This is the northernmost port on the East Coast, bustling with countless ships coming and going on any given day. It is also one of the few ports on the East Coast that offer passage to the Main Continent—not every port has ships sailing to the Main Continent.
Because of this, and its remote location, Second-class Port was unaffected by the recent battle between the Revenge Alliance Wizards and Deep Blue Castle, operating as usual.
The time neared dusk.
The sun, low in the west on this winter day, lazily scattered its golden light around Second-class Port. From a distance, the sea looked as though it was tinged with rust, shimmering with ripples.
The sound of seawater arose as a mid-sized sea vessel, under the skilled guidance of the helmsman, swiftly navigated through a fleet of cargo ships and docked at Second-class Port.
Several broad, heavy gangplanks were lowered from the ship’s side, accurately bridging the gap to the shore and allowing passengers to disembark onto land.
The gangplanks wobbled slightly as Richard stepped down from the ship, setting foot in Second-class Port—it had been over ten days since the battle.
During those ten days, Richard had wasted no time. He left the battlefield and headed straight for the nearest small port. From there, he traveled by ship to a medium-sized port, then took a wooden ship from that port and finally arrived at the large Second-class Port, with the intention of sailing to the Main Continent from there.
He knew he could travel to the Main Continent from here, thanks to Sherlock. It had been at the foot of the Rocky Mountains outside Auburn City where he had met Sherlock, and they had exchanged much information. It was then that Sherlock told him that the simplest way to the Main Continent was to catch a ship from Second-class Port. At that time, Sherlock was also on his way to Second-class Port with a long caravan of supplies.
Richard wondered if Sherlock had arrived already?
With these thoughts in mind, Richard took a deep breath. The cold, salty air filled his lungs and revitalized his spirit. He turned his head to survey the entirety of Second-class Port.
It was clear that Second-class Port was indeed one of the few large harbors along the entire East Coast, much larger and more prosperous than places like Hai Ya Port or Muxu Port.
Inside the port, vessels of all sizes were packed tightly together, like sardines in a tin. Ships unfamiliar with the harbor could hardly anchor within the harbor itself, but had to stop over the shallow waters outside, taking smaller boats to shore and then seeking help to moor.
Beyond the port and heading inland, bustling streets emerged. Each street was lined with shops selling a variety of goods, with young clerks shouting their wares at the entrance.
Naturally, there was no shortage of pubs and inns between the shops, ready to serve the traveling merchants. Occasionally a drunk, reeling from the taverns, would stumble onto the hard, slippery ground and, caught off guard, would "splat" right onto the pavement.
After all, this was the far north of the East Coast.
Even though the East Coast was by the sea, it was bitterly cold in winter. Melted snow flowed along the streets, and after a night under the biting winds, would form a surface as smooth and hard as glass.
In such conditions, the drunks, after a spectacular fall, would often struggle for many minutes without being able to stand up, drawing laughter from passersby.
Enraged, the drunk would curse loudly, but realizing he couldn’t get up, he decided to lie down right there and take a nap.
This was very dangerous. As night fell, the winter winds, sharp as blades, could quickly steal away every bit of warmth from a body. Someone who dared to sleep on the street wouldn’t have to wait until midnight to freeze stiff and become an icy human statue.
Finally, a young clerk from a nearby shop couldn’t bear to watch any longer. He pulled the sleeping drunk up and dragged him into the shop, planning to send the man home once he had sobered up.
The store owner was clearly upset by the drunken behavior and reprimanded the offender, but ultimately didn’t throw the drunkard out.
Richard took in the whole scene with a twinkle in his eye, sensing that the moral standards in Second-class Port were quite decent.
But he didn’t dwell on it, stepping forward and heading off into the distance, ready to find an inn to stay in first.
However, as he passed a tavern, he saw a large caravan parked at the side of the road, unloading its cargo, with one person continuously giving orders.
With a raised eyebrow, Richard walked over to the person giving commands and patted them on the shoulder, voicing his surprise, "You’ve only just arrived?"
"Ah?" The person turned around in a daze, first staring blankly, then spoke with some surprise, "You got here before me?"
It was none other than Sherlock.
Richard shrugged his shoulders and couldn’t help saying to Sherlock, "Seriously though, you’re so slow. You left days before me, and you’re just getting to Second-class Port now?"
"You can’t blame me for that, my dear friend," Sherlock said, pointing at the long line of carriages, "You see how much I have to bring. How can I be fast? I’m already speeding up my journey as much as I can! But isn’t it a good thing? We can head to the Main Continent together and look after each other.
I’ve already got word that a sea vessel from the Main Continent will be passing through Second-class Port in three days. We can board it and head to the Main Continent then."
"That does sound good," Richard nodded.
"It seems you agree. Since that’s the case, let’s not stand around here anymore," Sherlock said, looking quite chilly as he breathed on his hands and rubbed his ears, completely lacking his previous noble and gentlemanly demeanor.
Reaching out, he pulled over the little maid named Lucia and led the way, "I still have cargo to unload. Let’s warm up inside the tavern and grab something to eat in the meantime."
"Sure," Richard had no reason to refuse and agreed, accompanying Sherlock and the little maid into the nearby tavern.
Inside the tavern, the stove was burning fiercely, sending a wave of heat towards them as they entered.
Sherlock stretched out his body and exclaimed, "Now that’s the good life, outside it’s practically hell," and with that, he moved to sit nearest to the stove.
The inn’s waiter ran over attentively, handing over the menu and asking, "Here’s the menu, sir. Take a look, please. What would you like to order?"
Sherlock took the menu and quickly glanced through it, his brow furrowing slightly as he looked up at the waiter, "There doesn’t seem to be anything special on this menu. It’s all pickled chicken and duck. Don’t you have anything else?"
"May I ask what the guest is referring to..." the waiter asked cautiously.
"For example... the Tiger Striped Spot Fish that Second-class Port is known for, do you have that? Find me the fattest ones and stew a couple of them."
"That..." the waiter looked troubled, "I’m very sorry sir, but the Tiger Striped Spot Fish is so popular that it sold out this morning."
"And what about the Black Ear Shell?" Sherlock continued, acting knowledgeable, "A soup made from the Black Ear Shell is really excellent. I couldn’t forget it after the last time I had it."
The waiter looked even more distressed, "That sold out even quicker than the Tiger Striped Spot Fish."
"Is that so." Sherlock sighed, appearing a bit disappointed, but not giving up, he persisted, "What about the Big Fire Rock Crab? Ordinary sea crabs must surely be out, but I know that Big Fire Rock Crabs are abundant right now and very delicious. If you have them, reserve two for each person at this table."