If one turned one's back to the sea and did not look at the ruined town, Fire Island's scenery was still beautiful.
Of course, if one set aside one's moral qualms and included the ruined town in the view, purely as a visual composition, it could also be "beautiful."
Kallen believed that if his future father-in-law, Mr. Bede, were here, he would probably already have sat down on this little hillside, set up his drawing board, and begun creating.
Fortunately, Mavario had no such inclination. He sat with his back to the town, facing the sea, with a wineskin beside him.
The afternoon sea breeze brushed over him and stirred his hair, looking youthful and gentle.
"Sit."
"Yes, mentor."
Kallen sat down beside Mavario.
Mavario handed the wineskin to Kallen. "Want a taste?"
Kallen took it, opened it, and drank a mouthful.
"How does it taste?"
Kallen wiped his lips with the back of his hand and answered, "Awful."
The wine was not only cloudy but sour enough to set his teeth on edge, with a very strange taste.
Kallen did not normally drink, but he could probably still distinguish "good" wine from "bad," or at least "expensive" from "cheap."
"Yes, it really isn't good. I took it from the wine cellar. It was probably made from bananas and other ingredients using very crude brewing methods."
"Then it must have been intended for impoverished pirates who couldn't get any business, and by now it's become a traditional drink?"
"There are memories of this wine among Lord Marchetini's memory fragments. He liked it very much. I used to go out of my way to find it and taste it from time to time. Unfortunately, I've never managed to like the taste either. However much I drink it, I can't get used