Several days had passed since that dreadful battle on the Great Ocean.
The joint fleet of humans and High Elves had not been attacked again, thanks to Teclis casting a large concealment spell and altering their course. Though this would delay their arrival at Ulthuan by about a week, it greatly reduced the risk of another ambush. After some discussion, Ryan and the others agreed to Teclis' plan.
Meanwhile, due to the severe damage to the Phoenix ship, many High Elf soldiers were forced to take refuge on the Enterprise. This increased interactions between the two factions, which inevitably led to conflicts. Though the High Elves acknowledged Ryan and Fugen's strength, their prideful and aloof behavior often clashed with the equally stubborn dwarves, led by Little Thorgred. Several heated arguments broke out aboard the Enterprise and the Saint Sophia, though fortunately, no violence ensued.
Night had fallen. The Enterprise's steam boilers were still operating at full capacity, their rumbling filling the quiet night with noise. The Great Ocean remained turbulent as always, with the hot, salty sea breeze blowing over the ship.
Bertrand, the commander of the Old Guard, finished his duties for the day. He stroked his proud mustache as he headed to his quarters. The Enterprise was beautiful at night but also loud. Bertrand knew he had to learn to sleep despite the noise.
As he walked, Old Guard soldiers saluted him, and Bertrand politely returned their greetings. He had heard rumors that King Ryan might elevate him to the rank of baron, but Bertrand's attitude was that while he would be grateful if it happened, he wouldn't be disappointed if it didn't. After all, Bertrand had gone from being a bandit in the Châlons Forest to the commander of Ryan's personal Old Guard, marrying into a count's family. He was deeply thankful for his current life. Besides, Ryan had already granted him two villages as his fief and paid him an annual salary of 300 gold crowns, which was incredibly generous.
"Sir, good evening." On his way back to his quarters, Bertrand ran into Raymond, captain of the Old Guard's halberdiers, and his brother, Thomas, now an engineer who had studied in Nuln. The two brothers had come a long way—Raymond was now a legendary warrior with a knighthood, and Thomas was a well-respected engineer. Their good fortune often made others envious.
Although Bertrand and Davout had a somewhat strained relationship due to the latter "cutting in line" for promotion, Bertrand had accepted the Holy Grail system's unshakable hierarchy. He got along better with Raymond. Seeing the brothers had just finished their duties, Bertrand warmly invited them to dinner. "Have you eaten?"
"Not yet," Raymond replied with a faint smile. He wasn't handling the long sea voyage very well.
"Then come to my cabin. I've got some good food I can't finish on my own," Bertrand said cheerfully.
"Oh, that's really not necessary..." Raymond hesitated, knowing that meals on the Enterprise were rationed carefully. Even as a captain, his portions were only slightly larger than the standard issue.
"It's no trouble. Save your rations for tomorrow. I've got ice cream," Bertrand said with a grin.
Hearing the word "ice cream," Raymond licked his lips. On the Enterprise, ice cream was one of the most coveted treats.
As everyone knew, long sea voyages were often marked by not only the unbearable stench of filth, sickness, and decaying food but also a scarcity of fresh provisions. The typical diet consisted of biscuits, beans, bread, cheese, and salted meat. While the High Elves had taught humanity how to prevent scurvy by carrying some fruit, it was hard to keep food fresh for long.
Within a few weeks, the humid sea air would spoil the food, turning it moldy, maggot-infested, or even sprouting moss. The stored water would also go bad, turning green and smelling like a sewer. People had to mix it with alcohol just to make it drinkable.
"I swear, black larvae taste like chicken compared to those elephant beetles—those things taste like rotting dog manure," an old Bordeleaux sailor once remarked.
Fortunately, the Enterprise had prepared for everything. With the help of ice witches like Aurora and Theresa, the ship had cold storage to keep food fresh, while Veronica's light mages had developed a water purification system. The crew's food and water supplies were secure, but even so, ice cream was a rare luxury that everyone cherished. The small tin cups, filled with sweet, frozen goodness, were a welcome relief from the oppressive heat of the summer sea.
Bertrand's quarters were small, about eight square meters, but cozy. As the three men gathered, they shared a meal of buttered bread, pizza, sandwiches, fresh vegetables, fruit, lobster salad, steak, and, of course, the Old Guard's favorite—ice cream.
As they ate, their conversation inevitably turned to complaints. Raymond was the first to voice his frustration. "Ever since those elves came aboard, we haven't had a moment's peace. They're always finding something to criticize, always impatient. We've given them the best quarters, and they still complain it's too cramped."
"That's High Elves for you," Thomas said. Now a sturdy young man, his time studying in Nuln had broadened his horizons. After graduating with top honors, he had received job offers from Nuln's artillery school and its ironclad factory, but Thomas had remained loyal to Ryan, returning to work for the Musilon artillery factory. "They're arrogant, self-proclaimed nobles, but I'll admit, they're formidable in battle."
Ryan hadn't forgotten the students who returned. Thomas and the other graduates received the same pay as their counterparts in the Empire.
"Yeah, I know," Raymond said between bites of ice cream. "Their ship was in terrible shape; we didn't have much choice."
"The whole battle seemed strange," Bertrand said, wiping steak juice from his mustache. "Didn't you think the undead ambush was unusually fierce? First, the ghost fleet drew our fire, then the Drowned Fleet attacked from the other side, and finally, the Dark Elves' sea dragon struck from behind. They nearly had us."
"Right," Raymond agreed, still savoring his ice cream. "The only things they didn't count on were the strength of our ironclads and the fighting power of Ryan and Fugen."
"Exactly," Thomas chimed in, sounding proud. "Our ironclad's armor is made of meteoric iron and obsidian. There's no way the undead can break through it. They can keep coming—we'll just keep sinking them."
"Don't get cocky, Thomas," Bertrand warned. "We've used up half our cannonballs, and we've taken casualties—over a hundred dead, including the Cold Creek Guard, and many more wounded. If not for the High Elves' medicine, we would have lost even more to infection and gangrene. Soldiers' lives aren't just medals for you to brag about, engineer."
"Sorry," Thomas muttered, realizing his mistake.
Raymond quickly changed the subject. "So, Sir Bertrand, I've heard rumors. Is it true that King Ryan plans to make you a baron?"
Thomas perked up, clearly interested.
"Where did you hear that? If Ryan wants to grant me a title, I'll be grateful, but I doubt it. It's just people talking, wishing they'd get knighted after all the battles they've fought." Bertrand shook his head. "No, if anyone's going to be made a baron, it'll be Nicolas—Davout. He's a true son of Bastonne, blessed by the Lady. If that happens, I'll probably have to give up my post as commander of the Old Guard to him."
Raymond and Thomas fell silent, understanding that Davout's status as a Grail Knight made him untouchable. No one could challenge his place in Bretonnia's hierarchy.
The conversation became more somber after that. After finishing their meal, the brothers took their leave, though just before they left, Raymond felt an eerie sensation—like a primal, angry gaze had briefly swept through the room.
His attention shifted to the small statue of Taal behind Bertrand. The rustic effigy, made of antlers, oak, and animal hides, was where Bertrand often prayed to Taal, the god of nature and wild hunts. Yet when Raymond looked closer, the statue seemed to have lost all of its spiritual presence. Uneasy, he quickly said his goodbyes and left.
That night, as Bertrand drifted to sleep amidst the constant noise of the Enterprise, he dreamed.
In his dream, he found himself in a sacred place—a vast, ancient forest where towering trees reached hundreds of meters into the sky, their massive trunks blotting out the sun. There, a titanic figure, covered in fur and draped in animal skins, stood proudly. He wore a massive crown of antlers and held a large bow. The titan was hunting a legendary beast, the Chimera, a twisted creature of chaos with three heads—one spewing fire, another water, and the third poison. With a single arrow, the titan pierced the Chimera's heart.
Bertrand recognized the titan and immediately knelt, trembling with reverence as he tried to offer his respect.
"That wench thinks she can outdo me with her fancy Holy Grail?" The titan did not turn, but his voice boomed with raw fury and primal power. His presence was as grand as the winter sun. "I won't lose to anyone. That wen
ch may have her tricks, but I've got mine too!"
Before Bertrand could speak, the titan roared again, shaking the entire forest with his rage. "Enough! I won't lose to her, never! Whatever she can give, I can give as well!"
"Calm down, dear," a soft, soothing voice interrupted. A beautiful woman, dressed in a white silk gown, appeared at the titan's side. She was slightly plump, exuding motherly warmth. Her smile could heal any wounded heart, and her gentle words calmed the titan's rage. He finally turned to Bertrand's trembling soul and nodded approvingly.
Taking a knife, the titan cut a branch from the mighty god tree and pulled a sinew from the Chimera's corpse. He fashioned a powerful bow, blessing it with his divine power.
The woman smiled as well, adding her own blessing to the bow.
The titan threw the bow to Bertrand, along with a portion of his divine fire. "Good! I'll show that wench that my chosen won't lose to hers! Take it!"
"From this day forward, you are my champion! I grant you a new title—The Eye of Taal!"
Bertrand awoke with a start, drenched in sweat. His heart raced as he recalled every detail of the dream. It was no ordinary dream. The titan and the woman...
Was it really just a dream?
He realized his vision had improved dramatically. He could now see in the dark as if it were broad daylight! Even the tiniest scratch on the iron door, barely a millimeter long, was clear as day.
On the wall hung a magnificent bow, radiating the power of the Hunter God and the gentle, blue light of the Water Goddess. It wasn't his old bow. Bertrand leapt from bed and grabbed the bow, feeling the divine fire of nature roaring within him.
"It wasn't a dream," he whispered.
Tears filled his eyes as he knelt before the shrine.
"My lord... thank you!"
---
Meanwhile, in the royal suite aboard the Enterprise, a knock came at the door.
Teclis stood outside, leaning on the Staff of Lileath, waiting patiently.
A minute later, the door opened, and Olica, looking slightly disheveled in her maid uniform, glared at him. "What do you want?"
"I need to speak with Ryan. And you," Teclis replied coolly.
"Fine, come in," Olica said with a sigh. "I've got something to talk to you about too."
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