Ed stood on the deck, a sailor's knife worn at his waist. One hand rested on the hilt, the other on the gunwale as he faced the sea breeze, trying to look cool. He observed everything on the boat, his eyes full of curiosity; it was all new to him. After all, whether in his previous life or his present one, this was the first time he had boarded such a large sailing ship, though the condition of his poor stomach was still not too good.
The ship's shape was not like the galleons he had seen in movies or anime, but rather resembled an earlier carrack. The bow and stern were significantly higher than the mid-deck, creating a pronounced concave profile. Alongside it ran cables as thick as a man's forearm, stretching tautly upwards to the railing. A web of rigging crisscrossed above the ship, imposing order on the chaos.
On the main mast amidships, three huge sails of decreasing size from bottom to top billowed in the sea breeze. A secondary mast at the stern was nearly identical, though slightly shorter, with a smaller sail. The mast and sail arrangement seemed more akin to a galleon, creating a strange hybrid design.
Ed watched sailors standing on the rounded watchtower high on the main boom, scanning the horizon. As the ship swayed gently, he could already imagine what it felt like to be up there. The crew around him observed his wide-eyed fascination with amusement, shaking their heads.
They saw their former selves in him, though they had to admit none had dared to inspect the ship as if it were their birthright. Ed moved between leaning against the railing to watch the sea and wandering the deck to scrutinize their work, all without lifting a finger to help. It seemed unbearably arrogant.
"How's your first time on a ship? Interesting, isn't it?" Sigurd walked over, standing beside Ed and adjusting the sailor's knife at his own waist. "Hehehe, by the way, how's your stomach? Still feel like vomiting?"
Ed watched the white waves breaking against the bow, then glanced at Sigurd, who was rubbing salt in the wound. He nodded while rubbing his forehead. "It's a novel experience. I've never been on such a large sailboat before, but the experience isn't worth mentioning. I think I'll skip dinner tonight; otherwise, I might become morally opposed by everyone on board by sunrise."
Hearing this, Sigurd burst out laughing, clapping poor Ed on the back before walking off without offering any advice. This heartless man only acted kind and innocent when Aunt Marcy was around; otherwise, he was no different from any older sibling who enjoyed watching a younger one suffer.
However, two minutes later, Sigurd seemed to remember something and returned with a smile. "It'll take two or three days to reach our destination, so have as much fun as you can. Also, if you want to rest, use the room I showed you earlier."
Annoyed, Ed drew his knife from his waist, intending to throw it, but Sigurd displayed unbelievable agility and was already gone. Sighing helplessly, Ed turned back to the sea and continued experiencing his fresh life aboard the ship. Gazing at the endless water, he muttered with a bitter smile, "It's really interesting. I live in a world of ocean, yet I have seasickness. What a joke!"
...
"Is it still interesting?"
"Not anymore."
Ed leaned weakly against the ship's stern as if a strong wind might blow him away, utterly bored.
On the first day, the novelty of ship life, the endless sea, blue sky, and swimming fish, had helped him combat his minor seasickness. After all, he had never seen the ocean in his previous life. But as time passed, his body failed to adapt, and his condition only worsened.
The second day, things spiraled further out of control. He hadn't eaten anything for a full day, drinking only water, which often came back up the same way it went in whenever the ship rode over a large wave.
Now, on the third day, his condition was visibly pessimistic. Forget enjoying ship life; he'd heard unfavorable winds might delay their arrival by an extra day. The news enraged him so much that he nearly mustered his remaining energy to throw Sigurd overboard, if only the damn bastard weren't so fast. He didn't want to stay on this cursed ship a second longer.
A day or two was manageable, but prolonged confinement was torture for someone who couldn't sit still. It was a living hell, especially with the seasickness showing no signs of relenting, only growing stronger.
Ed is now worried that if this continues, he'd lose significant weight. Upon his return, both Aunt Marcy and Raila would eat him alive with their incessant complaints. Forget becoming a treasure hunter; they might never let him near the port again.
The sea was dangerous enough with its monsters, pirates, robbers, and psychopaths who killed for fun. But for a poor guy who couldn't fight and got seasick, sending him to sea was no different from telling him to commit suicide.
To distract himself from his churning stomach, Ed even tried participating in the sailors' entertainment. But after observing their idea of fun, he simply moaned for two minutes and walked away. Though the men ranged from 20 to 40 years old, their activities were no different from 80-year-old grandfathers'. Those bastards didn't even have interesting topics to discuss that might lift Ed's gloomy mood, which darkened with every passing second.
Before going insane, he retreated to his room and began practicing the magic he'd learned from the ring. It was the only thing that helped pass the time. He decided that once they reached the island, he would buy many time-killers, especially books, lots of books.
He held little hope for this era's entertainment industry, so he resolved to read this world's literature and even transcribe famous works from his previous world. After all, he had nothing better to do. If someone someday offered good money for them, he wouldn't mind making them rich, and earning a fortune for himself in the process.
...
Tofel, overhearing the two men's conversation, walked over and said with a smile, "Haha, this is the sea. A strong seaman must endure this kind of spiritual training. The boring periods prepare you for the passion that comes at any time."
Ed, whose face looked as if he had lost all hope in life and was ready to book a ticket to another world, had no energy to listen. He was trying to conserve his remaining strength, even hiring an assistant to help him move around the ship for fresh air, which offered his poor body some relief.
After three days, everyone on board knew about Ed's condition. They no longer mocked the rookie who wanted to work at sea but suffered from seasickness; now, they felt pure sympathy. But after three days, even that had turned to indifference, and they mostly offered empty encouragement before ignoring him.
Sigurd, whom Ed had hired as an assistant, thought of something and asked, "Is this sea area unsafe recently?"
Tofel nodded seriously. "There have been pirates on this route lately. Several members of the Homeland were killed some time ago."
Hearing this, Sigurd's face turned grim, and he nodded gravely.
"Homeland?" Ed muttered weakly.
After Tofel left, Ed asked in a low voice, still lying on the deck like a dead dog, "Are there pirates in this area?" Though he didn't want to talk, this was a serious matter, and he didn't want to remain completely ignorant.
"Which sea area doesn't have pirates? They're like rats in the sea, everywhere, and we can never get rid of them. Destroy one, and two pop up later. It's an endless cycle," Sigurd said angrily, sitting behind Ed and hammering his fist on a wooden board.
"What did you mean by 'Homeland members'?" Ed was more interested in this question. It sounded impressive, like a big deal worth his attention.
Hearing this, Sigurd looked at Ed with a strange expression, as if observing the rarest animal in a zoo, one he'd desperately wanted to see in real life but that now seemed completely different from his expectations. He pointed at Ed's pale face, then at himself. "That's us. We are the people of Homeland Island."
Ed suddenly remembered that Golden Wheat Island was also called Homeland Island. But why it was called that, he had no idea or memory. All he knew was the name itself, which seemed strange.
At that moment, Sigurd patted Ed on the head. "The things you asked me to help with yesterday are done. Let's go take a look."
"Really? That's great... Hey, where are you going? Who's going to carry me, you idiot? Have you no pity for my condition, you heartless bastard? Just wait; I'm definitely telling Aunt Marcy about this."
Upon hearing this threat, which Ed had uttered maybe ten times in the past two days, Sigurd sighed helplessly, rolled his eyes, and helped him stand. Half carrying Ed, he dragged him toward the stern, where the captain's office was located, and knocked on the door from outside.