Angor was heading to Pompei Alley while still thinking about the Tree of Blessing he just saw.
From what he found so far, all of Lucas’ stories and claims seemed similar to prophecies. Prophecies that came true in a very weird way.
It wasn’t surprising if Lucas was actually a talented Prophet or someone with a similar ability. There were many groups of people in this world born with special traits such as the Phantom Servants. The “Void Shift” used by Hobbiton, which could be seen as a temporary invincibility effect, was quite handy.
Ordinary humans could receive such gifts as well. One example was “Dripping River the Sleeper”, who knew how to manipulate the properties of water before becoming an apprentice.
As there were countless creatures in this world with supernatural abilities, wizards usually didn’t pay much attention to them.
So why would so many powerful wizards, including truth-finders, go after Lucas? Prophets weren’t exactly rare in the wizarding world.
Unless Lucas foretold something that concerned Song of the Deep and Summerdew Ridge, or…
“Or maybe his ability came from an item or even a Mystery treasure rather than himself?”
Angor then shook his head and got rid of the idea. He realized he grew a bit too obsessed with finding Mystery items.
Later, he reached Pompei Alley but without finding the residence of Lucas’ lover. Although this was to be expected, since 3,000 years was more than enough to remove a common house from the city.
He took a tour around the alley and failed to find any supernatural traces.
Next, he headed to several more spots in the city mentioned by Lucas or Moyah. Unfortunately, they were either brushed clean by the passage of time or guarded by supernatural individuals already on the scene.
In order not to draw hostile attention, Angor did not get too close to them.
He returned to Neet’s mansion and read Lucas’ logbook again. It seemed he had visited every spot he could find in the city apart from one, which was where Lucas killed himself.
[Day 6, Month of Looming Frost, Gold Age 1353. Weather: fog
[It has been thirty days since the Feather Fan returned. Nobody, NOBODY believes the inspiring stories of Captain Lucas! Just because I can’t show them the treasure I collected, they called me a liar! Farewell, world! I shall end my life here. That well over there will do the trick.]
Lucas jumped into a well. But… there were too many wells in the city.
Angor didn’t believe he had to check every well because most of them were private. Lucas was unlikely to trespass into someone else’s yard just to commit suicide.
As for public wells around Lucas’ residence…
After marking several possible areas on the city map where Lucas might find his grave, Angor called Neet and showed the man a bottle of blue liquid that glowed with a faint light.
“This is Indigo Elixir, a special alchemy potion that increases someone’s lifespan for up to 10 years,” Angor explained under Neet’s eager gaze.
Neet was planning on quitting his sailor job because his parents were approaching their limits. If only he could get his hands on this potion…
The effect of ordinary Indigo Elixir should be 15 years, but as this thing also damaged one’s potential, no apprentice would consume it. Angor bought this low-quality one just to use it on mortals.
“I need you to help me with a few things during my stay. When everything’s done, I’ll leave this potion here as your reward.”
He was originally going to give Neet some watered-down Glowing Velvet potion instead. But since Neet had been acting pretty helpful and sincere these days, plus Angor quite liked this man’s free character, he decided to bring out something better.
After receiving more of Neet’s gratitude, Angor showed him the map.
“Help me find out all the wells in these designated areas, and when they were built. I don’t need extreme details. Telling me a general time point is fine.”
Neet agreed without a second thought. “New wells and fountains being built must be reported to the baronet in charge of the district, then archived at the congregation’s council. I have a friend working as a celebrant. He should be able to get us the records.”
Church and monarchy coexisted in Anrum. It was usually the former who took care of trivial matters of the citizens.
“I’ll leave it to you. But remember, stay low.”
…
Heavy snow began to descend upon the city at midnight, hiding everything behind a white veil.
The Lost Paradise City looked ever more dreamy with the extra decoration. It was as if the snow had changed an alluring lady thirsty for guests into a timid matron who preferred peace.
There were fewer passersby on the streets, which allowed the light of the Luminous Stones to display their brilliancy even better against the snow.
A middle-aged man who had used the wrong clothing in this weather slowly trod past the buildings, until he stopped in front of an ordinary-looking warehouse.
Knock, knock!
After mumbling some complaints, an old man opened the door from the inside while puffing out some smoke.
“What is it?” he asked the visitor while trembling in the cold wind that came through the entrance.
“I heard that an experienced boatbuilder lives here. I wish to pay him a visit.”
The old man looked at the figure in front of him up and down and only saw a cheap and wrinkled attire that suggested sluggishness.
“That’ll be me and only me if ur looking for ship crafter.” He showed a doubtful look. “You ain’t a customer… You a pirate looting me house? Forget it. I may have a nice job before but I donated everythin’. I’ve not a cent left!”
“Donate? To whom? The betting house?” the visitor snickered.
“Well, it ain’t no your business!”
“On the contrary, I’m here to offer money.” The visitor showed a pouch filled with shiny coins inside.
“Ahh, you ARE a customer then! Now get inside!” The old man inhaled his pipe and showed a mouthful of yellowish teeth. “What ur name, chum?”
“Mister Ohm, you can call me Padt,” Angor spoke casually while carefully inspecting the surroundings with spirit feelers.
The warehouse, which was turned into a workhouse for building ships, had all kinds of cut lumber piled everywhere, and a broken ship was lifted above a narrow ditch.
He found no supernaturals nearby and canceled his inspection.
“So, Mister Padt, you want a new ship or have one of yours fixed?” Ohm showed Angor to a seat beside a makeshift bonfire.
“Neither. I want to ask some questions.”
“Question?” Ohm frowned. “Sorry to disappoint ya, but I know nothing about the business of the king and his doormats. But I can blabber about the filthy hanky-panky in the gambling house all day, if you want to hear it, ha!”
“Not like that. Do you know a lot about old ships used in history, Mister Ohm?”
“Dat depends on the ship. I know one or two things about popular ones.”
“The Feather Fan. Have you heard of this name before?”
“Feather Fan? Feather Fan… Wait wait wait. I KNOW I saw it somewhere before.”
Angor intentionally poked at the coin bag to use the alluring sound of money to help Ohm search his memory. Gradually, Ohm managed to remember some of the old stories his teacher used to tell him.
“You mean the ship used by Lucas some thousands of years ago, Mister Padt? The Feather Fan, aye that’s the name.”
Angor simply proceeded with more questions while he kept pushing the money bag to Ohm just at the right speed.
“Can you tell me what you know about it, Mister Ohm?”
“It’s an expedition ship, a three-masted brig used everywhere in the Age of Gold…”
Which meant the “ghost ship” that showed up at Devil’s Water was Lucas’ ship.
A moment later, by reading Angor’s “bag pushing”, Ohm noticed that Angor was more interested in the ship itself and its passengers, so he decided to talk more about these matters instead of introducing the specifications of the ship as a shipbuilder.
As soon as Ohm finished talking about Lucas’ “great treachery to the king”, Angor gave the money bag a final push so that it landed on Ohm’s spreading hands.
“It’s yours. Have a good night.”
