Searching For Andromeda 97 Taken

"The sea sure is calm," says Borgh.

"Heeh, maybe we'll arrive at Patriargë in less than 15 hours?" Samuel said, turning to Borgh—who, again, approached the two of them.

The sea was indeed tranquil and devoid of any other discrepancies. The breeze of the sea currents was steadily swaying Samuel's platinum-blond locks, which gleamed against the sun that was high in the sky.

The carrack had compartments and rooms provided for Samuel and Ephraim. They had chosen to sleep on the hammocks, which should sway about the sea as it sails the ocean. Though they could have chosen the room that had double-decker beds, Sam and Ephraim thought that hammocks should provide just the same feeling of comfort.

OR it was because they haven't tried to sleep on a hammock inside a wooden, sailing s.h.i.+p. Boats on Earth were as advanced as they can be—there was no way they could have experienced such a once in a lifetime type of happenstance again.

Redundant, Ephraim thought. They were already experiencing once in a lifetime type of event. Who in the world thought as an Archaeologist, he'd actually experience riding 14th to 17th-century carracks? Ephraim had only seen them in textbooks, and often appeared in the stories of old.

In the s.h.i.+p's most advanced forms, they were used by the Portuguese for trade between Europe and Asia beginning in the late 15th century, before eventually being supplanted in the 17th century by the galleon—which is large, multi-decked sailing s.h.i.+ps ultimately used as armed cargo by states in Europe ranging between the 16th and 18th century during the age of sail and were the princ.i.p.al escapee units for use as wars.h.i.+ps.

Ephraim was such a nerd for these types of things. On the majority of the duration of the sail, Ephraim was talking to Captain Borgh about the particulars of the carrack, taking every possible note he could. It took them several hours as well before Samuel gave up on listening to what he said as 'adult lame talks' and went to unwind.

"Since you're the dungeon conqueror, I was thinking of you being more of a battle freak and more interested in things such as blades and dismantling some enemies," Borgh joked, "but it's surprising you even fable to talk about merchant s.h.i.+ps as well. You're truly a wonder, lad!"

'Lad,' Ephraim repeated in his thoughts. That was a good thing. At least he wasn't called the awkward term 'dungeon conqueror' now.

"I'm very much surprised—a pleasant surprise, really—that you know so much about a carraca," said Borgh. "Many would often know carraca as a s.h.i.+p that was inferior to other wars.h.i.+p vessels because it's only meant to transport goods, but it's such a beauty. Its design encompa.s.ses AND surpa.s.ses any other sails. Don't you agree, Lad?"

Ephraim nodded. "That's right. It's my first time seeing one,"

"Oh? It's your first time!"

Shoot. "What I meant it—"

"Then it's an honor to have you, a conqueror, to provide you the first carraca to board."

Carraca—a Portuguese term for carrack s.h.i.+ps. Ephraim's slightly frazzled expression gradually softened. "Then I'm glad to be here."

"Still . . ." Borgh said. "Your sword is a mighty different level from any other blade I've seen. But don't misunderstand—I'm neither a blacksmith nor an expert in combat. I just have this dagger in my belt for self-defense,"

Ephraim nodded thoughtfully as Borgh showed him the dagger strapped in his belt under his overcoat.

"Is it the rumored vessel?"

"It's not," Ephraim answered. "The vessel is kind of like . . . not a physical form."

"Ooh, is that so? Your vessel must be special, then."

"Special?"

"You see, Wahid's Vessel—or the Tome of Knowledge—is usually a weapon in itself. Usually, they are glaives, rapiers, bow and arrows, s.h.i.+elds, et cetera. They always take a manifestation of a physical weapon that is conquered by an adventurer, a warrior—" Borgh exclaimed, depicting his articulations with hand gestures. "I always hear rumors about some conqueror being unable to use the vessels because it is not their weapons of choice."

"Not their weapon of choice?"

"For example, they would often get a rapier when they're more skilled in long-ranged attacks," Borgh said. "But of course, these are all tell-tales. I don't know much. Hha,"

Ephraim caressed his chin. Then, if it's like that, how is it that he got something different.

"Um . . . Is there a case when there's just, let's say, fire—a sheer fire that acts as the tome of knowledge? Not any weapon; just fire?"

"Hmm," Borgh speculated with his eyes narrowing. "I'm not sure there is . . . Ah! I remember. There's this legend about the first king of Feyfrost conquering the dungeon of the water deity. The story didn't specify what kind of weapon the water deity was, so many just a.s.sumed whatever they see fit."

"Water deity?"

"You really don't know anything, don't you, Lad?"

"I—uh,"

"Just kidding! You're still a sprout, a youngling that rose from the ground. So I know you tend to dismiss the history in pursuit of the present,"

Of course, it wasn't true. And it hurt Ephraim's feelings greatly. He was an Archaeologist. He was meant to excavate and uncover things from history itself. From legends and myths alike. This man telling him he didn't give regard to the very thing he had dedicated his whole life with made Ephraim's brow twitch.

But there's no use crying over something as trivial as this. After all . . .

"You shouldn't tell people that you're both from another world." Guildmaster Shey said.

"Huh? Why?" Sam scowled. "Wouldn't that be stu—"

Ephraim's gloved hand covered Samuel's mouth. "Is there a problem in having people know we're really not from here?"

"You see, the Boundary Crossers are very peculiar and mysterious people. They appeared several years ago in Sembilica and then from their first appearance evoked plagues, wars, and the most fatal blow to Patriargë."

"The most fatal blow to Patriargë? What did they do?"

"I do not have knowledge over what they did since they are surrounded by a dark mist of unknown mystery." Said Shey. "But they were said to be the ones who delivered Patriargë to its lowest low . . ."

"They're very much antagonized," Samuel said after he removed Ephraim's hand on his mouth.

"Yes—which is why I would prefer it if you two would keep your real ident.i.ties a secret. You can go around the world to tell people that you are from Alaris and orphans Shey Ramgold adopted. Although it won't eliminate the suspicion entirely, it would at least provide a good cover for the two of you."

**

Samuel listened to their boring discussion about s.h.i.+ps and whatnots. He did not study anything like a carrack part whatsoever. Aside from the fact that the famous Cristopher Columbus rode the carrack he made—Santa María—in his voyage at 1492 and the carrack Victoria, which is the first s.h.i.+p to circ.u.mnavigate the globe from 1519 to 1522 (which is the only s.h.i.+p that survived on Magellan's expeditions)—Samuel pretty much knew nothing more.

He discovered these random trivia by chance when he was browsing through the internet. And being Samuel Albrecht, the smartest human alive (claimed by him also), there's a hundred percent chance it'll stay in his mind for as long as he would live.

"Mainsails, forecastle, sterns—what the h.e.l.l," Samuel mumbled. He sat on one of the wooden barrels as he fixated his electric-blue eyes to the similar-colored sky. The clouds were looking thicker and plumper at sea, as it seems.

Sam expected the journey to be about 6-8 hours, considering Alaris and Patriargë seemed to be too close to each other.

Samuel sighed.

He's really here.

"That president is really fuc—" Samuel blinked, "what's that?" Samuel jumped away from the barrel, his shoe creating a creaking sound to the planks of the s.h.i.+p's floorboards. His gaze was still lifted up to the skies, with his electric-blue eyes pinned to a gleaming star in the horizon.

"UFO?"

But no, it wasn't any UFO.

**

Ephraim and Captain Borgh talked so much for hours that they noticed it was already sunset. At this point in time, Ephraim noticed that he hasn't seen Samuel come back at least to check on them. Was he that bored and he didn't want to really involve himself with their adult talk?

"Aah, that's very refres.h.i.+ng. Feels like I became a teacher," Borgh said as he stretched.

"Thank you, Borgh. I learned a lot." Ephraim flashed his usual smile. He used the opportunity earlier to inquire more about the dungeons and Andromeda whilst slipping the topic about the Boundary Crossers from Sembilica bit by bit in the guise of being a curious young man.

"Anytime. It's been a while I talked about these things. And especially to the dungeon conqueror. It's an honor, really." Borgh exclaimed. "Now then. My crew's done cooking dinner by this time. I'm sure you're hungry now, considering we only had some snacks for lunch?"

"Yes, I apologize about that," Ephraim said.

"No, no! It's very much alright. I really enjoyed talking, Conqueror!" The captain beamed. "Now then. I'll go to the crew while you go fetch Samuel up for dinner? Dusk is approaching quite quickly, I daresay!"

Ephraim nodded. "Alright, thank you, Borgh."

After getting out of the Captain's cabin, Ephraim set out to search for Samuel.

"Sam. Dinner!" He called. "Sam?"

Ephraim's eyes widened as he beholds the spectacle—

Amidst the dismantled barrels was a wet, blue overcoat that soaked the planks' darker brown. Ephraim knelt to the overcoat and then sees the red stains etched on its dampened fabric.

"What happened?!" It was Borgh, who now came rus.h.i.+ng to Raim along with his crew.

"Samuel . . ." Ephraim tightened his grip around the overcoat.

"—Isn't gone!" From the sky, a voice yelled out loud: "But you, ALL OF YOU, should vanish without a trace!"

Before anyone could react, the one with the source of the voice landed straight to their s.h.i.+p, with his hook directly supporting his fall.

"I am Jaxon Sparrows, the Captain of Sunken Pirates—" A boy, no older than Samuel, said. His dark and empty fish-like eyes directly looking at Ephraim. "And I am here to kill you all." He said as he licked the hook that served as a replacement on his other hand.

"Now, my minions . . . ATTACK!!!!"

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