Chapter 36

Chapter 36: At the Turn of Day and Night

Turning such a huge fish into lunch was not easy at all.

It took skill, and it was hard physical work too.

Luckily, Duncan was driven by a fisherman’s sense of duty and a strong desire to improve their meals, so he tackled today’s catch with plenty of energy.

He worked in the galley for a long time. At last he managed to pry off the bony spines on the ugly monster’s head and clumsily cut its plump body into several pieces. There was hardly any meat on the head, so he tossed it aside for now. The belly and back, though, had some very good cuts, perfect for turning into ingredients aboard the Vanished.

It looked a little odd for a dignified captain to be busy in the kitchen himself, but Duncan actually enjoyed it. He only wondered what those ordinary people who feared the Vanished like a calamity would think if they saw this scene. Would they be shocked that the dreaded ghost captain also had such a down?to?earth, domestic side, or would they first praise Duncan’s excellent fishing skills?

He thought of this while he was cutting up the strange fish. In his good mood, he could not help but laugh. He wondered if, one day, he might actually invite some people aboard as guests. The Vanished would not always be another word for disaster. He did not plan to stay a cold?blooded, heartless ghost captain forever. Once he understood this world better, he fully intended to connect with modern civilized society.

When that day came, he would serve those guests fish.

After the rough but simple butchering, Duncan put most of the fish into a wooden barrel lined with sea salt, then rolled the heavy barrel into a storage room at the back of the galley. He left the smaller pieces for later. He planned to salt them and hang them to dry on the deck. If all went well, the sea breeze would turn them into dried salted fish.

It was a pity he had not found any strong liquor on the ship, or he would have had a few more ways to cure the fish.

Having fresh fish every day was great, of course, but Duncan knew fishing always depended on luck. Today’s haul was impressive, but the future might not be so kind, so he had to think about how to process and store the extra food.

After all, even though the dried meat and cheese in the stores of the Vanished showed no signs of decay, he had no idea if that was because the Vanished itself was special, or because those “dried meats” and “cheeses” were some kind of Anomaly. Letting hard?won fish rot would be a real shame.

At the very least, salted dried fish would be better than century?old salted meat, if only for a change of taste.

Duncan kept the freshest, best?looking cuts and threw them into the pot with some of the dried meat. In this case, the dried meat only served as seasoning.

It was a wasteful way to cook. Any real chef who saw what Duncan was doing would probably have their blood pressure shoot through the roof. The best use for such tender fish would have been to make a raw fish dish, and the second best would be to pan?fry or grill it lightly. Duncan knew that very well, but he chose this method to be safe.

He did not dare eat some unknown creature from the sea raw. In theory, sea fish did not carry parasites harmful to people, and as this “ghost captain” he probably did not need to fear ordinary poisons anyway, but what if he was wrong?

Compared to that, stewing was the most reliable way to deal with an unfamiliar ingredient.

He would try it this way first. If he confirmed the fish was really edible, then he would think about other recipes.

By the time he finished, it was almost late afternoon, and his very late “lunch” was finally ready.

He ladled out a bowl of fish soup. The rich smell made his mouth water, but before he ate, he carefully speared a piece of fish, blew on it to cool it, and set it down in front of the pigeon, AI.

A normal pigeon did not eat meat, of course, but AI could not really be called a normal pigeon.

Duncan wanted to satisfy his curiosity. On the Vanished, there were far too many things he needed to test.

As for what he would do if this Anomaly pigeon really got poisoned after eating the fish… Duncan already had a plan.

First, he had already prepared the ingredient as carefully as he could, so letting the pigeon try it was more of a formality. Second, if anything really went wrong with AI, he could use the green flame at once to pull her entirely into a spirit form state. He had already tested this before. In spirit form, AI reacted the same way as the brass spirit compass. She was like an “object” controlled by the fire of spirit form. He could even break down and reassemble spirit form AI and teleport her to any spot near him. Under those conditions, ordinary toxins definitely would not work on her.

AI tilted her head as she watched Duncan. After she realized the piece of fish was for her, she first pecked at the tabletop beside it with her beak. Her eyes wandered between Duncan and the ceiling as she asked: “You sure this melon’s ripe?”

Duncan said: “Just say if you’re going to eat it or not.”

AI flapped her wings and copied his tone: “Just say if you’re going to eat it or not!”

Only then did she lower her head and peck at the cooled fish. At a shocking speed, she finished off a piece of food that clearly was not meant for a pigeon!

After she finished, AI stretched her neck hard, then strutted proudly across the table. She seemed in a very good mood. After circling once, she came back in front of Duncan and squawked loudly: “So tasty! So tasty!”

Duncan stared at the pigeon, dumbfounded. Somehow a thought popped into his head: this thing now combined “pigeon, ‘so tasty,’ and broken record” all in one!

With all three key traits in place, it was practically the pride of Humans on Earth. If you filled out one of those free?form nine?square meme charts, this thing might even qualify as an Earthling…

After a while longer, Duncan confirmed that the pigeon showed no Anomalous reaction, and finally he relaxed completely.

So the captain of the Vanished and his pet hid in the kitchen, feasting away.

The fish really was delicious, just like what Duncan had seen in his dream.

…

The setting sun slowly sank toward the high walls at the edge of the city. The tall chimneys, pipes, and towers of the city?state of Pland were bathed bit by bit in pale golden light.

From the high ground in the city center, where the Storm Cathedral stood, came the deep tolling of the Great Bell. At the same time, the shrill whistle of steam gushing from relief valves rose into the air. A huge plume of white vapor burst from the tops of the side towers of the Cathedral, spreading like cloud and mist over the sky above the hill, refracting the golden sunlight from the sea.

This was the signal of the turning of day and night. It was a reminder that the power of the Sun was about to fade quickly, and that the World’s Wound would soon take the dominant place in the sky.

After that, the order of the mortal world would go from solid to unstable, and the influence from the world’s deep layers would grow stronger and stronger as the veil of night descended. This process would continue until the Sun rose again the next day.

Under the veil of night, cautious people chose to stay at home. Those who had no choice but to go out tried their best to stay where the lights were bright. Gas lamps that had received the divine blessing of the Clerics could drive away the malice in the veil of night as much as possible.

Even so, this was at least a prosperous and stable great city?state. Under the protection of the holy Storm Cathedral, even the deepest influences of the world’s deep layers were held down below a safe limit. The Anomalies that appeared in the city once in a while were only small problems. Ordinary citizens knew how to keep their homes safe, and at night the Church Guardians took over the Constables’ duties, keeping order in the city after nightfall.

Yet just as even the brightest streetlamp could not banish every Shadow, even right under the noses of the Church Guardians there were always fools who longed for darkness and upheaval. They feared and hated the current order of the world and, in their frenzy, yearned for some “glorious age” that even they had never seen.

Fortunately, in a city?state where the forces of order held the upper hand, these subversives could only curl up in the Shadows most of the time.

At the edge of the city?state, deep inside a sealed sewer entrance, several figures in black robes huddled in the corner of a small room.

This had once been a rest room for sewer maintenance workers, but it had been forgotten as the city’s layout changed. This neglected corner had become a refuge for cultists on the run. A dim Oil lamp hung on the wall. Its flickering light fell on several gloomy faces, full of fear and simmering hatred.

A man of about thirty lay on a bed made of ragged cloth on the floor. His teeth were clenched, his face pale, and his breathing weak and uneven. The others sat near him. One of them cursed under his breath: “Those damned Church jackals…”

“We lost so many of our brothers, and even the Envoy died in the ritual…” another said hoarsely. “How could such a holy ritual suddenly lose control…”

“That sacrificial victim… It was clearly because of that sacrificial victim. He was obviously a servant of the Heretics…”

“Listen,” one of the robed figures suddenly said. He tilted his head in the posture of the Listening Rite, then pointed upward. “That’s the dusk Bell and the whistles.”

“…nightfall is coming,” the first robed man, the one who had been cursing, said in a low voice. Uneasily, he looked at the “brother” lying on the floor in such a terrible state. “Damn it… I hope he can make it through this night…”