"No!"
Becket panicked and quickly stopped George II's dangerous idea.
"Your Majesty, if we cave in, the Empire will lose the seas forever!" Becket was practically risking his life to remonstrate. "The loss to the Empire would be incalculable!"
All of Becket's power rested on the Royal Navy's might; if the navy cowered, his influence would be slashed—utterly unacceptable to a power-seeker like Becket.
"Tia Dalma!" he said, clutching at a life-saving straw. "Tia Dalma is the sea goddess—she can definitely deal with Fang Yuan!"
Tia Dalma was on site; hearing Becket, she rolled her eyes without hesitation.
She was indeed the sea goddess—well, in brackets, her mortal vessel.
Without divine power, how could she contend against Poseidon's trident?
Glancing at Elizabeth—who looked like Snow White beside her—Tia Dalma figured the most reliable plan right now was to slit her own throat on the spot and swap for an equally fair-skinned, pretty mortal vessel; maybe then there'd be a sliver of hope.
"I can aid your fleet with witchcraft!" Tia Dalma said.
Her answer was hardly inspiring.
Yet Becket's persuasion worked on George II. Setting aside his farcical demise, George II was a enterprising king and loathed abandoning the Empire's strongest pillar—the Royal Navy.
"Assemble every regiment in London—prepare to fight!" George II decided to gamble first.
Surrender later if they couldn't win.
In this regard, the King of England was no different from pirates.
"Oh, right." George II suddenly remembered something and added, "The navy has a brilliant commodore who once captured the Pirate King of the Caribbean. I'll send him to assist you!"
Becket nodded. "As you command. Coincidentally, I too have a formidable commodore."
Naval High Command: Becket sat in the main seat, surrounded by a cluster of admirals.
Vice-admirals and rear-admirals were everywhere.
Yet Becket trusted only Commodore Norrington; after all, in the previous sea battle, even under dire straits, Norrington had directed the navy to gain the upper hand.
Had Fang Yuan not produced the trident of poseidon, Norrington might already have won.
With Becket's backing, Norrington smoothly took command of most warships.
The other man Becket entrusted with heavy responsibility was—
"Will Turner, the Commander sent by His Majesty." Becket pointed at the thick-browed, big-eyed Will in introduction.
Hearing it was the king's appointee, the other senior officers held their tongues.
Normally these veteran generals would argue their case, but this time?
Gazing at the seawater shrouding half the sky outside, the old generals became remarkably broad-minded.
Let the youngsters give it a shot.
When Norrington and Will met, they quickly exchanged a look.
"Black King's?"
"Black King's!"
The corner of Norrington's eye twitched; then he glanced at Becket rather pityingly.
Good news: the war is over.
Bad news: it hasn't started yet.
With these two ticking time-bombs around, the only way Becket could win was if Tia Dalma bleached herself overnight.
"What on earth does Fang Yuan want?" Becket began pondering his motive. "After surrounding London, he's done absolutely nothing?"
Little did he know Fang Yuan was at this moment gleefully watching his skyrocketing fame.
[Fame: 143…144…]
Fang Yuan discovered that major events granted obvious multipliers; although only England was directly affected by the seawater shrouding London, his fame kept climbing.
Once the rate slowed, Fang Yuan used the trident's power to mold a water titan in his own likeness.
"I am Fang Yuan, God of the Sea. For years the navy has committed every atrocity on the oceans, destroying the relics of the gods—thus I descend to deliver divine punishment!"
The titan boomed Fang Yuan's voice, throwing the city's residents into panic.
But Becket and company, who knew the inside story, could only black-line.
The navy… committing every atrocity?
Hadn't he mixed that up with the pirates' introduction?
By Fang Yuan's own moral yardstick, the navy protected domestic merchants while running the slave trade everywhere—wasn't that every atrocity?
What? Fang Yuan did it too?
What's Fang Yuan's name?
Black King!
For the Black King to toy with Black people—perfectly justified, right?
Setting that aside, destroying divine relics was undeniable; the gods of this World had clearly fallen, and once humanity began exploring, they would naturally uncover those ruins.
Finder-keepers; if the self-proclaimed owner came knocking now, you could only blame your own bad luck.
"Moreover, you dare harbor a foreign deity!" Fang Yuan's voice rang out again; the titan now hefted a gigantic trident of seawater, cocked to throw—its target none other than Buckingham Palace where the king resided!
"Hand over the evil god and surrender to the sea, or I shall destroy this nation!"
George II shuddered.
I'm not the battlefield Commander—why are you pointing at me?
George II's heart was in turmoil; with a trident that huge crashing down, he could hemorrhage buckets without ever reaching a chamber-pot.
Tia Dalma was even more panicked—barring a miracle, the "wicked goddess" Fang Yuan had just named could only be her.
"Goddess? What goddess?"
"I'm still mortal, nothing more than a Witch—if you've got the guts, let me out for a fair fight!" Tia Dalma raged inwardly.
Already she could feel the navy sailors' eyes on her, and the looks were anything but friendly.
Even Becket hurried over to probe, "You truly have no other way?"
Tia Dalma's face was ashen.
"Witchcraft I can do, but a surge of this size needs divine power to counter."
In other words—impossible.
"Still, I can guide a handful of ships through the encircling waves," she added hastily.
She feared that if she seemed worthless, Becket would simply hand her over.
The promise gave Becket no comfort—how many men could a few ships carry?
London was the capital of Great Britain; could they abandon their own capital?
Becket's answer was—yes.
"I must see the King!" He rushed toward Buckingham Palace.
What drove Becket's frantic climb was an insatiable hunger for power.
If he surrendered now, he would be hurled straight back to square one.
But if he shepherded the King to safety and set up a government-in-exile, time might reveal another treasure that could flip the board in their favor.
"Right—drag the Swanns out and tie them to the prow of the Effort!" he ordered before leaving.
"I'll watch them," Tia Dalma volunteered.
Becket merely nodded in his haste, yet on reaching the King he found others already in attendance.
"Lowry?"
He knew the portly newcomer: the King's current favorite courtier—this very Buckingham Palace had been a gift from Lowry.
"Becket," George II greeted him, voice oddly strained. "How fares the battle?"
A tactful reply would be "not yet lost"; the blunt truth—
"There's no point continuing," Becket answered.
"Tia Dalma can slip a few ships through the blockade…" He laid out his plan: abandon London, found an overseas realm, await the day they could retake the homeland.
Neighboring France silently approved.
Yet at the mention of leaving London, George II's face darkened.
"Your Majesty, if you remain, even surviving Fang Yuan's assault may cost you every shred of power you now hold," Becket urged.
George II still gave no reply.
Suddenly Lowry spoke up. "Your Majesty has another option!"
"What?" Becket demanded.
"Strike a bargain with Fang Yuan," Lowry said calmly.
"That would be suicide!" Becket lost all composure. "Accept and the Empire is finished!"
"The Empire will not fall!"
Lowry's voice rose to match him.
"Agree to the deal, and Lord Poseidon will grant Your Majesty access to the Fountain of Youth, making you England's eternal, never-setting Sun!"
Becket froze, petrified.
The Fountain of Youth?
At those words Becket knew argument was futile.
Eternal life is every ruler's dream; even he could never spurn it.
Becket's gaze at Lowry flipped a hundred and eighty degrees.
"Lord Poseidon," so easily said?
In Becket's eyes, Lowry had become the archetype of the arch-villain minister.
From an empire on which the Sun never sets… to a king on whom the Sun never sets?
Great Britain might be weaker, yet the monarch would sit more securely than ever.
None of which helped Becket—he would never taste the Fountain, and Fang Yuan would assuredly settle scores.
He had no illusion that Fang Yuan would spare him.
"Your Majesty, can we trust pirates' promises?" Becket argued—half logic, half threat. "The navy is ready to fight; surrender could spark outright mutiny!"
He was confident Commodore Norrington, a man who loathed pirates, would back him.
Once more George II wavered; no one had ever seen the Fountain.
Yet Fang Yuan's power was obvious, and with Lowry's constant persuasion the King remained undecided.
Sensing advantage, Becket pressed on. "We still have Calypso—she knows where other treasures lie; the Empire has hope!"
"The Royal Navy is the nation's backbone. A Commander like Norrington will never accept surrender without a fight; it could topple everything!"
But even as Becket spoke, shattering news arrived—
"Naval Commander Norrington and Vice-Commander Will Turner
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