Several hours after departure, the captain of our vessel finally introduced himself properly.
Fleetmaster Aldric Vossarian.
Commander of The Golden Horizon Fleet.
One of the largest intercontinental merchant fleets operating across the eastern and southern trade routes.
Even I recognized the name immediately.
Aldric Vossarian is the sort of man younger merchants study carefully before entering negotiations.
Not because he is loud.
Or aggressive.
But because men like him survive long enough to become wealthy only through experience dangerous enough to reshape common sense.
He appears exactly as expected.
Older.
Controlled.
Sharp-eyed.
The kind of man who continuously calculates value without visibly appearing to think at all.
Even his smile resembles a negotiation tactic.
At one point during dinner, he admitted this was the first time in many years he had personally captained something as small as a Caravel.
Initially, he refused Daddy’s request entirely.
Especially after learning Daddy specifically wanted not only him, but several of his core crew members accompanying the voyage as well.
Not ordinary sailors.
His best people.
Navigators trusted across forbidden currents.
Veteran officers familiar with dangerous waters.
The sort of crew usually reserved for politically sensitive maritime operations.
However, according to Aldric himself, Daddy requested the voyage personally.
And offered payment substantial enough to “temporarily overpower good judgment.”
Reasonable explanation.
Unfortunately, the situation deteriorated shortly afterward.
At one point, Aldric requested Miss DeLuna indicate the approximate location of Isla de la Luna upon a maritime chart.
Miss DeLuna studied the map for several moments before calmly pointing toward the western ocean.
Directly into the center of the Forbidden Sea.
Aldric laughed immediately.
Not mocking laughter.
The sort produced by experienced people assuming a misunderstanding has occurred.
Then he asked whether Miss DeLuna actually understood how to read maritime charts.
Because according to every recognized international route agreement currently in existence, the waters she indicated are completely restricted.
No civilian vessel is permitted to enter.
Any ship crossing too deeply into the region risks immediate destruction under international maritime enforcement protocols.
Miss DeLuna simply blinked at him.
Then explained, very casually, that her homeland was indeed located there.
And if everyone still felt uncertain, we could apparently stop first at Leviathan Fort and speak with “Uncle Kael.”
The atmosphere changed instantly.
Aldric’s expression completely froze.
Not confusion.
Fear.
Visible fear.
The kind usually hidden by men with his level of experience.
After several seconds, he carefully asked:
“…High Admiral Kael Dravenholt?”
Miss DeLuna nodded immediately.
“Yes.”
“Uncle Kael.”
As though she were discussing a pleasant relative who occasionally visits during holidays.
For the remainder of dinner, Aldric became significantly quieter.
Later that evening, however, he privately explained the situation to me directly.
High Admiral Kael Dravenholt.
Commander of The Black Leviathan Fleet.
One of the highest-ranking maritime military authorities currently operating across western waters.
A man infamous enough that entire fleets alter routes simply to avoid provoking diplomatic attention from him.
According to maritime rumors, he once personally participated in the defeat of a Leviathan-class sea creature.
Which eventually inspired the name of his fleet.
When I cautiously asked Miss DeLuna about this rumor afterward, she looked genuinely uncertain.
Then informed me she believed most of those stories were probably exaggerated.
Apparently “Uncle Kael” mostly spends time fishing whenever she visits Leviathan Fort.
At one point she even casually mentioned he once taught her how to clean deep-sea fish properly.
I no longer possess enough emotional stability to determine what should or should not qualify as abnormal information anymore.
Aldric himself seemed deeply unsettled after learning all this.
At least initially.
However, during our later conversation, his mood shifted unexpectedly.
At one point he leaned back slightly in his chair, narrowed his eyes thoughtfully toward the western horizon, and admitted something rather alarming.
For the first time since accepting Daddy’s proposal…
He no longer regretted personally leading this voyage.
Because if Miss DeLuna was telling the truth.
Then there existed a genuine possibility we might directly witness one of the greatest maritime legends remaining in the modern world.
I am still uncertain whether that statement should inspire excitement or concern.
Possibly both simultaneously.
At this stage, I believe I have simply become too mentally exhausted to react properly anymore.
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