As night fell, Warrick sat motionless in his room as he tried to calm his mind through meditation. He had always been able to clear his mind with ease. But tonight, no matter how hard he tried, focus eluded him. A restless unease settled over him and refused to let him relax.
Nearly two hours passed before Mulder’s scouts finally returned. This time, they brought good news.
The smuggling route they had scouted was completely safe, with no signs of an ambush. The West Lucozia army had yet to discover this potential escape route.
Once everything was confirmed, Mulder let out a breath of relief. Warrick, too, finally felt the weight lift from his chest.
“Since the route is safe, we should set out immediately to avoid any unexpected complications.” Warrick said.
He had no intention of waiting any longer. He was a wanted man, and every moment in West Lucozia increased his chances of capture.
There was no telling when the army might surround him. Only by escaping to Thaloria would he be truly safe.
“Pack up. We’re leaving now.” Mulder wasted no time.
After a quick disguise, the group set out.
The countryside was quiet, and their plain van blended in as it rumbled down the road. After about an hour, they reached a fork where the road ended.
“There’s a narrow path ahead. The van can’t go any further we’ll have to walk from here.”
Mulder stepped out first, and Warrick followed in silence. They moved swiftly along the narrow path and reached the smuggling dock in less than half an hour.
It was a small dock scattered with over a dozen fishing boats. At first glance, it looked like nothing more than a temporary mooring spot for local fishermen.
By now, most of them had already gone home. Out on the water, the boats drifted in the dark-except for one, where a dim light still flickered. A man dressed like a fisherman lay on the deck with a straw hat pulled low over his face.
“Is this the smuggling route you were talking about?” Warrick frowned the moment he saw the fishing boats ahead. ” You’ve got to be joking.”
These were private fishing boats, and none were longer than 25 feet. They might be fine for a short trip in calm waters, but even a small storm could capsize them.
And their journey would take several days at sea. If they ran into rough weather, a boat this size wouldn’t stand a chance-it would be torn apart by the waves.
Even being halfway to becoming an ultimate grandmaster wouldn’t save Warrick if he got thrown into the sea. He couldn’t figure out whether Mulder was a fool or if he had no regard for his own life.
“Calm down, Sir Prescott.” Mulder said evenly, “Of course, I know these fishing boats can’t handle an open-sea voyage.
Sailing to Thaloria on them would be suicide.”
“So, what’s your plan?” Warrick’s frown deepened.
“I had everything planned out,” Mulder explained. “These fishing boats are just for the first leg of the trip. About 30 miles out, the Hall of Gods has a luxury ship waiting -that’s the real vessel we’ll be traveling on. So there’s no need to worry about safety.”
“Oh, so that’s how it is. You nearly had me thinking you’d lost your mind.”
Warrick let out a breath of relief, chiding himself of course, Mulder wasn’t the type to make such an amateur mistake.
“If the situation weren’t so tense, I wouldn’t have pulled a stunt like this,” Mulder said with a faint smile.
A fishing boat’s small size and ordinary appearance made it the perfect cover. A larger vessel would only attract attention and invite trouble. To be safe, he had the main ship anchor farther out.
“Sir Prescott, I just checked the area, and there’s no ambush. It’s all clear. Let’s move.”
Mulder glanced around cautiously. After confirming there was no danger, he finally led Warrick forward. Under the cover of night, the group moved cautiously toward a dimly lit fishing boat.
“Hey, everyone’s here. We can set sail now, “Mulder said as he leaped onto the bow.
The fisherman lying on the deck, legs crossed, didn’t react. He looked as though he hadn’t heard a thing.
“Hey! Wake up!” Mulder kicked the man’s boot impatiently.
“Oh! You’re finally here. Took you long enough.”
The fisherman seemed to have just woken from a deep sleep. He stretched lazily, let out a long yawn, and slowly sat up.
“We already paid you, so cut the chatter and set sail,” Mulder urged.
“Set sail? Where to?” The fisherman spoke with a sluggish drawl.
“Where else? Out to sea, obviously.”
Mulder frowned.
“Sorry, but this boat isn’t going anywhere past the shore,” the fisherman said.
He slowly removed his straw hat, revealing a strikingly young, handsome face.
Grinning, he said, “But I’d be more than happy to ferry you gentlemen straight to the underworld. Are you interested?”
