Shrouded Seascape

Chapter 203. Sick

Chapter 203. Sick

Gavin's eyes widened in surprise. Glee painted his face as he mentally counted the number of zeroes written on the check. However, he immediately shook his head and waved his hands in rejection. "No, no, no. It's my honor to serve you, sir, who bears His divine mark. I don't need the compensation."

Charles didn't try to argue or persuade. Instead, he assertively pressed the check into Gavin's hand. "Take this and get your wounds treated. I don't like owing debts."

Then, Charles looked at Gavin again and questioned, "How much do you know about the Sea of Mist?"

Gavin promptly replied, "Sir. That region is called the Sea of Mist because it is shrouded in a perpetual fog. It's the territory of the Haikors. Those towering beings usually show no aggression unless they are provoked. They can be quite formidable if that happens."

Charles' brows slightly furrowed. Gavin's words mirrored the words of that captain from the Association.

If the so-called Sea of Mist is not as dangerous as rumored, then why is Elizabeth so concerned about me taking this trip? Is she lying? No, that can’t be; she has no reason to lie.

"Sir, if you need detailed information, I can search the library for travelogs on the Haikor Tribe's islands," Gavin offered, his words breaking Charles' thoughts.

Charles shook his head and headed for the door. Having procured the map, it was time for his departure. With most of the population regarding him with hostility, staying any longer on this island than required could be perilous.

When Charles appeared at the bustling docks again, he had a refined black gentleman's hat atop his head and a muted gray scarf draped around his neck. With the change in his appearance, he could feel a drastic decrease in the prying eyes that once followed his every move.

Gazing at the Narwhale docked in the distance, Charles suddenly halted in his tracks. Without even turning his head, he said, "State what you want. Be quick. I have no time for games."

He had noticed the footsteps behind him for a very long while. That Fhtagnist, Gavin, had been tailing him.

Clad in his ragged hood, Gavin rushed forward. With fervent zest, he explained, "Sir, I mean no harm. It's just my first time meeting a true Chosen One, blessed with the Divine Mark. I just wish to linger by your side a little longer in hopes that God Fhtagn might actually see me and bestow His grace upon me."

After a slight pause, Gavin continued, "Sir, I've heard that those blessed with the Mark are protected by the seas. The waters protect them like a mother with her child. Is that true?"

With a hint of annoyance creasing his brow, Charles turned to face him, "Why are you so obsessed with gods? Isn't living a good life with your brother more important than Fhtagn?"

Gavin seemed to have received a tremendous shock. "Sir, how could you say that? The scriptures clearly state that God Fhtagn is omnipotent and omniscient. The Great One deemed faith to be more important than all else. Only those who listened in earnest to His voice can receive His blessings and attain eternal life."

Charles was genuinely perplexed. How did these cults manage to brainwash their followers with such blatant lies?

"You truly are a lost cause..." Before Gavin could respond, Charles hastened his steps toward the distant Narwhale. Meanwhile, Gavin stood frozen in place as he watched Charles leave.

Within the brightly lit captain's quarters of the Narwhale, Charles spread out the newly acquired map. Picking up a ruler, he and First Mate Bandages began plotting their course on the map.

With the combined efforts of the two, it didn't take long for a serpentine dashed line to appear on the map. This was the course they intended to follow.

"Our destination, Shattered Heart Isles, is here," Charles said as he placed his index finger on the marked island. He then traced a nearby dashed line, "If we catch this current, we'll reach the island in fifteen days at the earliest, give or take. However, we have never sailed these waters, and we need to be wary about going off-course."

"Alright...How's your...mental state... holding up?" Bandages' concern wasn't unfounded. Charles' uncharacteristic reactions on the return trip during their last voyage had raised alarms.

"I'm fine. I can endure it. My condition is better now after resting on land for quite a while. I can hold on until we reach the island that can break the curse."

Charles then turned to Dipp, who was dozing off beside them. "Hey, wake up."

He had summoned Dipp to participate and confirm the route, given that Dipp was also at the helm. Yet, from the moment Dipp entered the room, he had been constantly nodding off as though he hadn't slept a wink the previous night.

In an instant, the lethargic expression on Dipp's face was wiped off, and a completely different demeanor took over. "Captain, don't worry. He isn't listening, but the two of us haven't been idle."

Charles had no interest in finding out the name of this particular person. Tapping on the chart, he instructed, "Tell your sailors to raise the anchor. We're setting sail."

The Narwhale let out a deep, resonant bellow as she slowly moved out from the dock and ventured into the darkness beyond.

With the detailed chart in his hands, Charles soon located the maritime highway—the current that would hasten their journey.

Despite the lack of visual cues at sea, and the crew felt no change, measurements confirmed that the current had indeed significantly increased their speed.

The ocean current seemed to have insulated all dangers. Ever since the Narwhale entered it, not a single incident had occurred. The peace for the next couple of days felt a bit excessive.

However, under such circumstances, an unexpected event happened—Dipp had fallen sick.

"Doctor, what's wrong with the kid?" Charles asked with a look of concern. His gaze was fixated on Dipp, who was lying on the sickbed, clutching his throat and coughing violently.

Standing before an array of glassware, Laesto meticulously mixed various peculiar liquids. He combined concoctions and intermittently added an assortment of strange ingredients.

Finally, Laesto brought the resultant potion to his lips and tilted his head back to drink it all.

After savoring the flavor in his mouth for a moment, Laesto turned to Charles and said, "No worries. He'll survive. The cause remains unknown. But his current symptoms are mild—just a slight drop in body temperature. I'm treating it now."

Looking at Dipp's pallid face that was devoid of even a trace of healthy hue, Charles felt that it was no minor problem.

Dipp's coughing slowed, and he looked visibly weak. In a hoarse whisper, he said, "Captain, I dreamt of my mother again. Her embrace... is so warm."

Charles recalled Dipp's recent behavior and turned to Laesto. "Could he be seeing hallucinations, auditory or visual, because of the sea's chantings?"

"Impossible. The boy's been on land for three years. Any mental contamination would have been purged by then. You're not even dead yet, so how could he experience hallucinations? Go and man the wheel. He won't die under my watch."

Giving Dipp a reassuring pat on the shoulder, Charles then left the infirmary with a gloomy expression.

It was Bandages' shift at the helm, so Charles didn't have to be at the bridge. He returned to his quarters. Opening his diary, he started to pen a new entry.

May 12, 12th Year of Crossing Over

I had thought that the voyage to the Southern Seas would be simple and straightforward. But it seems like no sea bears safe passage in this subterranean realm.

My boatswain has fallen sick. Even Doctor was unable to diagnose his condition. I'm worried.

All I can do is leave my Dark Blade with him and hope that he’ll endure until we reach Shattered Heart Isles. Most dangers on the sea can be resolved once we're back on land. I hope that applies to Dipp's condition as well.