Searching for Andromeda 96 The Sea Reflecting Each Soul

The air was crisp and cold as fresh apple, and it felt good against Ephraim's face. The morning breeze of the sea was surprisingly more pleasant than he had expected. Being an archaeologist meant to be a traveler, but Ephraim Ignacio Hughes lived in a technologically-advanced civilization. He boarded planes, hydrofoils, but never a carrack — a wooden sailing ship that should have been found in about European waters around 14th to 17th century IF Ephraim's memories serve right.

Guild master Shey and her son Dro sent them off to the merchant ship sailing towards Sembilica. The ship would make a short stop to Patriargë, its neighboring country to drop Ephraim and Samuel off to its port, and from that point on it's up to them.

"Honestly, it feels too fast . . ." Shey said in all honesty. "Are you two sure that you don't want to wait for a month or so?"

Ephraim too, felt that the pacing was quite rushed. Sure, they could plan things out to Alaris—but then again, HOW in the world would they plan? Patriargë was another country completely different from Alaris. Shey told them that its affairs were only disclosed to them, and she didn't have any much more knowledge other than the human trafficking and their economic standing falling to ruin.

So Ephraim decided it was best to go to the country as quickly as they could.

Besides, he and Samuel couldn't just dwindle and spend their time in leisure. Three members of Ephraim's task force are missing. They couldn't afford to lose any more time. 

"You're going to get sick with a cold, Dungeon Conqueror." It was the ship's captain, Borgh. Borgh was a merchant and a sailor in one. He was in charge of transporting goods to Sembilica. He had a luscious brown hair and quite a plump stomach, which complemented his soft features. Ephraim can compare him to a bear with these characteristics. 

"I'm quite alright, thank you, Borgh," Ephraim said. 

"The time of sailing to Patriargë will be approximately 15 hours or a day," said Borgh. "But that depends on how calm the sea is."

It was a short time, considering they were sailing from a country to another. But then again, Alaris is the smallest country there is in the globe. It was only one island that is a tad separated from Patriargë itself. Ephraim glanced back to the country they left—from here, it was a mere dot now. They left early in the morning, after all.

"Well. I'll be consulting with the merchants. Feel free to call me if you need something, Conqueror . . . ah. I have one question that has been bugging me ever since you've come here," said Borgh. "I was thinking about your journey."

"My journey?"

"Yes," Borgh nodded. "Why are you going to Patriargë, Conqueror? That country's long fallen. If you want to migrate, there are other countries that could offer you more, such as the Litchfield Republic,"

Ephraim still hasn't accustomed to people calling him 'Dungeon Conqueror'. It was like a title he was given without effort—and he had seen people struggling to call him conqueror at first. After all, he wasn't given a 'warrior-like' physique like they were expecting. It wasn't that Ephraim was skin and bones, it was just his muscles aren't that buff. Although he had calloused fingers matching his toned body from all the archaeological digs he went through his internship, he was still considered average. Even a regular adventurer was better than him in every aspect.

"Well, no need to answer my question, though!" Borgh said, patting Ephraim's back. "Don't let it get to you. It's just that it's rare for people asking to be in that country."

"I made a promise," Ephraim mumbled.

"Hm?"

"Lame leader!"

"Oh, if it isn't the young companion," Borgh grinned. "I'll leave you two here. Don't catch a cold, lads!"

With a laugh, Borgh left the two. Samuel walked towards Ephraim, who was on the side of the ship, the main sail above them. Samuel stood beside Raim, letting the breeze sweep his platinum-blond hair as he welcomed the crisp air to his face. The ship was going onto a steady pace, not too fast and not too slow. Samuel peered below, seeing his reflection into the waters. It was at times like this Samuel felt lucky he wasn't one of those people who got seasick.

The fizzing of the sails and the bubbling of the water against the hull made Samuel think of a distant poem he must have heard in school—it was like the experiences he was getting now were from a certain prose he accidentally conjured on the back of his mind; it was vague—even with Samuel's memory, he couldn't evoke the thought. Maybe he was making it up. He glanced towards Ephraim, who was looking at the far distance after Sam's battle between him and his mind. Again, as usual, Samuel couldn't predict what Ephraim was thinking.

". . . for fashion."

"Hm?"

"Were those glasses you wore for fashion?"

Ephraim chuckled, but he didn't pull his eyes away from the sea. 

"No,"

"You seem to be perfectly fine even without wearing them," Samuel asserted. Ephraim wasn't wearing any glasses anymore, after all.

"Well . . . I did have astigmatism," said Ephraim. "Which is why I wore glasses. But now, my vision is so clear. Ever since I 'conquered' the vessel, everything became clear to me."

"Huh. So claiming the vessel have some rejuvenating effects too," Samuel caressed his chin. "How did you get the vessel anyways?"

"Well . . . I fought with some fire that looked like me, and then things happened and the fire went inside my palms,"

"Wow," Samuel snorted. "Isn't that crazy."

"Yes, it is—" Ephraim started, "in fact, everything is crazy. For instance, you're here with me. You're underage, but the president assigned you to such a dangerous mission. Both you and Esmeralda."

"Yeah, right. I'm also surprised YOU are the leader." Samuel said. "No offense."

"Point," Ephraim said. "Actually, it's been bugging me," 

Ephraim's reflection on the deep-blue waters wasn't clear—it was swirling, but his blue eyes were definitely filled and mirrored with questions.

"Bugging you?"

"George Denmark's plans," Ephraim said. "He said we are handpicked by the people he trusted, right? He picked an Archaeologist, a Biologist, a Researcher, a Doctor, and a Former sergeant to complete a mission, find an object in a desolated lab . . ." 

"Yeah?"

"Isn't it odd? Our professions. They don't match for a team search. Why in the world would he assign three fresh graduates, two children at that, and then make ME a leader? Also, why a surgeon? Why a sergeant? If the president really wanted the 'object' to be found, he should've hired more suitable people," Ephraim said. "It doesn't make sense. But then again, Andromeda itself doesn't make sense at all,"

"Well, I only thought about how awesome it is to be assigned a job by some bigshot,"

". . . You're surprisingly honest, Sam,"

"Well, it's just the two of us!" Samuel said. "It's not like I can become an angsty teen when we're practically in a world we don't know! Besides, if you're really not up for it, why'd you accept the job?"

Ephraim blinked, and then chuckled.

"Well . . . you're right. We only have each other now," Ephraim exclaimed. "And I accepted the job because it's not like I can refuse,"

"You can," Samuel said. "You just didn't want to."

Ephraim turned his head towards Samuel.

"Like me, you also got ruled by your curiosity," Samuel said with a grin. "I guess we've been in the same boat for long—both figuratively and literally."

Ephraim smiled as the breeze swept his hair, lifting his bangs away from his forehead.

"Yeah."

 **

Meanwhile, from the distance . . .

"Are you sure this is the ship he's in, Miko?"

A frail girl nodded; her head bowed down.

The man's eyes were like a dead fish's, contrasting his wide smile.

"Tell the servants we're having a guest tonight," the man said, eyeing the two young men in the carrack. "One dead, and one to be left alive." The man grinned, licking the hook etched as a replacement to his one hand.

"Let the game begin."

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Chapter end