The North Sea Fleet was docked at Dragon Bay.
Julius Reed did not disembark.
He propped up a large umbrella at the bow and leaned back in his chair.
There was a small table in front of him.
It was laden with juices and drinks.
To the uninformed, it might seem like he was on vacation.
But Dragon Bay was all dirt, no sandy beaches.
And no bikinis.
"Prince Consort, His Majesty is on the phone."
Just as Julius Reed was pondering Kyler Reed's reasons for going to Swimming City, a commander of the North Sea Fleet hurried over, holding a screen.
This was the North Sea's seventh-generation communications device.
"Prince Consort, I have heard that you have just slain Nairn Yarrow of Shu Mountain?" On the screen, Everton Davenport's face was grave, and his tone carried a hint of dissatisfaction.
Without a second thought, it had to be Baylor Davenport tattling in secret.
Gazing at the nearby Princess vessel, Julius Reed huffed lightly.
