Chương 95: Chapter Ninety-Four: Caution

"Liona! Bring that longtail up front!"

"Yes, Head Chef!" Amelia shouted, relying on her enhanced dexterity to dart around the chaotic kitchen and bring a plate of the delicious meat to the kitchen's opening, where it was being served to a bunch of hungry demons who were desperate to begin their celebrations. They had good reason to celebrate; Anathor had announced throughout the ship that the Republic had signed a peace treaty, ending eight years of conflict! The war was finally over!

Amelia fully intended to celebrate that fact with Serena, but right now she needed to focus on navigating her kitchen duties, lest the Head Chef yell at her. That demon, instead of celebrating with his staff, had merely doubled the pressure upon them, emphasising that the upcoming excitement would require their best work. The man hadn't blinked twice at her disguise as Lia Liona, and was in fact delighted to find her cover was that of an icemage.

Not only had he made use of her magic to carefully freeze water to create bricks of ice to pack around the stores of meat, but he had had no difficulty whatsoever in changing his usual barked order of 'Thornheart!' to 'Liona!' So, given the hectic celebrations and her inability to escape the situation, Amelia had gritted her teeth and focused on her efforts. Who would have thought that this was where her game-enhanced abilities would shine!? Not that she was complaining.

Working as part of a team to fulfil the common goal of cooking scrumptious meals for the several hundred sailors under Serena's command was immensely satisfying. Even as a Lord-Prospect, Amelia felt that the Head Chef and his kitchen staff didn't treat her any differently. Something she greatly appreciated. Not everyone shared her thoughts, though.

"Empress… Damn it…" Daichi mumbled under his breath as he splashed soapy water onto himself.

"The war's over and I'm doing this!" Amelia suspected the poor mage had never had to cook his own meals before, after he'd demonstrated his inability to prepare fish by butchering a winterfish beyond recognition.

"By the Moons, man!" the Head Chef had shouted.

"Don't you highborn learn how to carve!? What did that winterfish ever do to you!?"

"That's more of a warrior tradition…" Daichi had protested. Either way, the Head Chef had put him on washing-up duty where he could do the least damage. As he slowly became more and more covered in soapy water, Amelia sent him telepathic messages of support. You're not the only one with a carving incident, Amelia thought. Hang in there, Daichi! Where Daichi failed to impress, Mel was there to make up for it. Using her red aura to enhance her dexterity, she deftly gutted and deboned each fish.

Whether it was the fat arkis, the slender winterfish, or the tricky longtails, Mel was quickly learning how to prepare each one, improving from any mistakes and soon becoming an integral part of the kitchen process. Hinako found her stride at the cooking station, where she kept a keen eye on the fillets, constantly adding, removing, and turning them to ensure they were seared and cooked to perfection.

"I used to do this for my brothers!" she said cheerfully.

"When they trained at home. It's actually where I first got exposed to duelling and made the decision to follow that path! Oh, we need more plates!"

"Mmm!" Amelia hummed in acknowledgement. She darted to Daichi's station, picking up a stack of clean and dried plates. Even though Daichi complained a lot, he dutifully invoked his magic to dry the plates quickly.

"If Mother could see me now…" he muttered.

"Officer Ishitani!" barked the Head Chef.

"Y-yes?"

"Yes, what!?"

"Yes, Head Chef!?"

"Stop complaining in my kitchen!"

"... Yes, Head Chef…" Amelia giggled as she brought Hinako the plates. As she set them down, a new voice boomed through the kitchen opening.

"Kitchen!" barked Dagon.

"Break out some of the Christmas meat! A whole hog for the crew! And bring out a barrel of wine! Captain's orders!" As the crew began cheering, he continued, "Make that two hogs! We're sending one down to Andalus. Figure if we stroke their horns a bit, they'll be more inclined to let us have the pick of their crystal."

"Aye aye, First Officer!" the Head Chef yelled. He turned and gave orders to some of the kitchen staff, who darted into the ship's larder.

"I can't believe it's really over…" Hinako muttered to Amelia.

"The war, that is. You know what this means? The arenas are going to be flooded with talent! All those returning warriors and mages with actual combat experience are going to be looking for new income. Ah…" Hinako shook her head, reaching out and flipping a few sizzling fillets.

"The competition is going to be fierce!" Dagon appeared in the kitchen with a few sailors behind him. As the kitchen workers brought up the required meats and drinks, he had the sailors pick them up and carry them away. One hog, ready to roast, went with them while the other started being prepared for cooking.

"Once it's done, would"–the head chef's gaze flicked to Mel, and then, as if reconsidering, flicked to Amelia–"you accept the honour of carving for the crew, Miss Liona?" Amelia felt a shiver make its way down her back. She didn't know how to respond! There were a million ways to say no to something, and she'd somehow forgotten every one!

"Head Chef," Dagon intoned, rubbing his chin. The southern demon looked awkwardly between the hog and Amelia with a clenched jaw.

"Uh, the Cap'n and the rest of the officer staff will be eating this. I'd rather have your skilled hands carve. Cap'n deserves the best, after all." My hero! Amelia thought. She sent him a message with her eyes that she hoped communicated her gratitude. For some reason, his lips only curled in response.

"Right you are, First Officer," the Head Chef affirmed. Soon, the hog was coated with melted fat and put into the oven on a bed of potatoes that would absorb all its juices. After a few minutes, the tantalising smell of its cooking meat, coupled with the mouth-watering fragrance of the processed fish, had the crew practically cheering the Head Chef's name. As it slowly became a golden brown, Mel continued to prepare the remainder of the fish with quiet determination.

She wasn't talking much and Amelia suspected she was running their duel through her mind. Even now, Mel was doing some form of training! Serena had really picked a talented bunch of horns, hadn't she? Under her girlfriend's tutelage and command, Amelia had no doubt that they would go far. With Mel's talent, it wouldn't be long before her orange was closing in on yellow and, after that, who knows where she might go from there? Amelia was sure that Mel would become a Speaker one day.

"Damn it!" Daichi cursed. His hand had slipped while scrubbing plates and he'd managed to flick an enormous tidal wave of soapy water over himself. Amelia did her best not to giggle. Her restraint wasn't shared by the rest of the kitchen staff, who burst out laughing at his ordeal. Amelia cast him a sympathetic look as the Head Chef gave him another dressing down. Daichi would be fine, wouldn't he? After all, everyone had to do kitchen duty on the Vengeance. She wondered if Serena ever worked in the kitchens.

She must have, right? Maybe not as a captain, but when she joined a squad commander. Or maybe not. It would only take one Serena-level glare to–"Liona! Stop staring into space and get back to work!"

"Y-yes, Head Chef!"

"This is good crystal," Allston said, as the glistening blue powder fell from his palm back into the barrel.

"The engines will be happy to eat this up. Although…" The chief engineer glanced down the ship's deck where his men were manoeuvring the cargo from the fortress's docks into the Vengeance's depths.

"This is more than we need. Are you"–he cast a quick glance at Serena–"expecting any diversions?"

"Just doing my due diligence," Serena answered.

"This will be the longest trip we've made without access to any ports of call. Who knows what luck we'll have in the passage." As she finished her words, she took a few steps to the ship's railing and looked west, past the metal walls of the fortress. Thirty klicks of open sky lay before them, absent of any islands or notable features. If it weren't for the dark horizon, which flashed with the occasional bolt of lightning, it might have been peaceful.

Instead, the distant skies seemed to be both welcoming and warning them.

"Captain!" a voice called. Serena turned to see Dagon approaching them, holding two bowls of steaming vegetables and meat.

"Roasted hog," he said.

"Finest selection, carved by the Head Chef himself. Got one for you as well, Allston."

"Oh?" Serena raised an eyebrow as she and Allston took their bowls and forks.

"Amelia didn't volunteer?" Dagon chuckled.

"I might have saved her in that regard. Head Chef picked her, but I stepped in. Figure it's a favour I can call in later."

"Valuable favour," Serena mused, looking down at the bowl. She thought she wasn't hungry, but the moment the smell hit her nose, her stomach rumbled. Taking a fork, she quickly dug into the food, doing her best not to eat too impolitely. This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

"Make sure the crew don't get drunk," she instructed Dagon.

"I don't want to hear about any hangovers from Hillbrand. Ensure they understand that excessive drinking will result in punishment, not healing from Amelia." Seeing Dagon nod, she added, "Speaking of, make sure she and the rest of the kitchen staff get a portion of this hog. It's delicious."

"Already done, Captain." Dagon peered past her at Allston's men.

"Looks like we're just finishing up here. When did you want to set sail?"

"Tomorrow morning," Serena answered.

"The Indefatigable should make an appearance by tonight. I imagine they'll want to join the celebrations if they haven't heard already. Make sure Navigation gets the latest weather charts sooner rather than later. I'm guessing this fortress is going to be full of sailors too drunk to send an aethergram if we wait any longer."

Judging by the celebratory firing of the fortress's guns and the jubilant noises she could still hear from beyond its thick walls, the inhabitants were taking full advantage of the news about the war. Although the excessive drinking she'd witnessed irked her professional sensibilities, she could understand why they would take the opportunity to let loose. Serving their contract down here, with dark skies and bitter weather, probably wasn't great for morale. They'd managed to find the fortress's second-in-command.

A tipsy demon who, after being bribed with a few barrels of wine and a whole hog to roast, let them have their pick of the fortresses' stores. What was it Amelia said all those months ago, when Serena had first interrogated her in the Vengeance's cells? You catch more flies with honey. Well, if the hog hadn't worked, then her fist would have. Serena watched as the last few pieces of cargo were loaded onto her ship. As the bay doors slammed shut, she went over her mental checklist.

Once they entered the Southern Passage, they had to be ready for every eventuality. Even though she knew the ship's weapons were well looked after by Thorne, and the engines equally well cared for by Allston and his niece, Serena couldn't help but think she was missing something. It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling. It was a feeling felt by every captain before a mission, and every squad commander before an assault.

The dreadful sensation of thinking you might have made some unknown mistake that was going to bring everything crashing down catastrophically. For Serena, it was a feeling that had become more common after the Federation Convoy Incident. Right now, that feeling was particularly strong. As she reflected on the possible causes, her mind narrowed down onto one likely source of her concern.

"Allston," she said.

"When you have time, bring me a spare gear."

"Captain?" Allston tilted his head in confusion.

"Any size. Make sure it's got some lubricant on."

"Uh, sure, I'll have it on your desk within the hour."

"Thank you." She finished her meal. Handing the bowl and fork back to Dagon, she dismissed them and headed into the ship. Navigating through its corridors, she began heading down the main stairway that spiralled through most of the ship's decks. She passed the second deck, from which she heard many of her sailors eating and drinking merrily in their quarters, and onto the third deck, where she made her way to the medical bay.

As she approached the doors to the medical room where Hillbrand worked, she sensed Amelia's presence draw closer. Pushing open the door, her suspicions were quickly verified. There were more than a few familiar faces before her.

"Hello!" Amelia chirped, giving her a wave.

"Did Dagon get you a bowl?" Amelia wasn't alone. Other than Hillbrand herself, the two cadets, Noburu and Seonmi, jumped up and saluted her earnestly.

"As you were," Serena intoned, waving them back down. She cast a questioning look towards her medical officer.

"I'm setting her up down here, Captain," Hillbrand explained, gesturing to Seonmi.

"And giving her the same warnings I talked to you about, and going over her duties."

"Right," Serena said, looking at the female cadet.

"Working here isn't a promotion, Sailor. I expect you to pull your weight and be of value to my medical officer."

"Y-yes, Captain!" Seonmi jumped up again, saluting her. Serena took a moment to look into the woman's eyes. They were a deep blood-orange, a colour that hinted at her highborn family. Serena cast a glance at Noburu, meeting his crimson eyes. They might not have been as pure as her own, but they were enough to raise suspicions that there was more to him than seen at first glance.

"Fitting in okay?" she asked. They both nodded quickly.

"Volunteer for kitchen duty for tomorrow's breakfast," she instructed.

"Everyone has to do it at first, and if you're seen working hard to cook food for the rest of the crew after a night of celebration… you'll fit right in."

"Yes, Captain!" they responded in unison.

"As for you," she continued, nodding to Noburu.

"What are you doing down here?"

"That's on me!" Amelia said cheerfully.

"Thought I would heal his fingers!"

"So you brought him down here, instead of showing off your magic in the mess hall for all to see?" Serena raised an eyebrow, feeling her lips curl into a smile.

"Look at you, learning how to be discreet."" Extremely discreet, thank you very much!" Amelia said, puffing her cheeks out. Even though Amelia was in disguise, she still looked adorable when she pouted.

"Well," Serena intoned, folding her arms.

"There are already five of us here. Let's see it, then. Before your audience grows any further. Anathor!" she called out to the ship's guardian.

"Shout out if we need to stop!"

"Aye aye, Captain," the formless replied.

"Ahem!" Amelia cleared her throat and turned to Noburu.

"Are you ready? It won't hurt, I promise!"

"Umm." Noburu looked between Amelia, Serena, and Seonmi in turn.

"Sure. I'm ready. I just–" He was interrupted as a burst of golden light – in which brilliant specks of royal blue danced – exploded from Amelia. The light quickly converged, flowing into Noburu's body and onto his left hand. Serena even saw a bit of Amelia's magic break off and flow into Hillbrand and Seonmi. She knew enough about Amelia's control that this was probably intentional. Her girlfriend probably didn't want the others to feel left out, knowing they would feel too awkward to ask themselves.

As Noburu's mouth dropped open, his luminous hand flashed with a sudden burst of aether before dimming to nothing. He slowly raised his hand, turning it this way and that, where everyone could see he was now in possession of the correct number of fingers.

"Surprises me every time," Hillbrand said, shaking her head.

"I don't believe it…" Seonmi muttered.

"Everything good, Anathor?" Serena called out.

"Agitated… but good, Captain," Anathor replied.

"Just…" Noburu swallowed, his voice shaking.

"Just like that? Are you okay?" he asked Amelia.

"You don't need to rest after this? That didn't exhaust you, did it?" Oh, Noburu, Serena thought. You're going to need to adjust those expectations.

"Well?" Serena clicked her tongue.

"Are you going to thank Amelia, or not?"

"Y-yes!" Noburu exclaimed.

"Thank you!" He stood up, bringing his feet together and bowing deeply in the Samino style.

"Thank you, Lord-Prospect!"

"Just Amelia, remember?" Amelia reminded him with a grin.

"I…" Noburu trailed off, turning his hand this way and that. He bent his new fingers experimentally and touched them with his other hand.

"I…"

"Before you start crying, get out," Serena commanded.

"I need to talk to Hillbrand. Amelia, would you mind taking Noburu back to the mess hall? I'm sure his fellow sailors would like to celebrate the return of his fingers. Oh, and come to my quarters after. I have something to go over with you."

"Okay!" Amelia bounced up and led Noburu away and out of the medical bay.

"What can I do for you, Captain? Anything urgent?" Hillbrand asked, casting a glance at Seonmi.

"It's fine," Serena said.

"She can listen. I wanted to talk to you about the Red Fever vaccinations."

"Yes?"

"Let's get it done tomorrow morning, after breakfast." Serena paused for a moment, considering her options.

"No, do it before. We'll hold breakfast off until they're done. I'll get Dagon to announce a celebratory breakfast. Use up more of our venison and the fish Allston's men caught. Hold it hostage until they agree." Hillbrand chuckled.

"Sure thing, Captain. I'll get things ready. Regarding that, I did want to ask you…" The medical officer swallowed.

"You know the statistics regarding the vaccinations, right?" After Serena nodded, Hillbrand continued, "With a crew of almost three hundred, we can expect a dozen or so becoming bed-bound. And…" Hillbrand's eyes flickered to the doorway.

"Without her healing… a death or two if we're unlucky."

"I'll talk to Amelia about it. She'll be more than happy to step in if there are any adverse reactions." Red Fever was no joke. It was especially dangerous to non-natives of the South. Dagon and Tomes would be fine either way, and any aether users would naturally have higher resistance. But it was the common sailor who was at risk, and some of that risk persisted with the vaccine itself. Although much safer, the vaccine had a reputation that sailors loved to exaggerate. It was why Serena decided to do it tomorrow.

They would get it done fast, before they entered the Southern Passage and while crew morale was high. With reassurances that Amelia would step in if anyone had problems, she was sure there would be little resistance. Now Serena thought about it, she remembered a lecture from the Academy where they covered a case of mutiny. While not the singular cause, a round of Red Fever vaccinations had tipped the crew's morale past the point of no return and into insurrection.

With Amelia nearby, such concerns vanished from Serena's mind. Demonkind might have no gods of healing. But the Vengeance had Amelia. Even if they had to be careful with her magic on the ship, it was still a massive force multiplier.

"See you in the morning," Serena said, giving her farewells and leaving. She walked through the corridor, past more than one sailor with a reddened face. Reaching the stairway, she began to climb towards her quarters, where she would wait for Amelia and– What was that? Someone was playing music from below. A strange, mournful melody that tickled her ears. Without thinking, Serena took a step down. Then she took another, and another.

Before she knew it, she was walking back down the way she came, spiralling down into the Vengeance's structure. Past the second deck. Past the third deck. Serena stopped. Fourth-deck, the brass plaque read. The heavy wooden door stood firm. Unyielding. Serena blinked and focused her hearing. Despite moving towards the melody, it still sounded far away. But… she was sure it was coming from within the fourth deck. Anathor had talked about this, hadn't he? Was this the agitation he just mentioned?

Was this the ship– No. This was the soul bound by the ship, reacting to Amelia's magic? Serena pressed an ear to the door, straining to hear more. Was someone… or something … Singing? Swallowing nervously, Serena clenched and unclenched her hands a few times. She moved her aura into orange, and then, slowly but surely, bent down and moved her face until she could look through the keyhole. Even with her aura- and Amelia-enhanced senses, only a solid darkness greeted her. Wait. Was that movement just now?

Or was her mind playing tricks with her? Serena strained her senses. She was sure, she was certain, that if she kept looking, she would see something. She just needed to keep listening to that melody, and keep looking–"Captain?" Serena jerked upwards, spinning around to see Allston looking at her with a puzzled expression. In his hands, he held a grimy gear, about six inches in diameter. What am I doing? Serena thought. She shook her head. She didn't need to tell Allston not to mention what he just saw.

She trusted that he knew that this wasn't something that needed any further discussion.

"Allston," she intoned.

"You got the gear. Thank you." She reached out and took the piece of metal from him, feeling her fingers immediately become slick with grease.

"No problem, Captain. Anything else you need?"

"No. Continue as you were. Oh, make sure your boys get their fair share of hog."

"Aye, Captain." Serena nodded, and Allston nodded back. There was only the briefest moment of hesitation before her chief engineer coughed politely and continued up the staircase. She waited until his footsteps had faded and, with one last look at the mysterious door, continued on her way and back to her quarters. On the way, she chastised herself mentally. Mysteries could wait. For now, the Southern Passage loomed. And it was her duty to ensure her ship and every soul aboard survived the journey.

Yet, even with the resolute determination that began to bubble from within. That same feeling of doubt remained. Nothing would go wrong, would it?