Chapter 8: Advice from a Former Sailor

Chapter 8: Advice from a Former Sailor

The hall of the Pritz Harbor Ticketing Company was quite spacious, with a full seven ticket windows, yet more than a dozen or even twenty people were already lined up before each one.

Klein glanced around. Instead of heading directly to the line with relatively fewer people, he took two steps to the right and arrived before a brown wooden board standing perfectly upright.

Sheets of white paper had been pasted onto the board in sequence, announcing all passenger-ship information for the coming week. This included destinations, ports of call, and ticket prices for different cabin classes.

Before Klein had time to read carefully, a staff member came over and drew a red circle around the second-class cabin section on one of the rows, marking it with a word:

“Sold out.”

“Quite popular…” Klein murmured.

“Of course. Pritz Harbor is the kingdom’s largest port. Countless people pass through here on their way to the Southern Continent and the colonial islands to seek opportunities,” a middle-aged man standing beside the wooden board replied in a somewhat exaggerated tone.

He wore a black soft cap and a black-and-white checkered uniform resembling that of the police, but without epaulettes. Only a seagull badge hung at his chest—the same emblem as that of the Pritz Harbor Ticketing Company.

The middle-aged man’s face, hands, and all exposed skin were bronze-colored and rather rough, as though they had long endured the sea breeze and the scorching sun, giving the impression that grains of salt had seeped into his wrinkles.

If there’s a dispute, seek the guards in the hall… This should be one of the guards… Klein recalled the notice at the entrance and did not mind the man taking the initiative to speak. He smiled and said, “You seem to know this harbor very well.”

Hearing the question, the middle-aged man answered with considerable pride, “I used to be a sailor in the kingdom’s navy. Their main base is on Oak Island in Pritz Harbor. I served for fifteen years and spent a long stretch of my life here and at sea. If the war in East Balam hadn’t ruined my health, I could have remained a sailor for another ten years! I know this harbor as well as I know my wife’s body!”

A little educated, yet somewhat vulgar… With the intention of gathering information about the sea, Klein chatted casually.

“After retiring, you came here to work as a guard?”

“No. I was stuffed into a night school for a full two years, both as a student and as a gatekeeper. Storms above, can you imagine a man my age reading aloud together with a group of children only a few years old or in their teens? And they recognized and remembered words faster than I did!” The guard revealed an expression as though he could not bear to recall it.

As he spoke, he patted the outside of his thigh and sighed.

“Unfortunately, whenever the weather turns damp and cold, my knees cannot take it. Otherwise, I would also work part-time as a night-school teacher. Those children make you feel as if you have grown young again. Of course, I will not deny that I would do it to earn more money. When you have a wife and four children, you must recognize that you have to support your family.”

Sir, you talk a bit too much… Perhaps that is why the ticketing company hired you as a guard… Klein did not continue the topic. He smiled and said, “I looked at the notice by the entrance just now and saw that opening cans of wolffish is prohibited here. To be honest, I have never heard of such a thing.”

The guard’s expression suddenly became complicated.

Pinching his nose, he said, “It is a food popular along the east coast of Feysac, in the Gargas Archipelago, and similar places. It is wolffish cured with salt, but the blood is preserved. The smell—the smell is extremely, extremely, extremely stimulating. It is foul and disgusting!”

So it is a kind of dark cuisine… Klein laughed.

“But I imagine no one would deliberately eat canned food while queuing to buy tickets, right?”

“No, you do not understand that feeling. Perhaps one day you will.” The guard looked as though he still had lingering fear. “There was once a northern barbarian who came here to buy a ticket. But there were already many people in front of him, and the hall was packed like a wooden barrel full of fish. He was very anxious, so he opened a can of wolffish. In less than ten seconds, only he and a few others remained in the entire hall.”

This… This is a biochemical weapon… The ordinary version of the Biological Poison Bottle… Klein said with amusement, “In the end, he bought his ticket smoothly, and the notice outside gained a new rule?”

“The result was not as he expected. The ladies and gentlemen in charge of selling tickets ran out as well. Heh, you know how it is. Barbarians have worse brains than curly-haired baboons!” The guard clicked his tongue and laughed. “Back when I was still a sailor, there was once such a rumor at sea. A group of pirates seized a merchant ship from Laws—ah, that is a city on the eastern coast of Feysac. In any case, those pirates eagerly opened their spoils, only to discover that they were wooden barrels filled with salted wolffish. And the result—can you imagine the result? They fainted, vomited, lost the ability to fight, and became bounties for the crew.”

“A good story.” Klein held back his laughter.

He turned his gaze back to the papers on the wooden board and began looking for ship information for January 5th.

As a professional, he had divined in advance the suitable dates for setting sail within the week. One was the fifth, the other the eighth. Among the passenger ships heading to the Rorsted Archipelago on the fifth, the ones that suited him best were the Saint Felan and the White Agate.

Both still have tickets, and the prices are more or less the same. Third class, four pounds. Second class, ten pounds. First class, thirty-five pounds… People who make their living from the sea more or less believe in the Lord of Storms. Even in countries such as Intis and Feysac, fishermen and crewmen secretly worship this forbidden deity in hopes of a smooth voyage… The name Saint Felan clearly comes from a saint of the Church of Storms, so it should have a certain background… Klein carefully considered the matter and inclined toward choosing the White Agate.

He did not rush to decide. Instead, he turned to the guard.

“Do you know anything about the White Agate?”

The guard immediately smiled.

“Sir, you have a good eye. The White Agate is a steamship, but it still retains sails. Its top speed can reach sixteen knots.

“And its captain is very experienced. He used to be the boatswain of the Royal Navy’s King William V. No, I should say the Royal Navy—the king has always declared that he has obtained the imperial title of Balam. Heh. In the Royal Navy, no matter how outstanding or excellent an ordinary person is, he can at most become a boatswain. He cannot serve as an officer unless—unless you can satisfy your superior, by whatever means, any means at all! Only then can you be recommended to Pritz Naval Academy and become a reserve officer!

“Elland was forced to leave the navy because of that. He joined the White Agate and step by step became its captain.

“I suggest you choose first class. That way, you will have a room large enough for three or four servants to sleep in, attendants who have taken etiquette courses, a designated skilled chef, a quiet dining room from which you can appreciate the scenery, a special room for smoking cigars, and a place where people gather to play cards…”

Seeing the guard speak in such detail, Klein could not help becoming suspicious.

Noticing his expression, the guard laughed awkwardly.

“Elland used to be my superior. He often treats me to drinks and asks me to help sell first-class cabins. But you can rest assured—every word I said is true!”

The problem is not whether it is true or false. The problem is money… Klein muttered silently to himself.

He had already made his decision. After considering his words, he asked again, “Sir, what advice would you give a sea adventurer?”

To match the identity of Gehrman Sparrow, Klein had previously made slight adjustments to his image, making himself appear colder and sharper.

“Adventurer?” The guard unconsciously raised his voice.

In the queues waiting for tickets, quite a few people turned their heads at the sound and cast their gazes toward Klein.

Following a certain line of sight through his spiritual intuition, Klein instinctively looked over.

He saw a man in his thirties wearing a black top hat. The man had a rugged face, weathered lines, a sturdy though not especially upright build, and pale-blue eyes that seemed to have experienced many things.

Another adventurer? Klein and the man’s gazes briefly met before each looked away.

At this moment, the guard forced out a smile and said, “My apologies. I am a bit sensitive to the word adventurer. In my impression, it is practically the same as desperado, sea scoundrel, and oathbreaker. No, I am not talking about you.

“Sincere advice? I—uh, you must remember three points.

“First, do not provoke pirates. Second, do not provoke pirates. Third, still do not provoke pirates!

“Unless you are from the navy or the Church, do not oppose pirates!”

“Uh… Do not be deceived by the warmth of the girls on the islands either. They are either people of the pirates, or they want you to take them to Pritz, to Backlund. This is not entirely their fault. Many sailors, crewmen, and passengers, in order to deceive them into bed, paint for them a very tempting picture of the great metropolis and an exceptionally beautiful life, then kick them out of their beds and abandon them where they were.”

What a vile bunch of people… Then again, in this era, those who make a living at sea are hardly likely to be very kind… Is order at sea really that poor? Are pirates really that rampant? Klein nodded.

“Thank you. I understand what I should do.”

After saying this, he walked toward the line with the fewest people.

Behind him, the guard called out, “Also, most treasure legends at sea are fake!”

…

After buying a second-class ticket for the White Agate, Klein returned to the hotel and patiently waited for nightfall.

During this process, he enjoyed Pritz Harbor’s most famous fried fish. He found the taste fairly good, though he was certain he would not be able to accept eating it all the time.

When the time approached eight o’clock, he entered the world above the gray fog. Holding the badge from Lanevus in one hand, he wrote the corresponding sentence with the other:

“The situation of this gathering.”

Tick. Tock. When the hands of his pocket watch reached the scheduled position of eight o’clock, he closed his eyes, leaned back in his chair, and began repeatedly reciting the divination statement.

He had reason to believe that when the “door” of the gathering opened, he, who possessed the locating badge, could use this medium above the gray fog to divine certain things!

His previous failure had been because nothing had yet appeared. This time was different. The matter was taking place, and Klein possessed a sufficiently accurate medium!

Very soon, Klein entered that gray and hazy world of dreams.

He saw the quietly surging Tasok River. He saw the broad valley caught between its two sides. He saw a dozen or so people in different locations, each enveloped by faint light, vanishing from where they stood in ways that were either blurred or illusory.

One of them had black hair and green eyes. He was rather handsome, and was clearly someone Klein knew.

Leonard Mitchell!