Chapter 1201:
Reassured, Cathy let out a small sigh of relief and left the room.
Wesley reached over and picked up the wooden walking stick leaning against his bed. Completely ignoring what the doctor had told him about staying put, he pushed himself up and slowly walked over to the small window. Evening had arrived, and the final edge of the sun was barely visible above the horizon, casting a weak, fading light across the endless sea. The sharp, briny smell of the ocean drifted through the open window, and Wesley could see passengers gathered on the lower deck, admiring the beautiful view.
The sunset painted the horizon in fading colors. Wesley remained standing at the fourth-floor window, his eyes scanning the vast expanse of dark water stretching out in front of him.
Far behind their massive vessel, another ship followed in their wake. Wesley dropped his gaze, his face completely blank and unreadable as he sank into his thoughts.
Meanwhile, on the pursuing ship, Lance looked at Elena with concern etched across his face. “El, that huge ship up there is the Gaxora. Are we seriously going to board that thing?”
The mysterious and powerful owner of the Gaxora was not someone to be taken lightly.
Elena positioned herself at the very front of their ship, her intense gaze locked onto the massive Gaxora ahead. Her ability to see in the dark was unusually sharp, and even though the sun was almost gone, she could still clearly make out the figures of individual people moving around on the distant deck. As their ship continued to close the distance, her eyes suddenly fixed on one specific person.
Elena’s eyes locked onto a familiar figure. Was that really Cathy? What was she doing on the Gaxora?
Alleyne noticed Elena staring and stepped closer. “You okay? What’s up?”
Elena looked away casually. “Nothing.”
She didn’t care much about Cathy. As long as Cathy wasn’t causing trouble, she could be wherever she wanted on that ship. Their vessel closed in fast on the Gaxora’s side.
The guards aboard the Gaxora spotted them and immediately tensed. “Who’s there? Drop your weapons and put your hands up!”
Lance stepped forward with a grin. “Relax, we’re not looking for a fight. A friend of ours is missing and might be on your ship. We just want to check.”
One guard rushed off to report, and soon a stern-looking middle-aged man in a suit arrived.
The man, the Gaxora’s manager, listened and said, “Folks, the rules here are strict. Nobody boards without an invitation. Do you have one?”
Lance tried. “Can’t you make an exception—”
But he was cut off immediately. “No invite, no boarding.”
Lance pressed harder. “I’m a prince of Yoswye. We’re not here to cause trouble. We just need to find someone.”
At the mention of “prince,” the manager’s expression softened slightly. The Gaxora sometimes docked at Yoswye’s ports for supplies, and they had no desire to upset the royal family.
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