Do ratmen dream of the sacred tree of spirits?

Chapter 30 Warships

The sound of the ship's horn still echoed on the river when a dark gray ship sailed in, its bow cutting through the water and creating two white sprays.

Fafner stood on the dock, looking up as the ship drew closer.

It was more magnificent than any other ship in the harbor, its hull covered in dark metal armor that gleamed with a cold, hard sheen in the morning light, with several heavy cannons lined up on each side of the hull.

A flag fluttered at the stern—a golden warhammer crossed over a silver shield, the emblem of the Church of the God of War.

"The patrol warship of the Church of the God of War," Victor said, standing next to Fafnir, "'The Anvil,' permanently stationed in Ryan Harbor, responsible for anti-smuggling and patrol duties."

Kingsley stepped forward and waved to a man in a dark blue military uniform on the deck.

The man waved back at him, turned and said something to the helmsman, and the ship slowly approached the shore. The gangway was lowered, making a dull thud.

"Kingsley, long time no see." The man stepped down the gangway, his voice rough, with an old scar running diagonally from his forehead to his cheekbone, and pointed ears—he was a pure-blooded elf.

"Captain Campbell," Kingsley greeted him, and the two shook hands. "Thank you for letting you leave port so early in the morning."

"Just a routine patrol," Campbell released his grip, his gaze sweeping over the group behind Kingsley, pausing for a moment on Fafnir. "Is this... one of your church's new recruits? Isn't he a bit too young?"

"Assistant priest, clerical work," Kingsley said briefly, "Victor's man."

Campbell looked at Victor and nodded: "Bishop Zaitsev, it's an honor to meet you."

"Captain Campbell, it's an honor to meet you," Victor replied politely.

Campbell's gaze returned to Fafnir, this time lingering for two seconds longer.

Fafnir sensed that the other person was using clairvoyance—not a hostile probing, but more like a quick assessment driven by professional habit. He lowered his head and did not look back.

"A ratman? Not bad talent," Campbell asked, his tone flat.

"Yes," Victor answered for Fafnir.

Campbell didn't say anything more, turned and walked towards the gangway: "Come on up, we'll talk on the way."

The deck was more spacious than Fafnir had imagined.

A dozen or so sailors were busy at their posts, some tidying up the ropes, others wiping the ballistae. When they saw Campbell come aboard, they all stood at attention and saluted.

Campbell led them across the deck and into the cabin.

The corridor inside the cabin was narrow. They stopped in front of a door that read "Command Room". Campbell pushed the door open. The room was small, with a long table, a few chairs, and a nautical chart on the wall.

"Sit." Campbell sat down at one end of the long table, with Kingsley and Victor on either side.

At Mr. Victor's suggestion, Fafnir sat down next to him, and Hans and several other night watchmen followed suit.

"Let's get down to business," Campbell said, opening a folder on the table. "The test results for the smuggled goods you reported are in."

Kingsley leaned forward: "What is it?"

"Second-tier spiritual material, 'Spirit Amber'," Campbell said. "Twenty sealed tubes, each containing enough for a newly promoted Enlightened One to advance to the peak of the second tier."

The room was silent for a few seconds.

"That's not all," Campbell turned to the next page of the document: "The test report also says that the purification process used on this amber is not the technology of the Holy Kingdom."

Mr. Victor frowned. "The Narns Empire?"

"It's highly likely," Campbell said, "that the Narns Empire's spiritual material purification technology has always been half a generation ahead of the Holy Kingdom's, according to the intelligence department."

Kingsley leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers lightly on the table twice: "The raw wool was transported from the Nunns Empire, and the spirit amber is a refining process of the Nunns Empire... The culprit is the Nunns people, there's no doubt about that."

"The question is," Campbell continued, "why they did it, and how they got the stuff in."

The Holy Kingdom has been very strict with the imports from the Nains Empire lately. You've already unpacked and inspected them, but you almost missed it.

"Those spiritual materials were hidden inside the wool, which Lord Kingsley vaguely discovered with his spiritual vision," Hans interjected.

Kingsley waved his hand, signaling Hans to be quiet.

"Yes." Hans immediately fell silent.

Campbell's gaze lingered on Hans's face for a moment, then he said nothing and continued flipping through the documents: "On the last page of the test report, the intelligence department added a note."

He pulled out the page and pushed it in front of Kingsley: "See for yourselves."

Kingsley glanced down at the paper, his brow furrowing even more. He handed it to Victor, who looked at it, remained silent for a few seconds, then folded it up and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Alright," Campbell stood up, his chair scraping against the floor with a dull thud. "That's it. Once we're out this door, it's action, no meetings."

Everyone stood up one by one, with Fafnir following behind Victor.

As he stepped out of the cabin, Victor suddenly slowed his pace, leaned down and whispered in his ear, "The paper you just saw said—'Possibly related to the period when the Sacred Tree sheds its feathers.'"

Fafnir paused for a moment, and before he could think about it, Mr. Victor had already quickened his pace and caught up with Campbell.

The wind on the deck was much stronger than before, and the ship had already left the dock and was accelerating on the river.

The buildings on both banks rushed past in the distance, the river widened, and the water gradually changed from a murky yellowish-green to a deep bluish-gray.

Fafnir gripped the gunwale, his robes billowing in the wind, forcing him to squint to see the water ahead.

"First time on a ship?" a voice came from the side.

Fafner turned his head and saw a young sailor squatting beside a pile of ropes, busy arranging them.

He looked about seventeen or eighteen years old, with a round face, short hair, and blunt ears—he had human ancestry.

"Yes," Fafnir said.

"What's your name?" the young sailor asked.

"Fafner".

"Tobias," he dusted off his hands and stood up, "you're from the Church of the God of Death? Working at such a young age?"

Fafner replied, "Clerical work."

Tobias whistled: "Impressive, I was still picking up coal nuggets at the docks when I was your age."

He glanced toward the bow of the ship and lowered his voice: "This job isn't simple, is it? It involves both the bishop and the captain, and even our captain himself has come out."

Fafner did not respond.

Tobias continued, "I've been on this ship for three years, and this is the first time I've seen Captain Campbell so nervous."

Normally, when he's on anti-smuggling missions, he doesn't even leave the command center, but today he's standing on the bridge. He gestured with his chin toward the bow of the ship.

Fafnir followed his gaze and saw Campbell standing on the bridge, his hands gripping the railing, talking to Kingsley.

The ship jolted violently, and Fafnir lost his footing, staggering before grabbing the gunwale to steady himself.

"We've reached the open sea," Tobias said.