Deep Sea Embers

Plane, southeast docks, a beautiful white steam turbine ship is undergoing its final readiness inspection.

After a long berth, the White Oak is finally ready to set off again. This time, it will carry many entrusted items from the city-state of Pland, pass through the central route and the northern route, all the way north, passing through the cold Hong Kong until the frost.

It's not a short voyage, but for a specially modified explorer ship designed for quick trips to and from the oceans, the route, mostly in safe waters, is not much of a challenge—powerful steam The core will ensure the surging power of the ship, and the newly renovated shipboard church is also sufficient to protect the safety of all crew members.

The busy sailors on shore and on board all looked quite relaxed.

In the machinery cabin at the tail of the White Oak, the chief engineer and assistant mechanics are supervising the sailors to complete the final preparations for the steam core.

This powerful machine is as large as a house and is fixed to the main support structure of the hull by a strong steel frame. It consists of three spherical containers arranged longitudinally and a series of complex pipes and valves around the containers. Composed with the linkage device, there is another iron suspension bridge suspended on the half waist of the three containers, which is used for sailors to check the operation of the steam core and perform necessary maintenance work.

At this moment, several sailors were busy on the iron suspension bridge. They opened the heavy hatch of the spherical container, took out a few worn-out dull metal rods inside, and took out a few forearm-thick, nearly The one-meter-long pale golden metal rods were fixed on the slots inside the hatch, and the mechanism was activated to send those metal rods into the center of the container.

That is the catalytic medium made of boiling gold. They are the source of the powerful power of the steam core and one of the important guarantees for the stable operation of the machine. Just like the priest's prayer and incense ceremony near the steam pipe, the boiling gold in the steam core The medium can also resist the invasion of some malicious forces to a certain extent, preventing the machine from being suddenly "evil" after a long period of operation.

The creaking sound of the pulley blocks and hinges continued to be heard, and two sailors seemed to be a little rough in their operations, and the burly bald chief engineer suddenly shouted: "Be careful! Don't damage those boiling gold catalysts, then The thing is as soft as a breadstick, and if you break one, the captain will eat you!"

"If you mean the bread sticks baked by Chef Finley—then you should worry about the chute and tenon in the steam core not being damaged!" The sailor on the drawbridge laughed, but at the same time Still let the action be careful.

"When it's frosty, I have to suggest to the captain to buy a batch of high-quality boiling gold catalysts from the local area - the boiling gold there is as cheap as the stones on the ground," the assistant mechanic muttered to the side. A ten-year-old woman, her arms are as strong and powerful as a man's, and the work clothes on her body are stained with oil. "The procurement channels of the Adventurer's Association are too dark."

"That depends on whether the client and the Church agree." The chief engineer shrugged, "Half of the warehouses on the White Oak are special 'seal rooms', and many of the things we shipped this time were ordered by the Church. Raw materials and semi-finished products of sacred objects, these things are very sensitive, and there must be a strict list of supplies sent to the ship. Before the Gray Crow, a bastard brought a barrel of mead on board without permission, which caused the ship to be destroyed. The seals of the ship were loose, and two shadows ran out and killed half the ship's people..."

"I know, so I'll just give the captain a suggestion." The assistant mechanic waved his hand, then frowned slightly, "But speaking of it, the captain doesn't seem to be here yet—he's usually not late."

"The captain will come," said the chief engineer, and then, after a pause, repeated as if for emphasis, "the captain will come—he's not retired yet."

...

"You really should retire," said the wife, leaning against the door frame next to her with her arms folded, looking at this side with an unkind expression, her eyes as sharp as back then, "don't wait until I get on the boat and grab your ears, then you will realize that you are how serious the situation is.”

Lawrence didn't respond, he just silently adjusted his captain's uniform in front of the mirror, checked his meticulously combed hair, solemnly picked up the hat that was placed beside him, put it on his head, and then relaxed slightly. tone.

"Thank you, Martha, but it's time for me to go," said the old captain in a low voice. "The White Oak is waiting in port."

His wife watched him quietly, without violent words, without chattering complaints, only long staring, and silence.

After an unknown amount of time, she sighed softly: "Okay, then be safe and come back early—don't run into any messy things again."

"I hope." Lawrence sighed helplessly, and turned away from the mirror.

"Did you take everything with you?"

"Bring them all."

"Where are the keys at home and the talisman for going out?"

"I have them all with me, I haven't forgotten."

"Take a little prayer-book with you, it will do you good."

"I have it too," Lawrence bent down and picked up the small suitcase at the door and patted it. "There are also a few pages of handwritten prayers and the sacred candles from the cathedral."

His wife opened her mouth, as if she wanted to say something else, but Lawrence turned around with a smile on his face: "I've got them all, and I'm not too old to forget about them."

The wife was silent for a while, and exhaled softly: "Your medicine."

Lawrence's movements froze and stopped.

"Don't forget your medicine." The wife repeated.

Lawrence's lips trembled slightly, and his eyes moved to the side little by little.

On the small table at the door, a small brown glass bottle was quietly placed there. The sunlight shone on the bottle, and the clear texture of the liquid in the bottle could be vaguely seen.

After a long silence, Lawrence picked up the bottle of potion, and it took several seconds before he opened the small cork.

He looked up at Martha and saw his wife still leaning against the door frame, looking at him with her arms folded, just as he remembered.

"Bon trip." She mouthed.

"I'm going out." Lawrence responded softly, and then followed the psychiatrist's instructions, dripping a few drops of the medicine into his mouth.

The strong taste dissipated in the mouth, and the figure of his wife quietly dissipated in the sunlight.

Lawrence silently plugged the lid of the medicine bottle, opened the small suitcase, and put the remaining medicine in a corner where it would not be bumped. He muttered while arranging things: "That psychiatrist is fooling people... this thing The son is bitter to death, how can there be any herbal aroma."

The old captain who had been wandering in the boundless sea for half his life packed up his belongings, sighed softly, picked up his suitcase, and left the house.

...

After finishing the day's work, Heidi finally returned home before evening. She pushed open the door, took off her coat, and the first thing she did after entering the living room was to slump on a chair in a very inconspicuous way, deeply Sighed.

The mother was sitting by the warm fireplace and sorting out a few letters. When she heard her daughter coming home, she turned her head slightly: "Young girl, pay attention to your image - ladies don't do this."

"Let the lady rest, the lady is dealing with weird and bizarre nightmares and nonsense sailors today," Heidi slumped on the chair and waved her hands weakly, "There is a mechanical failure on a ship in the boundless sea. It took almost twice as long to stay in the open sea, and several sailors were taken off the ship by being tied up—it was a disaster."

Speaking of this, she exhaled, shook her head and sighed: "It's really not easy to make a living on the boundless sea."

The mother raised her head from the letter: "It sounds really bad, so you can't be paralyzed like this. Hurry up and take a bath upstairs to relieve yourself first. The bath water is already boiled."

"Well, it's true," Heidi curled her lips, and finally got up from the chair vigorously. She walked towards the stairs, but suddenly stopped curiously, "These letters are..."

"Water bills, electricity bills, gas, all kinds of bills—all kinds of messy things," my mother said casually, her tone indifferent, "It was all handled by your father in the past, but now that he happens to be out, I will take care of it."

"Well, I don't want to deal with these things." Heidi waved her hands as she spoke, and walked upstairs.

The mother quietly watched her daughter go upstairs, and then she looked away, scanning the letters in front of her.

Much of it is indeed bills.

But there were two more genuine letters—one of them, from places the world could hardly imagine.

It was a letter from Maurice, delivered this afternoon by a courier covered in green flames.

The letter has a special incantation of the God of Wisdom to prevent outsiders from seeing its true content.

The old woman looked at the familiar writing on it with a smile:

"...I am heading towards Frost, and there is not much scenery to see along the way, only the small pieces of ice floes occasionally seen on the sea and the cold fog in the distance are quite interesting...

"...Nina was doing homework for the winter vacation in the dining room today, and a strange shadow ran out of her textbook, everyone beat it up, it was very lively...

"...the captain went fishing again before lunch, you know, that kind of 'fish' - it struggled very violently this time, it was a thrilling scene, the captain said that the fish tasted better when it was alive, but in fact I can't taste the difference..."

The old woman smiled, put the letter aside for the time being, and picked up another letter that had just been opened.

This letter came from Frost.

The sender was Brown Scott.