Chapter 359: Stargazing
The colossal vessel, the White Oak, pressed forward with relentless determination, undeterred by the ghostly shroud of fog that enveloped it. Propelling its journey was the ship’s steam core, an engine of immense power that drove its complex propulsion system with effortless precision. T
As the sky transitioned to a darker hue, a biting wind began to whip across the sea’s surface, adding a chill to the already tense atmosphere. Captain Lawrence, feeling the cold’s sting, pulled his coat tighter around himself and headed back towards the warmth of the bridge.
Inside, a young priest dressed in a black robe adorned with silver and blue stripes was deep in prayer. He swung an incense burner gently, its aromatic smoke curling around the ship’s control panels. Noticing the captain’s entrance, the priest paused, nodded respectfully, and continued his ritual.
This young priest, named Jansen, was their spiritual guardian for the voyage. Lawrence wasn’t well-acquainted with him, a common occurrence for captains transporting “abnormal items.” Priests assigned by the city-state churches were regularly rotated to ensure safety during such voyages.
These rotations were crucial, as transporting hazardous cargo often involved dealing with supernatural forces. The onboard priest acted as the ship’s “supernatural barrier,” absorbing the brunt of any psychological or supernatural stress. Daily prayers and rituals performed by the priest reflected the crew’s dreams and helped mitigate the influence of any unusual forces.
However, priests were not immune to these effects. Prolonged exposure could dull their ability to detect supernatural contamination and potentially turn them into conduits for subspace invasions. Therefore, after several voyages, priests returned ashore for purification and spiritual realignment at a designated church. Most recovered and returned to their duties, but some suffered lasting psychological scars, confining them to serve the church on land.
In essence, these brave priests were considered consumables in the grand scheme of navigation—a harsh reality shared by all seafarers.
Breaking his train of thought, Lawrence addressed the young priest. “Mr. Jansen, how’s the machine?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.
“Operating smoothly, Captain,” Jansen replied calmly. “I’ve just inspected the lower engine room. The entire power system and steam pipelines are in perfect working order.”
Lawrence nodded in satisfaction and engaged in casual conversation with Jansen for a while before moving to the large window at the front of the bridge. It offered a panoramic view of their surroundings.
The deck, now swathed in a greyish fog, moved steadily through the restless sea beneath an ominous sky. Turbulent, formless clouds filled the heavens, with wisps of diffuse light casting a faint glow on the waves below. Despite the bleak weather, Lawrence took comfort in knowing they were close to their destination, the city-state of Frost. Any looming storms were unlikely to catch them before reaching safety.
Lawrence’s concern deepened as he turned to a sailor stationed at a control panel nearby. “Have we had any response to our signal from Frost?” he asked.
The sailor, responsible for monitoring the telegraph system, shook his head. With headphones around his neck and a pencil poised in one hand, he sat before a small machine casting an orange glow. “No response yet,” he confirmed. “But based on our current position, we should be close enough for direct contact with Frost.”
A sense of unease crept over Lawrence as he gazed at the distant horizon. “This isn’t right,” he mused aloud. “Given our time and location, we should be seeing the coastline of Frost by now…”
Abruptly, he turned to his first mate. “Are you sure about our course?” he demanded.
“Yes, Captain,” the first mate replied. “We’ve double-checked. Our position is accurate.”
A deep furrow formed on Lawrence’s forehead as he pondered the situation. After a moment of contemplation, he took a decisive breath. “I need to confirm our position myself. Prepare the stargazing room.”
The first mate hesitated, taken aback by the order. Before he could voice his concern, Jansen stepped forward. “Captain,” he interjected, “at your age, it might not be the best idea to enter the stargazing room…”
Lawrence met the young priest’s gaze, remaining silent. He understood Jansen’s concerns. Entering the stargazing room exposed one to a degree of corruption. The ethereal play of light and shadow from the deepest spiritual realms exerted tremendous pressure on the observer’s psyche. As an aged captain, Lawrence’s mind was not as robust as in his youth, and the risk of losing himself while observing the celestial bodies was significantly higher.
Yet, seasoned captains like Lawrence, with their vast experiences, could discern minute changes in the starlight that hinted at a ship’s off-course trajectory—something younger navigators often missed.
“I’ll make it quick,” Lawrence finally responded, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I suspect the ship has strayed, and there’s a misalignment in the stargazing room. My experience in calibration may prove useful.”
Reluctantly, Jansen stepped aside. “You are indeed the captain,” he conceded. “I’ll prepare a protective charm for you.”
With a firm nod, Lawrence cast a final glance towards the bow. The coastline of Frost remained hidden by the endless sea and lingering fog.
Turning away, Lawrence descended towards the stargazing room, navigating a passageway leading away from the bridge. He moved through a corridor and down a staircase into the lower levels of the White Oak. After passing through several interconnected cabins and doorways, he reached the stargazing room at the ship’s bottom.
Jansen accompanied Lawrence to the door, preparing the necessary rituals. He filled the incense burner with specially formulated incense and anointed it with sacred oil, murmuring obscure scriptures. As he swung the burner, fragrant smoke enveloped Lawrence. Jansen then used a ritual knife adorned with storm runes, making symbolic cuts in the air to invoke the protection of the storm goddess, Gomona.
The ship’s navigator, visibly anxious, arrived at the stargazing room. He was a young man, pale and flustered by the captain’s decision to personally confirm their course.
Noting the navigator’s distress, Lawrence offered a reassuring smile. “Relax,” he advised. “This might not be your fault. The spiritual and supernatural realms are unpredictable, and stellar shifts are common. Your inexperience is understandable.”
The navigator stammered, “I… I’ve double-checked our course, and it’s accurate. But…”
Lawrence waved dismissively. “I’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Jansen’s voice cut through the air. “Captain, the blessing is complete,” he announced. “You can enter the stargazing room, but be cautious. If you haven’t emerged after fifteen minutes, I’ll come looking for you.”
“Ten minutes should suffice,” Lawrence assured, adjusting his uniform.
He stepped towards the formidable metal door, engraved with storm runes and interlaced with sacred silver threads. Pushing it open, he entered the stargazing room.
The chamber, dimly lit and bathed in a soft glow, unfolded before him. Lawrence shut the metal door behind him and began his assessment.
The room had no windows, only the single metal door for entry and exit. Its sole purpose was to house a cylindrical contraption, about a meter in diameter, standing at its center.
This device, resembling an altar, was surrounded by an intricate network of cranks, levers, and mirror mechanisms. A small platform adjacent to it was reserved for the ship’s navigator. At the top of the cylindrical structure was a concave, transparent section with a crystal lens, held by a complex array of levers shaped like an inverted bowl. Though it appeared vacant at first glance, a closer inspection revealed faint wavering ripples within.
Lawrence climbed onto the small platform and brought his gaze to rest on the lens.
Navigating the Boundless Sea lacked fixed reference points on the water’s surface. City-states were isolated islands in an infinite ocean. If a ship missed its mark, sailors would be disoriented in the limitless waters, making navigation critical.
The sun served as a reliable celestial marker, but its utility was compromised when obscured. In such circumstances, navigation relied on the stars, making stargazing an essential skill for long-distance seafaring.
Lawrence bent slowly, immersing his face into the concave section of the large crystal lens.
The stars lay within its depths—observing them required not only advanced equipment but also a sound and resilient mind.
Lawrence’s eyes adjusted to the darkness as he peered through the lens. Stars, bright and distant, sparkled against the black void. He focused on the familiar constellations, using them to confirm the ship’s position.
As he studied the stars, subtle discrepancies emerged. A slight shift in a constellation, an unfamiliar star where none should be—small deviations that hinted at a misalignment. Lawrence’s seasoned eyes caught these anomalies, confirming his suspicion that the ship had strayed off course.
His mind, though experienced, felt the strain of the stargazing room. The interplay of light and shadow tugged at his psyche, threatening to overwhelm his senses. Lawrence knew he had to work quickly.
He adjusted the levers, aligning the mirrors to recalibrate the lens. Each adjustment brought the constellations back into their correct positions, gradually correcting the ship’s course.
After what felt like an eternity, but was only minutes, the stars settled into their proper places. Lawrence exhaled in relief, the weight of uncertainty lifting from his shoulders. The ship was back on course, heading towards Frost.
He stepped back from the lens, his mind weary but resolute. As he exited the stargazing room, Jansen and the navigator awaited him.
“It’s done,” Lawrence announced. “We’re back on course.”
The navigator sighed in relief, and Jansen offered a grateful nod. “Thank you, Captain.”
Lawrence nodded, feeling the weight of his responsibilities. The journey to Frost continued, but with the stars as their guide, they would reach their destination safely.
As the White Oak sailed through the fog, the crew’s confidence was restored. The stars, once again, led them forward, a beacon of hope in the boundless sea.
A chapter without green flames? Blasphemy!
I’m worried, what if Captain Lawrence’s crew and the priest were corrupted? Kskskskskksksksks
Unexpectedly ironic to observe stars from the bottom of the ship.