Deep Sea Embers

Even the seasoned sailors, accustomed to the unpredictability of the sea, couldn’t contain their surprise and let out a collective gasp of shock.

Upon the startling occurrence, Tyrian hurriedly made his way onto the deck. His attention was immediately drawn to the flurry of activity towards the rear end of the ship. Amongst his crew, Aiden, his second-in-command, was easily recognizable with his distinctively hairless head. On reaching the edge of the deck, the intruding ship’s proximity to the Sea Mist’s rear was alarmingly evident. It was almost as if the two ships had become one.

“What’s happening here?” Tyrian, both alarmed and curious, hastened to Aiden, clasping his arm tightly, seeking clarity.

Aiden responded in a rush, “I have no idea. This ship just appeared out of the blue. My first impulse was to give the command to shoot at them.” He continued, visibly shaken, “There’s been all this talk about mysterious appearances from the depths, and now this.”

As Tyrian made his way to the stern, he could see the apprehension on the faces of his crew. Many of the sailors had their weapons trained on the unfamiliar ship. Several marines were already in position by the stern’s defensive armaments, their fingers itchy on the triggers. The air was thick with tension.

As Tyrian tried to ascertain more details about the unexpected visitor, the silence was shattered by a blaring sound — it was an announcement system being activated from the other ship. A strong voice echoed out, “Our sincerest apologies. We are the White Oak, a part of the Vanished Fleet. Our debut journey from this spiritual rise nearly caused a collision due to a mishap… Again, we are the White Oak of the Vanished Fleet…”

Hearing the proclamation, Tyrian’s face turned stone-like in disbelief while Aiden, trying to keep pace with his captain, looked like he had seen a ghost. The shock was evident on his bald head which was now dripping with sweat. Stammering, Aiden inquired, “Cap…Captain, did… did I hear right? Who exactly are they claiming to be?”

Lost in thought, Tyrian’s mind drifted back to a cryptic message from his father, the final image of his smile, before their connection was abruptly severed.

But as he processed the present situation, out of his peripheral vision, he caught sight of something that took his breath away. He approached the deck’s edge to take a closer look. While the White Oak itself was clearly visible, its reflection in the water was that of a ghostly ship enveloped in dark shadows and thick mist.

Suddenly, a memory clicked. During an earlier encounter in a mist-laden battle, a mysterious ship had darted across, its origins puzzling everyone. And here it was again, right in front of them.

By now, the crew had also become aware of the eerie reflection in the water. Recollection flashed in Aiden’s eyes, and he exchanged a confused look with Tyrian, “Captain, could it be that they’re related to the old captain’s…”

Remaining outwardly calm, Tyrian replied, the slightest quiver in his voice betraying his emotions, “…My father always did have his own unique strategies. I never imagined someone in our time would brazenly introduce themselves as part of the ‘Vanished Fleet’ on an open channel… where did my father discover these people?”

“Do you think they’re familiar with the legacy of the Sea Mist?” Aiden asked, uncertainty tinging his voice. “How should we approach this? Should we extend a welcoming hand and invite them for a dialogue? We need to discern their intentions…”

As Aiden spoke, Tyrian was momentarily distracted by a sharp pain in his tooth.

“Use our radio to request they send an envoy aboard for talks. And let’s avoid any more of this ‘Vanished Fleet’ broadcast nonsense. Remember, we aren’t the only ship docked here,” Tyrian, the man soon to take on the titles of city-state governor and ‘pirate king,’ responded, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “Additionally, inform the port authorities. They must’ve witnessed the unexpected appearance of the White Oak. We don’t need a panic.”

A sudden vessel emergence from beneath the waves, especially in these times, was bound to be unsettling.

“Understood, Captain,” Aiden said, nodding before making his exit to carry out the instructions.

After some delay, the Sea Mist successfully established a communication link with the mysterious “White Oak”. A quick exchange of introductions and explanations followed, culminating in the agreement that the White Oak would send a delegate over for direct discussions.

Soon after, Tyrian was introduced to the representative from the White Oak — a slender man in his prime, donned in a sailor’s attire, with short, curly chestnut locks and a discerning yet approachable demeanor. He was accompanied by a young priest. The two stepped onto the Sea Mist with confident strides.

“Captain Tyrian, I’ve been looking forward to this,” the middle-aged sailor greeted warmly, a genuine smile gracing his features as he offered a hand to Tyrian. “My name is Gus, the first mate of the White Oak, and beside me is our ship’s spiritual guide, Mr. Jensen.”

The scene was slightly surreal for Tyrian. He hadn’t anticipated the emissary from a ship, with eerie capabilities like navigating through mirrors and uncharted waters, to be so ordinary – a genial smile, a solid, human physique, full of vivacity and sanity.

There were no indications of insanity, no discernible abnormalities, neither physical nor mental. Was this really a representative of the Vanished Fleet? Someone his father held in esteem?

Even with a myriad of questions swirling in his head, Tyrian reached out and firmly shook Gus’s hand.

“I am Tyrian Abnomar, at the helm of the Sea Mist. Though I think our reputations precede us,” he remarked, fixing his piercing gaze on Gus, the perplexing and seemingly ‘normal’ representative of the White Oak. “You claim to hail from the Vanished Fleet?”

With a glint of amusement in his eyes, Gus responded, “Indeed. Recent recruits, in fact.” He openly appraised Tyrian, the so-called ‘pirate king,’ with an evident curiosity.

Despite Tyrian’s somewhat daunting presence, there was an undeniable warmth to Gus. He seemed balanced, unaffected by the bizarre occurrences around him. He didn’t bear the look of someone deluded or corrupted by ancient powers.

Could this man really be related to Captain Duncan? The sanity of his demeanor raised more questions than answers.

Their initial interaction, as new acquaintances of the “Vanished Fleet”, was underlined by mutual skepticism. However, the tension soon gave way to mutual recognition and smiles.

“I recall witnessing your ship during that recent confrontation,” Tyrian began, breaking the brief silence. “The way your ship maneuvered through the thick mist was indeed memorable.”

“We were en route to the Mirror Frost region at that time,” First Mate Gus clarified. “Our mission was paramount, and nothing could impede us.”

“Under whose directive?” Tyrian probed, his eyes subtly drifting to the young priest, Jensen. “And you have a ship’s clergyman? Has the Storm Church expanded its reach so widely now?”

Jensen looked somewhat abashed, a sheepish smile on his face, “Until now, the Goddess hasn’t seen it fit to admonish us.”

With a playful grin, Gus gestured to the ship’s rear, “Doesn’t the Sea Mist boast a small sanctuary of its own?”

Tyrian, slightly caught off guard, let out a bemused chuckle. “It certainly does.”

Choosing not to dwell further, Tyrian refocused on Gus. “Your sudden appearance here… is it indicative of a specific assignment?”

“We’re rendezvousing with our captain,” Gus elucidated in a rush.

“Your captain?”

“Captain Lawrence recently ventured into the Mirror World on a terrestrial mission alongside a small team. After accomplishing his task, he, along with Gatekeeper Agatha of Frost, planned to reenter our realm. We’ve just gotten word that he intends to reunite with the ship,” Gus elaborated. “Yet, something seems amiss on their end. Miss Martha signaled for our emergence…”

“A complication?” Tyrian’s brow knitted in concern. Just as he was about to delve deeper, one of his senior sailors swiftly approached, urgently whispering news into his ear. Tyrian’s demeanor shifted noticeably.

Gus, sensing the tension, inquired, “Is there an issue?”

“Your captain, might he be an elderly figure, adorned in a pristine white garment, aged around the six-decade mark, exuding an almost spectral aura?”

Gus, momentarily flustered, responded, “Ordinarily, he wouldn’t give off a ghostly vibe, but the other descriptions align.”

Tyrian, sighing, spread his hands in a gesture of resignation. “It appears your captain, leading an army of spectral sailors and an animated mummy, is wreaking a bit of chaos throughout our city. He’s been ‘requested’ for a consultation at the Public Security Bureau, mainly due to his inability to extinguish these haunting flames that are inciting widespread panic among the townsfolk.”

Gus blinked in disbelief, stuttering, “I…”

Tyrian reassured, “No cause for alarm. The Bureau recognizes they aren’t adversaries. Eyewitnesses recount tales of their heroic endeavors against monstrous foes and their aid to our city’s defense forces. They won’t face any penal consequences.”

“Ah…”

“And also, Archbishop Agatha is currently en route to lend her support. With her testimony, your captain should be free to depart shortly.”

“Good to know.”

“Going forward, it might be wise to maintain discretion about your affiliation with the ‘Vanished Fleet.’ It’s a… delicate subject.”

Gus nodded in agreement, “Duly noted.”