Shrouded Seascape

Chapter 202. Gavin

Chapter 202. Gavin

The captains refused to engage in further conversation with Charles. Their icy glares spoke volumes of their unwillingness, and their silence was a clear display of their hostility toward the outsider.

Perplexed, Charles rubbed the mark on his neck as he stepped out of the Association. He seemed to have unknowingly gotten himself tangled in a struggle between cults.

Giant Bird of Suffering? What in the world is that?

Looking at the bustling port before him, Charles was suddenly at a loss. The map of the Sea of Mist didn't seem to be some highly valuable, coveted secret here. However, the religious tension had added layers of complication to the matter.

Perhaps I should look for it in the black market or have Lily's mice steal a copy. This should be a trifling issue. Charles pondered as he descended the steps of the Explorers Association.

However, it didn't take long for Charles to notice something amiss. Every individual in the harbor, from the hardworking dock workers to the policemen ensuring order, shot him covert, unwelcoming looks.

They made no attempt at hiding their hostile gazes.

Does the entire island population worship the Giant Bird of Suffering? Isn't the news traveling too fast? Charles thought. His sense of unease intensified, and he quickened his pace toward the Narwhale.

Just as Charles was approaching the docks, a shadowy figure darted out from the dark alley. The figure grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the shadows.

With a swift flick of his right hand, Charles had his flesh revolver pressed against the figure's abdomen.

"Fhtagn. They who enter an eternal slumber are not dead. As time stretches beyond our understanding, even death finds its own ending."

Hearing the figure's hurried, cryptic phrase, Charles froze and stopped himself from pulling the trigger. This sounded like a street code of sorts.

The figure, clad in a ragged hood, led Charles through the twists and turns of alleys before they finally stopped in a cramped space between crowded buildings.

Pulling back his hood, a bald young man who looked no older than seventeen stood before Charles. He then smeared something on his face and vigorously rubbed it in. It didn't take long before Charles spotted the octopus tentacles tattooed across the youth's face.

The youth looked extremely excited as he reached out a hand toward Charles' neck before he hesitated and retracted.

"Sir, I beg you to please let me have a look. Just one glance will do," the youth implored.

"Do you recognize this? Who are you?" Charles asked as he pulled down his collar to display the tattoo to the youth.

However, the moment the youth laid his eyes on the inked tentacle, he convulsed violently. His eyes rolled back as though he would pass out at any moment.

Charles' brows furrowed upon witnessing the youth's bizarre reaction. He was utterly baffled by the thought processes of these cultists.

After a few moments, the youth finally regained his composure. Suppressing his overwhelming emotions, he knelt down on one knee before Charles. "Sir! Your disciple, Gavin, is at your command!"

Charles cast a doubtful look at the youth but offered no explanation to rectify the situation. "Do you have any way to get me a map of the Sea of Mist?"

Since the youth believed him to be a high-ranking member of the Fhtagn Covenant, perhaps he could make use of this to his advantage.

"Yes!" the youth affirmed readily, much to Charles' surprise.

"Sir, please follow me. It's not safe here," Gavin said as he cast a wary glance toward the window above that was slightly ajar.

The two navigated through the cramped alleys before they stopped before a decrepit hut right next to a heap of trash.

Charles stooped to enter the low doorway of the hut, which was barely 1.5 meters tall. The space within was no larger than eight square meters. It would be more appropriate to describe the place as a box rather than a dwelling.

The furniture, as worn as the walls themselves, took up much of the room. In one corner, a boy, seemingly seven or eight years old, sat huddled against the wall with a tattered black leather book in his hands.

A bag of broken biscuits was neatly placed in front of Charles, alongside several bags of dried fish of various sizes. Judging by Gavin's careful manner, these items seemed to be the best he had to offer.

Taking in the squalor of the place, Charles suddenly regretted following Gavin to this beggar's den. This Fhtagnist seemed to be having a really tough life on this island.

"Did you say you could get a map of the Sea of Mist?"

"Yes, sir. Rest assured. I'll definitely find it for you. I'll get to it right now! Just wait here."

With that, Gavin whispered some instructions to the young boy before darting out in hurried steps, leaving Charles no room to second-guess his decision.

Groooooowl.

A sudden growling sound coming from the corner of the room broke the silence. It was the boy's stomach protesting in hunger.

Looking at the dry snot on the boy's grimy face, Charles pushed the small bag of broken biscuits toward him.

The boy shook his head in refusal. "Big Brother said that it's for you, sir. I can't eat it."

"But If I were to instruct you to eat it?" Charles asked.

Hearing Charles' words, the boy's face lit up with joy. He ran over and eagerly stuffed the biscuit crumbs into his mouth.

Taking the book from the boy's hands, Charles flipped through the pages and realized that they were filled with hymns of praise to Fhtagn.

"Is your brother a Fhtagnist? Why does he believe in this god?"

"Because the Giant Bird of Suffering took away our parents but didn't grant our wishes. It's fake, so we decided to change our faith."

"What is this Giant Bird of Suffering?" Charles asked. This was the second time he had heard of the name today.

"According to the temple staff, if one torments their physical bodies for a long time, the Giant Bird of Suffering would eventually show miracles and fulfill any wish of the faithful."

Charles understood immediately—it was yet another obscure cult.

The oil in the lamp was gradually diminishing, and judging from the boy's inaction to refill it, Charles surmised that this impoverished household likely had no spare oil left.

Possessing night vision, Charles wasn't really bothered by the lack of light. Rather, he was curious if that youth, Gavin, would actually be able to procure the map.

As the minutes ticked by, Charles' patience was running thin. He had countless ways to acquire the map, and there was no need for him to rely on a Fhtagnist and waste so much time.

However, just as Charles was about to leave, a battered and bloodied Gavin stumbled in. The young man then deferentially piled the maps before Charles.

"Did you steal these maps?" Charles questioned as he eyed the blood streaming down Gavin's face.

"It's nothing! It's my honor to have been of help to you, sir!"

Charles slowly shifted his gaze from Gavin's wounded face to the charts.

Unfolding one of them, he found it significantly different from those he got from the Association.

The area that was previously blank and colored red on the Association's copy was now marked with symbols denoting islands. Additionally, several dotted lines encircled these islands. Charles recognized what they represented immediately—ocean currents.

The map wasn't detailed and merely highlighted the islands on the outskirts of the Sea of Mist. However, with the inclusion of the Shattered Heart Isles marker, this map would be more than enough to serve its purpose.

Scooping up the charts, Charles fished out a check from his pocket. He scribbled a series of numbers and handed it to Gavin. "Take this. It's your reward."