Lord of Mysteries 2: Circle of Inevitability

Amidst the billowing smoke, the Flying Bird cut through the Fog Sea, heading west towards the Intis colony in the Fog Sea Archipelago. They were the same islands in the saying, “never trust an Islander.” From there, it would journey south to Port Santa, northwest of the Feynapotter Kingdom.

Though the Fog Sea was notorious for its heavy fog, the offshore areas were less affected. Lumian spent the next three hours under the bright sun, immersed in a book—an introductory textbook for the Feynapotter Kingdom’s Highlander language. While he had Lugano, his translator and guide, Lumian didn’t want to be completely reliant on him for information and communication. If anything happened to Lugano, or if he were to deliberately manipulate translations, Lumian would be vulnerable.

Mastering some basic Highlander phrases before reaching Port Santa would allow Lumian to verify the accuracy of translations and give him some independence.

Typically, learning Highlander in less than ten days was nearly impossible for Beyonders not from the Reader pathway. However, Lumian had a significant advantage: his knowledge of ancient Feysac, the original language from which Highlander evolved. The two languages shared many similarities in sentence structure, meaning, grammar, and word structure, allowing Lumian to learn Highlander much faster.

“When can dinner be delivered?” Ludwig paced restlessly in front of Lumian’s recliner, frustrated that the exclusive attendant hadn’t yet arrived with dinner, despite the darkening sky.

Lumian closed his book as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows illuminated by the kerosene lamp. With a chuckle, he said, “Blame yourself for ordering so much. They need time to cook it all. Thankfully, the first-class cabin has an independent kitchen, otherwise they’d be overwhelmed…”

Before he could finish, the doorbell rang.

As the chimes reverberated, Lugano opened the thick vermilion door to find the young attendant pushing a dining cart into the room, its surface covered in a thick yellowish-brown carpet.

Under Ludwig’s eager gaze, the attendant calmly laid out the tablecloth and utensils.

“This is a local delicacy, Gati herring. It involves marinating smoked soft herring filets, onions, and carrot slices in olive oil, thyme, bay leaves, and other spices for 24 to 48 hours. It’s perfect with warm potato salad.”

“And these are deep-fried fries. In Upper Coastal Province, there’s a saying: without fries, there’s no heaven…

“There’s also raisin cream bread…

“These are fresh oysters and shellfish…

“This is Faust turkey, ham and mushroom burrito. This is Umu’s duck minced meat and coarse brown sugar vanilla waffle…

“This is traditional orange cheese… and there’s also a pungent gray cheese. Would you like to give it a try?

“This is Upper Coastal Province’s favorite apple cider[1]…”

Lumian listened with genuine interest as the attendant described each dish. He noticed that, despite his impatience, Ludwig didn’t immediately attack his food. Instead, he waited patiently until the attendant finished before sampling the pre-meal bread and savoring the pickled herring.

Did something awaken in him? Lumian glanced at the child in confusion.

“Not bad,” Ludwig remarked with a professional air. “The smoky taste is just right. It blends perfectly with the fragrance and seasoning…”

Despite his praise, seven-year-old Lumian couldn’t help but find the whole scene with Ludwig’s chubby, youthful face and serious demeanor comical.

Port Gati, being near the sea, boasted excellent seafood. The oysters and other shellfish were not only tastier than most restaurants in Trier, but also considerably cheaper. Lumian sipped his brewed apple cider, enjoying the unique local flavors.

With Ludwig’s impressive appetite, the eight-person dinner soon ended, leaving only clean plates and bones behind.

Lumian and Lugano, despite not being small eaters themselves, found themselves dwarfed by Ludwig’s consumption despite eating two servings each. This was especially impressive considering he’d already devoured afternoon tea and dessert earlier.

I don’t see you visiting the washroom often… Where does all the food go? Do you have a bottomless pit for a stomach? Lumian mused, sizing Ludwig up. He stood up and turned to Lugano.

“I’m feeling for a drink. Want to join me at the ship’s bar?”

“I didn’t catch a wink last night. Planned to hit the hay early today.” Lugano couldn’t wrap his head around his employer’s boundless energy. Despite a sleepless night and a full day of travel, Lumian buzzed with life, ready to hit the bar.

Could it be because his Sequence is higher?

The kid with the odd appetite looks pretty charged too…

Lumian didn’t extend an invite to the translator. After leaving a late-night snack for Ludwig, he swapped into a plain dark brown jacket and left the room, heading for the first-class bar.

The bar oozed elegance, filled with the soft tunes of a small band. Sparse patrons scattered around, soaking in the quiet atmosphere.

Lumian scanned the scene for a moment from the entrance, then shook his head and exited.

He descended the stairs to the deck, slipping into the bar serving third-class cabins and the regular crew.

A chaos of noise—shouts, cheers, claps, and random singing—saturated the air, echoing around Lumian.

He instantly felt a sense of homecoming. A wave of ease washed over him, and every cell in his body kicked up a notch.

That’s more like it… A seasoned regular at the Ol’ Tavern from a young age, Lumian swayed a bit as he edged up to the bar counter.

“A glass of La Fée Verte.” He thumped the wooden surface.

The bartender, a young man with Feynapotter features, greeted Lumian. His face was slim, adorned with black hair, eyes, and distinct contours. His slightly yellowish skin highlighted his appealing facial features.

“Alright, 10 licks,” the bartender replied in Intisian, his foreign accent apparent.

The ship’s prices trumps even those in Trier… As Lumian counted out the coins, he noticed the bartender divert his attention and engage with sincerity and enthusiasm.

“Madame, what would you like to drink?”

“A glass of cherry wine,” a lady in a thick yellow dress responded, showcasing a pretty face and light green eyes.

“Alright!” The bartender, not seeking payment upfront, prepared to serve the lady.

“I was here first,” Lumian reminded the bartender with a smile.

Without hesitation, the bartender replied, “This is such a beautiful and dazzling lady. My heart tells me to serve her first.”

Oh, he’s truly from Feynapotter… Lumian didn’t get upset. Instead, it felt like he was watching a circus act.

Feynapotterians, with their romantic nature and relentless pursuit of love, placed their faith in Earth Mother, emphasizing the importance of women. Men in this kingdom would praise any woman they encountered, openly pursuing those they fancied.

Aurore had once mentioned that Feynapotter’s men were masters of country romance. Despite their mushiness and overt sincerity, they didn’t come off as cheesy; rather, they exuded a different kind of elegance.

In comparison, the romantic Intisians seemed lacking.

However, influenced by tradition and faith, most Feynapotterians placed great importance on family, reproduction, and children, preferring settled family lives. Unless entering marriage without coercion, they were akin to the conservative Loenese, finding it challenging to accept extramarital affairs.

While exceptions existed, even in the most conservative Loen Kingdom, the prevalence of adultery wasn’t as exaggerated or common as in Intis. Many believed that love didn’t necessarily thrive within the confines of marriage.

After the lady settled her tab and departed with the cherry wine, the bartender served Lumian La Fée Verte, garnishing it with a mint leaf.

He remarked without a trace of guilt, “My grandmother always said to give special treatment to every lady, especially the beautiful ones.”

“I get it.” Lumian slipped back into his role as a regular at Ol’ Tavern. Sipping his absinthe, he concocted a tale. “I once had numerous beautiful companions, even more stunning than the last lady. Unfortunately, being just one person, I couldn’t marry them all simultaneously…”

The bartender suddenly felt a camaraderie.

“I often feel the same regrets. There are too many beautiful women in this world, and I’m just one person.”

“What’s your name?”

“Louis, just call me Louis.” Lumian provided his alias.

His current identity was Louis Berry.

“I’m Francesco,” the bartender shared with Lumian.

The familiar setting, the customary boasting, and the vibrant ambiance left Lumian feeling a bit tipsy, despite not imbibing much.

If not for the mysticism catastrophe, if Aurore were still alive, if he’d already entered university with no other concerns, wouldn’t it be nice to just unwind at a bar?

Sea travelers couldn’t help but discuss pirates. Bartender Francesco informed Lumian, “With the widespread use of ironclad warship technology on merchant vessels, it’s become tough for pirates. Their sailboats can’t match these iron-skinned monsters cruising at 16 to 17 knots. They can’t plunder them even if they tried!”

Lowering his voice, Francesco continued, “Pirates’ go-to strategy now is sending individuals disguised as passengers to board ships from different ports. Once they hit a designated area in the sea, they create internal chaos, gaining initial control and allowing a nearby pirate ship to close in.”

“Is that so?” Lumian inquired with interest. “Any guesses on who might be an undercover pirate on this ship?”

Francesco was taken aback.

“It’s just the first day. How can I tell?”

Lumian smiled, teasing, “Ever been through something like this before?”

[1] From “Le Tour De France Gourmand”