Louis woke up with a slight tremor, sat up from the bed, walked to the porthole, raised his hand to turn the shade open, and outside the thickened round porthole, the night had not yet faded.
The sea was as calm as if there were almost no waves, with only the occasional flying fish leaping from the water in the distance, leaving a fleeting silver line on the surface, quickly swallowed by the darkness.
The ship was sailing on a path away from the mainland battlefield.
The campaign of the Holy Eastern Empire no longer needed his personal oversight.
The frontline command had been entirely entrusted to Lambert and Gray.
The former was responsible for order and takeover, while the latter managed advancement and cleanup, each fulfilling their roles without overlap or need for repeated confirmation.
Louis stayed here because more important matters awaited him.
He withdrew his gaze, walked to the washstand, splashed his face with cold water, and his sleepiness quickly faded.
