Checkmate

The boundless sea merged into a single line with the sky as a salty, briny sea breeze blew across the shore.

A fleet composed of three multi-masted sailing vessels was docked at the wharf, their masts bristling like spears and their decks gleaming in the dazzling sunlight. Sailors scrambled up and down the rigging, performing final pre-voyage inspections amid a cacophony of shouting that soared straight into the clouds.

Porters shouldered large casks of fresh water and supplies, staggering aboard the cargo ships. With the cargo hatches standing wide open, the purser was loudly taking inventory of the goods in the hold. They were all ready-made garments and metal everyday necessities—the two most famous products of Rhine City, popular throughout Lande and even across half of Middle Earth.

“Board the ship.”

“Pre-voyage inspection.”

“Stoke the coal, start the steam engines.”

“Cast off lines.”

Billows of black smoke poured from the sterns as the propellers churned up pale, frothing spray. The gangplanks were drawn in, and sailors perched atop the masts signaled back and forth with flags as the three great vessels slowly parted from the long pier, gently swaying with the rising waves.

“Prepare to dep—”

A long horn blast interrupted the shout as a line of carriages raced forward from the distance, sending pedestrians on the docks scattering in alarm. At the same time, seven or eight small boats swarmed in from all sides, blocking the fleet’s path right before the massive ships could clear the pier and enter the main channel.

“Halt your vessels and submit to inspection!”

Signal flags fluttered from the small boats, forcing the large ships to stop, and gangplanks were extended once more. Several carriages came to a screeching halt beside the long pier, and a detachment of local lord’s naval soldiers stormed the flagship's deck, followed by several mysterious black-robed priests.

Naturally, it was Lynch and Knight Rick leading the church knights in hot pursuit. By mobilizing the port garrison through official channels, they had managed to corner the fleet at the eleventh hour.

Had the ships escaped the harbor, pursuing them would have been impossible. Only upon seeing all three vessels brought to a halt did Lynch, draped in a Black Night priestly robe, finally breathe a sigh of relief.

“What is the meaning of this? What is going on?”

A captain in a bright red coat hurried over, looking surprised when he saw the people on deck. But he quickly broke into a broad smile and strode forward to greet the leading naval officer, eagerly taking the officer's hand in a tight grip. Like magic, three Friedman gold coins slid smoothly into the officer's palm.

“Your vessel is suspected of carrying contraband. Shut down your steam engines immediately and submit to inspection.”

With a stern face, the officer pushed the captain's hand away and cast a meaningful glance at the priests behind him.

“Sir, what is this about? We are a fully registered, legitimate merchant vessel belonging to the Commercial Daily merchant guild! We are loyal subjects of the kingdom and would never transport contraband,” the captain protested with a woeful expression. “Look, our mooring lines were already untied, and we’ve already slaughtered the rooster sacrifice for the Sea God. Forcing us to stop like this is no different from cursing us with a shipwreck the moment we set sail!”

“That is your own concern. Who told you to carry contraband? Open all cabin doors at once for a search. Once we confirm there is no contraband, you will naturally be allowed to leave.”

“Sir, this is unlawful.” The captain's face darkened. “Our vessel had already departed the dock, which means we have already left Lande territory. In territorial waters, boarding parties are only permitted to conduct spot checks; you have no right to perform an exhaustive search.”

“You dare lecture me on the law? The lord's command is the law! Stop wasting my time and hurry up, or we will execute you on the spot for insubordination.”

The officer gave a cold snort, and the soldiers behind him stepped forward in unison, slamming their rifle butts against the deck in a display of overwhelming, intimidating force.

“Wait.”

The captain was far too calm. Lynch sensed that something was off and opened his mouth to warn the officer, but...

Blinding flashes lit up the dark space below deck in rapid succession. A moment later, more than a dozen people emerged from below, followed by several laborers carrying cameras. Once the workers set the cameras back on their tripods on the deck, another flurry of clicking shutters and flashes went off. The dozen or so men and women were mostly dressed in light coats and walking shoes, holding notebooks and pens as they busily scribbled away.

“Donald, there’s no need to get angry with them.” Then, a middle-aged man in formal attire stepped forward, leisurely leaning on a walking cane. His appearance matched the smuggler's description—this had to be Jefferson. He offered a slight bow to the soldiers and priests, his eyes narrowing in a sinister smile. “How convenient. Reporters from every influential newspaper in Rhine City happen to be present. Gentlemen, please feel free to showcase the full might of our Rhine military.”

Reporters?

The color drained from most of the soldiers' and priests' faces.

Had there been no witnesses, things would have been easy to handle. If only one or two media outlets were present, they could always engage in a war of words later. But with the entire city's media gathered in one place, any misstep would be a public relations catastrophe. The question was, where had all these reporters come from?

“Heh, ten days from now marks the birthday of the Queen Mother of the Kingdom of Friedman—His Majesty Rudolph II's own aunt. As loyal subjects of His Majesty, everyone was naturally keen to cover such a grand occasion. Since our guild happened to have ships departing, we invited our Rhine colleagues along for the journey.” The shrewd businessman bared his teeth in a smile. “Why, gentlemen, do you take issue with our members of the press? Or do you still insist on violating Lande law by forcibly tearing this ship apart?”

They had walked right into a trap.

The commanding officer looked flustered and stole a glance at Knight Rick, who was also finding the situation exceedingly thorny.

These journalists were Jefferson's safety net. No wonder he had boarded the ship and set sail without any sign of panic—being escorted by representatives of the entire city's press was far safer than fleeing in frantic haste.

“Hahaha, gentlemen, do you intend to keep delaying our voyage? We aren't as idle as you; every minute of ours is precious and cannot be squandered, hehehe.”

Rick found himself caught in a dilemma. He could certainly ignore the ship full of reporters and cameras, detain everyone, and search the entire vessel. Judging by Jefferson's behavior, he was eighty percent certain the artifact was in his hands.

Yet the price for doing so would be severe. Even if they did find the stolen item, it would provoke a media storm, and other churches would happily seize the chance to kick them while they were down, ultimately tarnishing the entire Church of the Black Night's reputation. And if they failed to find it, the fallout would be even worse: Rick would become the laughingstock of Lande, and even if the church wished to protect him, they would have no choice but to punish him.

“Gentlemen, we are in the middle of discussing our reporting arrangements and truly do not have time to play games with you. If you do not intend to break the law and forcibly search the whole ship, please push the gangplank back from below. Our journalist friends have never been fond of dealing with people like you, and as for me... heh, I don't care to look at your faces either. So, please take your leave.”

“You...”

The commanding officer clenched his fists, but as he looked around at the journalists, he involuntarily took a step back. Knight Rick’s expression was equally grim. With his strength, he could easily slaughter everyone present, yet he was forced to suppress his fury, utterly helpless before Jefferson’s smug, cold sneer.

Were they really going to stand by and watch him walk away scot-free, despite knowing full well he was the culprit?

“From what you said earlier, under Lande law, spot checks of vessels in territorial waters are permitted, correct?”

Lynch pulled the hood of his robe forward. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried clearly to most people on the ship.

“Yes.” A flicker of hope ignited in Rick’s chest. “We have the authority to spot check three to five key compartments on each vessel.”

“Then that makes things simple.” Lynch strolled over to Jefferson, looked at his smug smile, and asked softly, “My good sir, what makes you think that when my Goddess misplaces something, I wouldn't be able to sense it at all?”

Jefferson’s smile froze, and he folded his arms as he took half a step back.

“Care to guess whether I can pinpoint the stolen goods you've hidden, Mr. Jefferson? Now... checkmate.”