Notice:
1. Maintain order and queue properly; 2. No spitting, urinating, or defecating in public; 3. If you have any problems, ask a guard to help resolve them; 4. Under no circumstances may you open Wolf Fish Canned Food!
Inside a ferry company's ticket hall, Lorne stared at the last rule on the noticeboard, his brows drawing together involuntarily.
"I understand the others, but what's Wolf Fish Canned Food?" Lorne muttered in mild confusion.
"You don't know? It's one of the most famous foods at sea."
The question came from behind Lorne.
Surprised that someone had struck up a conversation with him, Lorne turned to look the man over.
He was a middle-aged man who looked older than his years. His cheeks, hands, and every other patch of exposed skin were a deep bronze, with a texture as rough as sandpaper.
He wore a faded uniform, and the badge on his chest had become indistinct-clearly, he was one of the guards mentioned on the noticeboard.
He looked at Lorne with a broad smile and spoke with easy familiarity.
"Wolf Fish Canned Food is legendary at sea. Everyone who sails knows about it."
"But I don't!" Lorne spread his hands in a gesture of bewilderment.
"That's how I can tell you're a novice. If you want to make a living at sea, you need to know these basics."
With the air of an old hand, the guard explained to Lorne:
"It's a food popular along Feysac's east coast, in the Gargas Islands, and places like that. It's salt-cured wolf fish, but they leave the bloody juices in. The smell is very, very, very pungent. Foul and disgusting."
Understanding dawned on Lorne. Isn't that just this world's version of canned fermented herring...? The description immediately reminded him of a notorious culinary horror