The Vastness of Magical Destiny
Chapter 495: Volume 11: Misty Cage and Smoke Lock, - 7: Recruitment

Chapter 495: Volume 11: Misty Cage and Smoke Lock, Chapter 7: Recruitment

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Two high-footed wine glasses were placed in front of the captain’s cabin’s forward-looking arched table, their crystal-clear bodies shimmering under the light mist rising from the sea and the clouds, reflecting vibrantly. The base made of oak barrel was quite tall, and the front end had a movable support, which evidently was designed specially for pouring wine. The dark brown barrel must have been of considerable age, and the metal crest on the side with a spread-winged double-headed eagle was barely discernible.

The golden liquid swiftly filled the glasses along their walls, with the fragrant smell of juniper, lemon peel, and cinnamon diffusing through the released vapors, enveloping the entire captain’s cabin in an intoxicating atmosphere.

"Care for a drink? I don’t have honey wine from home here. Drinking honey wine at sea is looked down upon, except by ladies. Although I also love the honey wine from home, I can’t break with convention," the bearded captain said, lifting his glass and handing it over.

Taking the glass, Komer nodded and brought his nose close to it, gently sniffing. This gin from the North isn’t very popular in the South, but for sailors who spend years at sea, it’s a rare fine drink.

The strong spirit and aromatic fragrance could very well alleviate the sailors’ dreary and dull moods. In addition, gin, ranging from expensive to cheap and available in various kinds, fits all levels of consumption, which is also the main reason for the sailors’ fondness for it.

Komer wasn’t very partial to drinking, but the memories of the lavish Cyprian lifestyle almost entirely involved lingering in bars and taverns, places of right and wrong. Wine, an indispensable part of the noble life, had been deeply ingrained in the joyous days of Komer’s memory.

As his tongue barely touched the liquid, memories of bygone days seemed to flood back into his mind. Komer’s face revealed a complex expression, "Old Tom of Jinlus?"

A flash of surprise crossed the bearded captain’s face—this was his prized brew. Although gin didn’t need aging, kindred spirits were rare. Portalan himself had been reluctant to indulge in this barrel that chronicled his history of wandering. Unexpectedly, his guest had identified it at once.

"Your Lordship is indeed a connoisseur. Yes, this is Old Tom from the Seville Jinlus Winery. I never found the right moment to savor it, but I didn’t expect to be able to appreciate this ultimate gin with your Lordship here today."

Portalan’s words indicated that it was unlikely he was a member of the Corinth City-State Union’s Great Aristocracy.

Old Tom may be expensive and rare, but for the Great Aristocracy, such indulgent pleasures were always essential. Komer used to spend time recklessly in taverns in Cyprus; though he didn’t favor such strong spirits like Old Tom, he and people like Ilot had drowned themselves in intoxication. They had even tried to intoxicate barmaids with the expensive spirit and take advantage in their drunkenness. Komer was not unfamiliar with the special fragrance of Old Tom.

"Mr. Portalan, you may call me Ress. Although I’ve tasted Old Tom, I don’t like it. It’s just been distilled one more time to increase its potency. My taste is lighter, as I said before, I prefer wines that focus on flavor, like honey wine and ice wine," Komer replied.

When it came to wine, Komer was not an expert. He didn’t want to give the impression of being overly insincere. Captain Portalan had made a good impression on him, and Komer had earned his respect in return. He hoped the atmosphere could be maintained.

"Oh, I didn’t expect Mr. Ress to have such unique tastes," said the bearded captain with a fleeting look of regret, soon replaced by a sincere smile. "No matter, wine tasting is all about the atmosphere. Drowning sorrows in drink only adds to the grief within people’s hearts. Meeting Mr. Ress today must be fate."

The smooth wine slipped down the throat, bringing a fiery heat. The two, engaged in pleasant conversation, quickly entered a slightly tipsy state. For Portalan, the potency of Old Tom’s gin might not have been much, but for Komer, it was clearly a bit overwhelming.

This feeling of mild intoxication was rather pleasant. Returning to his room, Komer discovered that such a sensation allowed his closed heart to open all at once. A tumult of emotions and pressures were released as he sat silently on the edge of his bed, contemplating. Whispering a spell, he released the Cosmic Bag, and a delicate harp slowly floated out from its mouth.

Sitting alone at the bow, the twilight vast, the rolling sea gently complemented him. Komer plucked the harp strings lightly, and a series of somber notes tumbled forth, "Spring water always flows to the rivers, and the rivers into the sea, the gentle breezes of heaven always bear a sweet sentiment; in this world, what is ever alone? All things, by natural law, must converge in a spirit. Why then do you and I stand apart?"

"You see the mountains kissing the blue sky, waves embracing one another; who has ever seen flowers that do not get along, sisters scorn their brothers? The sunshine embraces the earth tightly, and moonlight kisses the sea’s waves, but what is the use of all these kisses, if you refuse to kiss me?"

Dressed in a white nightgown, Lome stood quietly by the window, watching Komer playing his harp and singing with great passion at the ship’s bow. It was the first time she saw the Great Sage so engrossed, so freely singing, the impact on Lome’s soul nearly brought her to tears. What deep sorrow had wounded the Great Sage so badly that he possessed such a melancholic, profound emotion, yet as fiery as flames?

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In the following two days, Komer’s friendship with Portalan grew rapidly. Komer had an inexplicable fondness for the captain who always seemed to carry a hint of melancholy and desolation. The vast knowledge Portalan shared over the two days gave Komer a deep understanding of the seas surrounding the Blue Continent.

In late autumn, the Nether Sea was relatively calm. Although Lome showed difficulty adapting on the first day, her astonishing adaptability shone through in the next two days. She was able to strum the harp with Komer on the swaying deck, even using air magic to pluck the strings now and then in hopes of discovering new functions for the harp, which left Komer with mixed feelings of amusement and frustration.

As the ship sailed further north, the color of the sea seemed to gradually lighten, turning from deep blue to azure. A series of faint, shadowy figures appeared on the northeast horizon, and a hazy coastline became visible to the northwest.

"Mr. Ress, we’re about to reach Odessa. To the northeast is Homer’s jewel in the Nether Sea—the Galapagos Archipelago. It’s a renowned fishing ground on the mainland, famous for its delicious trout. If you’re staying in Odessa tonight, you mustn’t miss the chance to taste it," Portalan strolled over and introduced the sights to Komer, who had been standing at the bow.

"Galapagos trout? Hmm, it’s been a long while since I’ve had it," Komer turned around with a slight smile. "I would like to invite Captain Portalan to have dinner together this evening and enjoy the Galapagos trout. Would Captain Portalan be interested?"

"It would be an honor to receive an invitation from Mr. Ress," Portalan said with a pleasant smile. "Has Mr. Ress ever tasted the trout here before?"

"Heh, I forgot to mention to Mr. Portalan that I am from Homer. Ress is my surname, and my first name is Komer," Komer nodded with a smile.

"Komer? Komer Ress? Baron Komer of Caucasus?" Portalan raised his eyebrows in surprise. He had sensed that the refined and well-spoken young man was extraordinary, but he never expected that he was actually Baron Komer, the Lord of Caucasus.

"Indeed, that’s me. What, does Mr. Portalan find it hard to believe?" Komer was satisfied with Portalan’s surprised yet composed demeanor. A man who could keep calm under any circumstance was truly worth befriending.

A curious expression appeared on Portalan’s face. The Lord of Caucasus was here on this ordinary passenger ship, en route to Odessa. His composed manner during yesterday’s inspection by the Homer Navy Fleet suggested that this lordship had quite the strategic depth.

"Somewhat unexpected, indeed. I hadn’t imagined Lordship might be here. Aren’t you afraid that Grand Duke Philip will arrest you?" Portalan said, finally breaking into a hearty laugh, his dense beard seemingly concealing much understanding.

"Arrest me? Who knows I am Komer? I’m just passing through Odessa; he won’t have that awareness," Komer shrugged, apparently unconcerned by the question. "He has many troubles to worry about. He might have complex feelings about me. I hope he finds his way out of his predicament. Let’s not talk about this tiresome man anymore. Mr. Portalan, would you be interested in joining me on a trip to the mainland southern area?"

Komer finally extended the invitation.

Portalan was a rare talent, especially his familiarity with the Mediterranean was akin to a living map. What Komer appreciated even more was his character, which matched his tastes, especially now that he seemed to be going through a rough patch.

Komer hoped to have someone help him when he returned from Java Swamp. From Rosenborg to Mattdam, and then across the Mediterranean to the Nether Sea, he needed someone to help him control the entire route, and Portalan seemed to be the perfect choice.

Although Komer didn’t know much about Portalan, he had an intuition that this man could bring him good fortune.

Portalan’s gaze fell upon Komer’s face, brimming with a question. But Komer seemed not to decipher the meaning in his eyes, calmly waiting instead.

"Lordship, may I be so bold as to ask, what do you need Portalan to do for you? Apart from sailing, I can’t do much else. On land, Portalan is nothing but a lazy drunk," the Whiskered man finally spoke, his words a tactful refusal.