The Female Hunter-Duke pointed to a dense row of black ropes at the very bottom on both sides of the mainmast.
"The shrouds, used to support the mast from the sides and resist wind force."
Horatio blurted it out almost instantly.
Farida blinked, quickly opened her book, and flipped through it to check.
"God Emperor, he actually got it right?!" Farida found it incredibly baffling.
Horatio, with a half-smile, added:
"Because once these ropes are set up, they won't move again, so they are coated with pine tar or pitch to increase durability."
"I personally rigged these sails on a sailing training ship."
"…It must be a coincidence! What about this?!" Farida panicked, her aristocratic arrogance forcing her to continue being stubborn.
Her slender finger pointed to the ropes holding up the yardarm.
"These are the halyards, please see."
Horatio gently pulled the rope, making the sailing yardarm float up and down.
Farida was speechless, and after a long while, she asked, "How do you know all this?"
"It's not important, Miss Hood, I only care about what the reward is." Horatio's face was beaming with a triumphant smile.
"Tsk, what do you want… Don't be too excessive."
"Your gloves."
"Huh???"
Farida's cheeks instantly turned rosy, like ripe apples.
"You… you know what you're… what you're saying! You hooligan!"
"Huh? It's just gloves, why are you so agitated?" Horatio looked at Farida strangely.
He only wanted the gloves so he wouldn't leave fingerprints, lest any clues be discovered.
The girl hesitated, stood still and twisted for a while, and finally, very reluctantly, took off her lace-trimmed silk gloves and handed them to him.
The moment he took the gloves, still warm, Horatio vaguely recalled a saying:
'In the Victorian era, asking for an unmarried woman's silk gloves was, in essence, no different from asking for her original silk stockings taken off her leg.'
"I can understand it, after all, people's XPs are broad; some like legs, some like hands. Directly asking for a girl's silk gloves to wear on one's hand would be hard not to be misunderstood."
"Ahem, don't misunderstand, I just don't want to leave fingerprints."
Horatio, feigning composure, put on the silk gloves, which still retained the girl's warmth, though they only covered half of his palm.
To avoid leaving fingerprints, he had to make do.
However, Farida looked at him with an expression of a pervert the entire time.
The remaining five hundred meters of the journey felt like an ordeal, a silent trek, constantly under a strange gaze, until he finally followed Farida to her father's study, where he breathed a sigh of relief.
"Is this your first time in?"
"Yes."
Farida nervously looked around: "I have my own study. My father's study is also his office, and it contains many Imperial Navy top-secret documents, so don't mess around in there, otherwise, no matter where you are, he will find you and gouge out your eyes."
"That's terrifying…" Through the various negative descriptions of this Captain, Horatio developed a deep reverence for him even before meeting him.
"Everyone knows he's a Lord Captain, but few know that my father has been promoted to the principal officer of the Gothic Fleet Military Intelligence Headquarters, with the rank of Rear Admiral."
A Red Flag Rear Admiral of the Gothic Fleet Military Intelligence Headquarters?
Horatio's eyes widened. As a member of the Coast Guard in his previous life, having systematically studied naval history, he knew the meaning embedded in this title today.
The Imperial Navy, a creation of a bunch of Nottingham Englishmen, has a naval structure highly similar to that of the British Royal Navy during the age of sail.
A combat fleet is usually led by a Navy Admiral, a Navy Lieutenant General, and a Rear Admiral, divided into three parts.
Among them, the vanguard fleet, which charges at the forefront, flies a red ensign at its stern, symbolizing offense and fierce battle. This position is usually held by a Navy Lieutenant General, and only those who have survived the near-death experiences of vanguard operations are qualified to be promoted to Navy Admiral.
This fleet is typically composed of fast capital ships supported by multiple frigate squadrons.
Commanders like Captain Alexander Hood, who are exceptionally brave in combat but are held back from promotion due to age and seniority, are also allowed to serve as Vanguard Fleet Commanders and are honorifically referred to as Red Flag Rear Admirals.
The main fleet, or battle fleet, is usually commanded by a Navy Admiral, flying a sacred white ensign at its stern. It is the crucial force that determines the outcome of the entire naval battle, and therefore must be led by the most experienced Navy Admiral.
The largest, strongest, and most dominant battlecruisers in the entire fleet are commanded within the main fleet.
At the same time, due to the high casualty rate of Navy Lieutenant Generals under the Imperial Navy's aggressive tactics of ramming, torpedoing, and boarding, there is a scarcity of suitably qualified Navy Admirals. Not every active fleet can be equipped with a Navy Admiral, and exceptionally talented Navy Lieutenant Generals can also be selected to serve as White Flag Fleet Commanders, honorifically referred to as White Flag Navy Lieutenant Generals.
Captain Samuel Hood of the Hood Family is currently a White Flag Navy Lieutenant General.
Finally, there is the Rear Guard Fleet, responsible for support and serving as a reserve fleet, commanded only by a Rear Admiral, flying a blue ensign. Typically, this fleet only contains high-maneuverability battlecruisers and is not as strong as the vanguard and main fleets.
This fleet is responsible for sweeping the void battlefield and pursuing fleeing ships. If the battle becomes so bogged down that it needs to join the front line, it indicates that the conflict is already quite brutal.
Warships, being out at sea for extended periods, also need to return to port for repairs and resupply, a relatively lengthy process, ranging from a few months to several decades.
During this time, returning officers would be assigned to functional departments within the Navy Department, or sent to naval correctional facilities on planets to serve as tribunes (for general officers) or plebeian tribunes (for lieutenants).
Since Farida's father is currently serving as the principal officer of the Gothic Fleet Military Intelligence Headquarters, it means he won't be sailing for a while. If I leave any clues here, and I get charged with stealing fleet secrets, then truly, no one but the God Emperor himself could save me.
Farida pushed open the intricately carved mahogany door, and the light from the hallway illuminated a sliver of the dim study.
Since Farida herself had never been inside, she fumbled for a while to find the light switch.
Just as she reached out to press it, Horatio stopped her.
"Don't move!" Ever since Horatio activated his Machine Soul Affinity, he had a subtle, indistinct feeling about machine souls.
Logically, the machine soul of a light switch shouldn't be so irritable and impulsive… unless.
Horatio flicked a nearby switch with a more languid machine soul, and the large chandelier in the study lit up.
"This might be a trap designed to confuse intruders." Horatio observed the row of switches.
Farida wisely let go of her hand, but her expression was nonchalant: "I've already turned off the power to the security measures."
"How can you guarantee your father's study doesn't have an independent power supply?" Horatio raised an eyebrow.
"…" Farida was speechless, she pouted, her face puffed up with annoyance.
"Tsk, what an annoying guy, acting like he knows my home better than I do."
Horatio let out a long, awestruck breath.
"This study… it's so big, it's simply a man's paradise." Horatio couldn't help but exclaim.
The room was meticulously organized. To the east were the desk and filing cabinets, and to the west were dozens of mahogany bookshelves filled with books, making it feel like a library.
Upon closer inspection, this was truly a man's private paradise. Behind the large desk, wall-high cabinets displayed various warship models, including even three-masted sailing battlecruisers. In addition, there were countless models of various aircraft, tanks, knights, and titans.
On the neatly arranged table, there was also an unpainted Retribution-class Battleship.
"I didn't expect your father to be a model enthusiast."
"Model enthusiast…?"
"Emmmm, just understand it as a model hobbyist." Horatio had never met this Lord Captain, and this scene made him somewhat question the rumors about him.
How could a crazy, irritable old man patiently outline warship paint schemes with a brush?
Uh… but maybe he can only calm down at times like this.
As he pondered, an open thick ledger on the table caught Horatio's attention. The quill pen was not in its stand but casually stuck in the inkwell, clearly indicating it had been left mid-sentence due to an urgent matter.
"Should I take a look before looking for clues? No, I should look for clues related to the ring first." The desire to confirm his identity was fiercely battling with his curiosity.
"What if that is the clue?"
Horatio glanced at the Female Hunter-Duke. Although she said she would keep an eye on him, upon entering her father's study for the first time, she was already looking around the bookshelf area, just like a child curious about the adult world. Although this tall and sturdy woman could hardly be called a child anymore.
Horatio moistened his throat with saliva. Curiosity ultimately triumphed over what he should be doing, and he stealthily crept over.
'The Imperial Department of Legal Affairs has abandoned the investigation of the accident eight years ago. The special task force has been disbanded. I was so close to the truth, yet I had to abandon the existing investigation results. Teresa, what should I do? How can I avenge you? I swear on my life, this matter will not end.'
'I used almost all my connections and finally persuaded the Fleet Commander. After a meeting of the Navy Department's personnel committee, it was decided to appoint me as the principal officer of the Gothic Fleet Military Intelligence Headquarters, which means I can use my authority to continue investigating the truth of this matter. This is truly good news! Teresa, I will uncover all the truth. I will catch those vermin hiding in the darkness one by one and hang them with my own hands! To comfort your spirit in heaven.'
'Teresa, that guy's case might actually become the key for me to unlock the door to the truth.'
'Sorry, Teresa, the Navy Department has assigned me and Navy Lieutenant General John Bin to plan a special operation for the Navy to control the entire 'Vegas' sector. I have to temporarily suspend the investigation. But I am very happy, this was your most proud achievement back then, and now, I finally have the opportunity to continue building your dream.'
Horatio gasped, damn! This was the personal diary of the Fleet Military Intelligence Commander!
The handwriting on it was quite neat, clearly written by a cultured person, but some parts were blurred by water. However, Horatio preferred to believe it was tears.
"Hiss, who is 'that guy' again? I can't stop, let me look again…"
Horatio was both worried and unable to stop his surging curiosity, so he used his gloved fingers to pinch the page and flip backward.