When he heard his attendant’s words, Alfred immediately felt as if the temperature in the room had plummeted.
An indescribable chill seeped into his body, freezing his blood and marrow.
When the passenger ship had docked at
But now, the truth might be even worse: Utopia might not exist at all!
At that moment, Alfred was exceptionally grateful that he was no longer the aristocratic young master who had left
Under the gaze of his adjutant and his attendant, the major general paced back and forth a few times with a solemn expression, then calmly ordered: «Draft a telegram reporting the Utopia situation to Military Intelligence 9.
«At the same time, tell the local official Beyonders to act immediately, contact the captain, and request the list of everyone who entered Utopia Harbour. If necessary, interview each one to confirm whether there are any problems.»
«Yes, sir.» His adjutant immediately brought his heels together and saluted.
After his adjutant left the study, Alfred said to one of the attendants: «Bring up the typewriter from downstairs. I need to write a detailed report.»
His plan was to first report the key information by telegram without delaying the initial actions, and then present more details in the form of a classified document to provide the high command with a basis for judgment.
…………
On the steam train platform,
He was under thirty, with dark temples and calm brown eyes. His features were nothing memorable, but he had a comfortable aura about him.
A few months ago, he had been an intelligence agent active in the Dixie Bay and Feynapotter region, and had achieved no small amount of merit. Now he was a Sequence 7 Beyonder, assigned to the Internal Operations Department of Military Intelligence 9.
Today, his mission was to deliver a confidential document to Backlund and hand it to the Director of Military Intelligence 9.
After sitting down, Wendel casually bought a newspaper from a newsboy outside the window and leisurely unfolded it to read.
That was the outward appearance. In reality, he began using his Beyonder powers to sketch psychological portraits of the passengers around him, memorising their characteristics and making thorough preparations for any possible incidents.
Woo!
A whistle sounded. The steam train clattered and rumbled forward, the scenery outside the window accelerating past.
A few hours later, Wendel looked out the window with some concern, as dark clouds had gathered in the sky and a storm was imminent.
This meant the steam train would make an unscheduled stop at some station and resume only after the storm passed, or even the next morning, rather than arriving at the scheduled destination.
For Wendel, this would disrupt his plans to some extent, which undoubtedly brought more risks.
But there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t change the weather like the «Sea God» that the new government of the Rorsted Islands had publicised.
The only thing he could do was pray—pray to the
Prayer proved mostly futile. As the sky grew darker, the station ahead signalled with lights for the train to slow down and stop.
Woo!
Another whistle blew. The train slowed and eventually came to a halt at a platform that seemed unfamiliar to everyone.
The next second, a mechanical door opened next to the steam-spewing locomotive, and the conductor appeared in the doorway, shouting across the gap to a station worker on the platform: «What’s going on ahead?»
«Heavy rain! Can’t see a thing!» the station worker, whose temples were already greying, shouted back.
As soon as he finished speaking, a clap of thunder sounded from the sky, making everyone flinch with the premonition of a storm.
«Damn!» the conductor cursed. «Which station is this?»
Due to the unscheduled stop, he wasn’t sure which station this was, since his train didn’t stop at every station along the route.
«Utopia! A small station! You’ll have to figure it out yourselves!» the worker shouted a few times and then ran to the other end of the platform carrying a kerosene lantern. «I need to signal the next train!»
The conductor had no doubt about the worker’s attitude; it was a normal part of the procedure, otherwise there might be a rear-end collision between steam trains.
He could even assume that the other workers at Utopia station had already sent telegrams to other stations as a warning.
Of course, they had probably only just learned from a telegram that the area ahead was hit by heavy rain.
«Utopia…» Wendel repeated the name softly, but found no useful information in his memory.
Of course, he didn’t pay it much mind; there were many obscure steam train stations in the
The conductor looked at the blackening sky, muttered a few words, then used a newly installed loudspeaker to address the passengers: «A storm is approaching. The train will stop at Utopia station until eight o’clock tomorrow morning.»
He estimated the storm would last into the night.
«You can remain on the train, or you can leave, go into town and find a hotel. Tomorrow you only need to show your ticket stub to reboard. Be punctual,» the conductor offered two choices.
Wendel looked around the second-class carriage, considered for a few seconds, picked up his suitcase, and walked off the train.