The Restoration of Rome: In the Name of Augustus

Chapter 194 Thunder and Storm

Chapter 194 Thunder and Storm

Lyon and Henry returned to their cabin, where a sumptuous dinner was soon served.

The two of them didn't stand on ceremony and began to eat.

As Leon tore at the fish, he casually remarked, "I thought Stephen was a hidden talent, but I didn't expect—"

Even Isaac is inferior. The governor of Simeon is the same; how could someone with no background and mediocre ability be appointed as the garrison commander of a city? I think Isaac is better than him.”

Henry, who was sipping wine, looked up at the words, let out a burp, and a playful glint in his eyes: "Your Highness, a garrison commander is ultimately concerned with military command and city defense, not individual martial prowess. Perhaps this fellow does have some skill in troop deployment?"

He paused, lowered his voice, and said with a hint of mystery, "And—I noticed a detail when I fought him just now."

"What details?" Leon stopped what he was doing.

"The sword he used," Henry wiped his hands and gestured to the name, "was a standard Imperial officer's sword, nothing special. But—near the hilt, there was a line of small characters engraved on the blade."

"Inscription? Motto? Or family crest?" Lyon asked.

“That’s the problem.” Henry frowned, a rare look of distress on his face. “I recognize some Greek letters and speak Greek, but reading complex inscriptions—that’s not my forte. And that line of text seemed a bit obscure, not the usual ‘God Bless,’ ‘Loyal to the Emperor,’ or family name abbreviations. I glanced at it but didn’t see it clearly; I just noticed the shapes were a bit unusual.”

Lyon became interested: "Do you remember roughly what it looked like? Write it down and let me see."

Henry tried to recall, gesturing with his fingers on the wine-stained table, but quickly gave up and asked Lyon for paper and pen.

He frowned, trying hard to recall the impression from that glimpse, and scribbled a few characters crookedly on the parchment.

Due to his hazy memory and his lack of proficiency in writing Greek characters, the characters he drew were full of errors, strange shapes, and connected together, making them almost impossible to recognize.

Lyon took the paper and examined it carefully by the light of the oil lamp.

At first, he thought it might be an abbreviation of a motto or maxim, or the mark of a little-known family.

He tried to spell the distorted letter combinations, but it made no sense.

Time slipped away in silent contemplation.

Outside the cabin, it was completely dark.

The warm and gentle southwest wind during the day has, without us even realizing it, quietly changed its nature.

The wind began to pick up noticeably, and the sound of it blowing over the sails changed from a whimper to a low growl. The ship also began to rock more frequently and more violently than during the day.

The sound of the waves crashing against the hull grew louder and louder.

Lyon was completely unaware; all his attention was focused on the ambiguous characters.

He dismissed one guess after another, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper.

A surname? Could it be a surname? A relatively long, uncommon Greek surname?

He picked up a pen and tried to reconstruct the possibly correct letter based on Henry's crooked strokes.

Remove obviously incorrect cursive strokes and add any missing parts.

He unconsciously muttered possible combinations of syllables.

The wind outside grew stronger, and the faint sounds of sailors furling some of the sails and hurried footsteps could be heard.

The boat rocked even more violently, and the cups and plates on the table began to slide gently.

Suddenly, Leon's finger stopped in front of a certain combination on the paper, and his eyes widened sharply.

A name that was extremely difficult to pronounce, yet which he had only glimpsed briefly in his memory, suddenly illuminated his mind like a flash of lightning in the darkness.

"Ha—Gio—Christopher—Frit?"

He pronounced the long and strange surname combination almost word by word, extremely slowly and laboriously.

"Hagio Cristoferritis!"

He looked up abruptly at Henry, his eyes filled with shock and disbelief.

Stephen Haggio Cristoferritis!

This man was once a close confidant of Andronica!

The one Andronica sent to capture Isaac Angelos, only to have him easily killed by Isaac Angelos like a chopping fruit!

Lyon's voice trembled with urgency and horror: "My God—Isaac Angelos—Stephen Haggio Cristofrite—Simaeon Ducas—Nicaea—what on earth is going on?!"

Countless clues and doubts exploded in his mind in an instant.

Their relationship is definitely not as simple as it seems!

A terrifying and vague outline of a conjecture seems to be emerging from the depths of a turbulent sea, yet it is shrouded in even more mist, remaining untouchable.

Just then—

"Boom!"

A deafening clap of thunder suddenly tore through the night sky outside the ship's cabin.

The violent lightning flashed, turning the porthole a ghastly white before being swallowed by the inky darkness.

Almost simultaneously, a chaotic commotion erupted from the deck.

Sailors and soldiers screamed and ran in terror, baggage and cargo tumbling and crashing, sails being torn apart with a disturbing hissing sound.

The cabin began to rock violently, the oil lamps suddenly fell to the ground and went out, and Lyon and Henry were caught off guard and were almost thrown off their seats.

"Storm! It's a storm!" Henry roared in the darkness.

Lyon's heart sank to the bottom; an ominous premonition overwhelmed him like icy seawater.

It's August now. Normally, how could we encounter such a storm? How could people be so unlucky?

"Henry!" Lyon grabbed onto a sturdy wooden post amidst the violent jolts, his voice barely audible in the roar of the waves. "Watch out! Check the deck! But be extremely cautious!"

"Understood!" Henry sprang to his feet, groping his way towards the cabin door. "Your Highness, please stay inside and lock the door! Don't open it for anyone unless I return!"

Henry flung open the hatch, and a hurricane of raindrops and sea foam rushed in, almost knocking him over.

He struggled against the wind to squeeze out, then slammed the door shut behind him.

Leon clung tightly to the support pillar amidst the dizzying, violent swaying and deafening roar of the wind and waves.

Suddenly, the ship made a loud noise, and then, as if struck hard from the side by an invisible mountain, the entire ship tilted violently to one side at a terrible angle.

"Ah—!" A desperate cry of alarm echoed from the deck.

Leon, who was inside the cabin, could no longer maintain his balance. Along with all the unsecured items, he was violently thrown up by the force and then slammed down.

Before the excruciating pain of his head hitting the hard wooden board could reach him, Leon instantly lost consciousness.