"Knock! Knock! Knock!"
A crisp knock came from the wooden door of the house.
Sigurd's voice rang out from outside, "Ed, are you ready? We're going out to sea today."
"Right away!"
Ed, who had just finished getting ready, snatched a piece of bread from the table, stuffed it into his mouth, and rushed out after a couple of hasty chews. As for Raila, he had already told her about his plans for the day. Displeased and worried for his safety, she had shown her anger not only by squeezing out every last drop of his "cream" the night before but also by refusing to wake him in the morning as he'd asked, and by not preparing his breakfast as she usually did.
It had been two days since his meeting with Hena and becoming her secret "crush." That day, he had also gone to her house, and Raila's expression had been a sight to behold, especially since he had specifically told Hena not to warn her of his visit.
The three of them had spent a wonderful evening together; with his smooth talking, he had raised the favorability of both the youngest and the eldest girls to over 80. As for the middle one, she seemed a quiet, silent type, but her favorability had also reached nearly 50. All in all, as a stepfather, he had certainly won everyone over.
After the girls went to sleep, Ed, who was supposed to be on the couch, quietly sneaked into Raila's bedroom, which was three times more luxurious than his own, and they had a long, heartfelt conversation. Because of his surprise visit, even after he was completely dry, Raila didn't let him go, forcing a few more rounds. It had been a truly crazy night.
But back to the present. Seeing the bread in Ed's mouth, Sigurd wanted to ask why he hadn't eaten a proper breakfast, given that it was already 9 o'clock, but he swallowed the question when he noticed the dark circles under Ed's eyes.
Shaking his head, he pulled Ed along and said, "Then let's go quickly. The ship should set sail soon."
Sigurd led Ed through their small town to the island's port.
The salty, humid sea breeze and the warm morning sun greeted them as small fishing boats capable of carrying only two or three people slowly left the harbor. The island's fishing boats usually set out at dawn and might not return until afternoon or even at night.
Only the two large sailboats he had seen before remained at the port. The hold of one was open, and sailors he didn't recognize were carrying sacks of wheat inside, supervised by a man who seemed to be in charge.
"Hold them steady, don't spill or get them wet. These are golden ears of wheat!" The supervisor called out.
Only a few sacks remained on the wooden plank nearby; it wouldn't be long before they were all loaded.
"This is Uncle Hols's merchant ship. You know Uncle Hols, right?"
Ed nodded dumbfoundedly, his attention on the heavy sack of wheat in Sigurd's arms; it had to be over 40 kilograms. He remembered Uncle Hols, an island resident often seen at the tavern or port, drinking as if there were no tomorrow and flirting with the tavern keeper's wife, only to get beaten for his troubles. But since he was a friend of the tavern owner, and a shameless one at that, he always came back. Oh, and he also worked on a merchant ship.
Sigurd looked at the sailboat, patted Ed on the shoulder, shook his head, and motioned for them to board.
"Uncle Hols often transports goods between the surrounding islands on this ship. Sometimes I go with him as a sailor."
As they chatted, they crossed the gangplank and stepped onto the deck. As for the heavy wheat sack, Ed had long since pushed it back to Sigurd; there was no way he was carrying such a burden.
"Hurry up, you lazy lot! Check the cables and locks, and you—!"
A rough-looking middle-aged man was barking orders at the sailors. Ed didn't recognize him, so he likely wasn't from the island. He wore an ordinary linen short-sleeved shirt and shorts, with a sheathed long knife at his waist.
Suddenly, he noticed the two idle figures standing before him and was about to include them in his scolding.
"Oh, it's you, Sigurd. You're here."
He smiled and walked over to hug Sigurd. Then he noticed Ed. "And this is...?"
"This is my brother, Ed," Sigurd introduced with a bright smile.
Ed quickly extended his hand. "Edward Darkmore. Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you. Sigurd's brother is my brother. Just call me Toefl."
He gripped Ed's hand with his broad palm and shook it vigorously twice; his demeanor was very enthusiastic.
Sigurd added, "He came of age two years ago, but he's only just gotten my mother's permission to wander. So I brought him aboard to see the world."
Toefl nodded in understanding and laughed. "A man of the sea can only become a true man in a storm, hahaha!"
After a few more pleasantries, a bell-like ding-dong sound came from the bow. Hearing it, Toefl hurriedly said, "I've got work to do. I'm off," With that, he left.
Before Ed could turn around, a rough voice shouted, "Set sail!"
Sigurd pulled Ed forward. "We're setting off. It'll be bumpy, so find something to hold onto and stand firm."
Before Ed could finish, he had no time to grab the railing beside him. With a swish, the sail was unfurled. Catching the wind, the canvas billowed, pushing the sailboat out of the port.
Seeing that Ed hadn't held onto anything to steady himself, Sigurd immediately reached out to grab him, worried that as a first-timer, he might fall. The rocking and jolting of the ship could easily toss someone unaccustomed to it.
But as Sigurd's hand reached him, he saw Ed's legs planted firmly on the deck as if nailed there, not swaying an inch with the boat's motion.
"Have you been on a ship before?" Sigurd asked in surprise.
Ed shook his head with a frown. He just felt that this slight rocking wouldn't throw off his balance. Thinking this, he couldn't help but touch the ring on his left thumb. It seemed the balance and coordination it provided were incredibly useful at sea. He hadn't expected this attribute to be the first to demonstrate its strange power.
With this in mind, he began to walk across the deck of the newly departed, still-unsteady ship. The sensation of moving steadily on a shifting surface was strange, especially with the queasy feeling in his stomach, as if everything inside were sloshing like waves.
"Sigurd, look at his posture. He's a natural-born seafarer, like an old salt."
Ed turned toward the voice and saw a middle-aged man with messy hair and a well-groomed beard streaked with white striding over. His clothing clearly set him apart from the sailors: a brown-gray leather coat and a hat resembling a captain's.
A simple, ancient-looking long knife hung at his waist on his sturdy frame. However, one of his eyes was dark, and a purple mark, as if from a solid punch, blotched his left cheek.
Without waiting for Sigurd's reply, he came to Ed's side, clapped him on the shoulder, and felt the muscle there.
"Ed, my boy, why not come work on my ship? Treasure hunting might not be for a thin, weak fellow like you. Hahaha!"
This was the ship's captain, Hols, also an island resident, a shameless drunk who had just been soundly beaten by the tavern owner the day before for groping his wife's backside.
Sigurd quickly stepped forward, his expression and tone rather smug. "Uncle Hols, you don't know this, but Ed is a real treasure hunter now, and a rich one at that."
He patted Ed's chest proudly, as if he himself had found the treasure, and proceeded to tell Hols about Ed finding the magician's treasure a few days prior, even though someone had gotten there first.
"Good lad, not bad! I never thought you'd actually find it. I underestimated you before... Well, everyone did, but it's still good to be rich at your age."
Hols looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. He never expected the kid who used to play treasure-hunting games and spout nonsense all day would become a genuine treasure hunter.
Ed laughed immediately, adopting a boastful tone while inwardly cursing Sigurd for being a blabbermouth. How could someone as smart as Aunt Marcy have such a foolish son?
"No, no, you flatter me. It was just a small find."
Seeing that Ed was still as naive and good-natured as ever, Hols shook his head with a smile, chuckled, patted his shoulder, and took his leave.
Sigurd pulled Ed toward the stern before he could say anything else. Passing sailors who greeted them, they arrived at a small storeroom filled with various iron tools, a veritable workshop. On several wooden shelves, long sailor knives hung securely.
Sigurd walked over, selected two decent-looking sheathed short knives, and handed one to Ed.
"Why are you giving this to me...?" Ed asked disdainfully. If possible, he'd rather not speak to this loose-lipped companion, but alas, he had no choice, given their brother-like relationship.
Seeing Ed's expression, Sigurd, who had already realized his mistake, offered an apologetic smile. "Don't look at me like that. I already apologized, and Uncle Hols is one of us; you don't need to worry about him. But still, I'll be more careful next time... Anyway, this is the sea. It's full of dangers. You can't protect yourself without a weapon. So here."
Hearing Sigurd's sincere apology, Ed shook his head with a helpless smile and took the knife, examining it. It was more of a short blade, probably shorter than an adult's forearm. The wider blade was curved, with a D-shaped guard extending to the grip. It was a weapon good for slashing, and its shorter length made it useful in confined spaces.
He drew the blade from its scabbard; cold steel gleamed.
"But I don't know how to use a weapon," Said Ed helplessly, who was holding such an implement for the first time in either of his lives, his brow furrowed.
"It's fine. It's mainly to give you courage. If you really run into danger, you'll at least have some confidence, right?" Sigurd said with a smile as he adjusted the short knife in his own hand. "And this kind of knife just needs to cut. It doesn't take much skill. Even just swinging it wildly can hurt an enemy."
Ed nodded with an understanding look. Though he said that, he still liked it. After all, it was a real, sharp weapon. He held it, gauging its weight, and even struck a few poses. Even if he couldn't use it, he could always sell it for some extra coin. For him right now, every little bit helped.