Old Friend

At a time like this, the most direct and effective way would have been to find Evan himself and ask him plainly. But Gell was torn between hope and fear, and he was also afraid of making a fool of himself.

It would not have mattered much if he ended up hurting himself again, but as the captain of this warship, it would have been inappropriate to drag an entirely unrelated, outstanding young man into his private emotions.

In truth, if that one-in-ten-thousand chance was real—if the Goddess had truly blessed him and he had found his old friend Forman's son—he had not yet figured out what attitude he should take toward him.

Fortunately, because of his earlier orders, the victors were cleaning the deck, so there should have been no one in the room.

Tap... tap... tap...

Boatswain Chris found it a little strange. Gell had clearly seemed anxious in the captain's cabin, yet he was walking far more slowly than usual, with none of his usual decisive efficiency.

But no matter how slowly one walked, one would eventually reach one's destination.

The boatswain did not ask any questions. He silently took out a spare key and opened Evan's door. As the sailors' supervisor, he had that much authority.

After inviting Gell inside alone, Chris, who understood the ways of subordinates well, did not linger. He closed the door for him and turned to leave, clearly having no desire to pry into his superior's secrets.

As one of the few Cadet Officers aboard the Silver Wing, Evan's living conditions were fairly decent. At the very least, he had a wooden bed and a desk, far better than the ordinary sailors' hammocks.

Gell entered the room and immediately spotted the luggage Evan had left on the wooden bed without having time to sort through it.

He took two swift steps forward and carefully untied the bundle.

There was nothing valuable inside. Like many young sailors of common birth, it was pitifully shabby. In fact, Evan carried all his valuables on him, such as the large Gold Note Captain Joseph had handed him after disposing of the Blood Anchor.

A few changes of clothes, an assortment of potion bottles, loose coins, and the like—there was nothing that could prove his identity, leaving Gell slightly disappointed.

"Should I really ask him myself?" Gell hesitated, instinctively resisting a choice that might shatter all his hopes once again.

Fortunately, what he found next meant he no longer needed to struggle with the question. At the very bottom of the luggage, inside a concealed inner pocket, he discovered a small hide pouch tightly bound with a worn leather cord.

The angular feel of it and the metallic clink from within made him seem to realize what it contained. His hands trembling slightly, he opened the little pouch and poured out its contents.

A signet ring symbolizing the inheritance of noble rights, a brass wax seal, and a noble family crest. In the fading sunset light filtering through the porthole, he could make out the emblem engraved upon it: a massive sea serpent surrounded by waves, with an upright fin growing from its back.

A symbol that even heraldists might have struggled to identify in a short time struck his heart like lightning!

"He isn't dead. He isn't dead. He really isn't dead...!"

Holding those objects in both hands, Gell's eyes reddened as he muttered to himself.

Drip, drip...

Hot tears fell, striking his palms. At some point, this man, as strong and dependable as granite, had begun sobbing uncontrollably.

"Thank the Goddess! Forman, your son is still alive—!"

"Phew! Finally finished!" Evan wrung out the rag in his hand and let out a soft breath. He had never expected his first job after boarding a warship to be cleaning the deck. What a dark chapter in his history.

"Sorry, Boss. I dragged you into being punished with me." Gary had also finished his share of the work. He awkwardly came over to apologize to Evan.

"I just praised you for being manly, and now you're acting all awkward again. On this ship, we're one unit. Why divide things into yours and mine? Go back and rest. Do you need me to go back with you again?"

Evan shot Gary a glare and scolded him with a smile.

"Hehehe, no, no. When I carried them back, quite a few people already volunteered to recognize me as their Boss. If anyone still refuses to behave, I'll just beat them up again." Gary rubbed his hands together, indicating that he could handle it.

Looking at Gary, whose violent tendencies were gradually awakening, Evan did not know whether to laugh or cry. Was he going to turn this guy into a violent maniac?

He could only offer a silent prayer for the brothers who shared a berth with him. Evan himself was powerless to help.

The boatswain had said that the Silver Wing had just returned to port today, and the crew had all gone ashore to have some fun. The welcome banquet would probably have to wait until tomorrow.

The two could only return to their cabins separately. Looking at the deepening night outside, Evan thought he would have to find some way to deal with dinner. He also had no idea what the food aboard ship was like.

Lost in random thoughts, Evan had just reached the door to his cabin when his expression suddenly changed. The lock on his door was open. Someone had entered his room!

He had only boarded the ship today and knew absolutely nothing about the situation aboard. Was it a thief or one of their own? Could some old soldier still be looking to take revenge on him?

Unable to determine whether the intruder was friend or foe, Evan slowly drew the sword at his waist and gently pushed open the door.

Then... he closed it again.

"Whoosh..."

What was going on? Why was a grown man crying in his room? And why did he look vaguely familiar? Aside from Gary, did he know anyone else aboard this ship?

He took two steps back and checked the brass plaque on the door again. With Data Vision, Evan was practically an expert at spotting flaws. There was no way he could make such a basic mistake as entering the wrong room.

He stroked his chin and thought for a while, confirming that there was nothing valuable in his luggage. The only somewhat valuable things were the family crest and seal, the last items connected to the Garratt Family that had remained from his time on the run. Now they were merely keepsakes. There was no longer any territory for them to exercise their functions over, and to anyone else, they were no different from scrap metal.

After confirming there was probably no danger, Evan sheathed his sword, pushed open the door again, and walked inside.

The man was still in the room.

But the scene was completely different now. He sat upright on Evan's bed with a stern expression, as though he were not in a bedroom but in a command room on the battlefield.

Evan almost doubted his own eyes. Had seeing him sobbing his heart out just now been an illusion?

Evan had not met most of the sailors aboard ship, but he recognized the field officer's uniform the man wore. He had not noticed it earlier, but now he could not pretend not to see it. No matter what, he could not violate basic military discipline.

Evan immediately stood at attention and saluted. "Greetings, sir!"

Then Evan felt this officer scanning him from head to toe for quite some time. Just as goosebumps were about to rise on his skin, the man finally spoke slowly.

"Evan Garratt?"

"Uh... yes." Although this officer's tone felt strange and the man himself seemed rather odd, Evan thought that he would basically be serving under him from now on. When you're under someone else's roof, you have no choice but to bow your head. Endure it!

Though a stranger had confirmed his name, Evan did not find anything amiss. Most people connected to that name were already dead. The only possible connection left was the enemy far away in Iliya, and their arms were not that long.