled up, a blossoming flower of death was left on the ground below.

The "bathwater" bombs fell one after another.

The roof of Warehouse Two was blown off.

An armed merchant ship docked at its berth took a direct hit to the deck. Splinters flew everywhere as its broken mast crashed into a nearby tavern.

"What... What the hell are those things?!"

Robelio’s fingers, gripping the railing, trembled uncontrollably from the shock.

"The Mages! Where the hell are the Mages?!"

Robelio spun around and roared at his stunned adjutant, spraying spittle all over the man’s face.

"The shield! Get that damned Magic Tower to raise the shield! Am I paying them to stand around and watch the show?!"

"M-My lord... The chief Mage and the elites went to support the front line. Right now, the only ones in the tower are..."

"I don’t care if it’s apprentices or janitors in there! Tell them to get that damned barrier up! Now! Immediately!"

Robelio kicked his adjutant in the shin.

The adjutant cried out in pain and scrambled toward the communications room.

In the center of the port, a faint light finally began to glow at the top of the tall, white Magic Tower.

A few Middle Tier Mages who had been left behind were frantically working at the control console with a group of apprentices. Some were rummaging through Talisman Documents, others were trying to charge the Magic Pool, and still others were loudly arguing over the syllables of a spell.