Before Reinette Tinekerr brought back Silas's reply, Klein had already begun making preparations.
He carefully studied Elaine Soren's psychology, thinking through how to perfectly imitate the expressions and bearing the woman ought to have.
Along the way, at the port of Bayam, he caught a lucky pirate and fed him to Creeping Hunger; once aboard Tracy's ship, that would still prove very useful.
"Shhk."
A gust of cold wind swept through, and a tall figure in an elaborate black mourning gown forced herself out from the void, one of her heads clenched around Silas's reply.
That was fast.
Klein thought to himself, reaching out to take it, only to feel a faint resistance.
Somewhat surprised, he found all four of the messenger lady's heads turned toward him at once.
"On his." "Body." "There lingers." "The scent of an Evil God."
An Evil God?
Silas had been fighting all sorts of Evil Gods lately; it wasn't strange for some trace to linger on him.
But wait, the last time he'd had her deliver a letter, she hadn't been nearly this concerned. Which meant this was an Evil God Silas had encountered recently?
"You mean the 'Mother Tree of Desire,' don't you."
Klein recalled what Silas had told him at the transmigrators' gathering. "He was just attacked by Her not long ago."
"But he." "Doesn't look." "Like he's been." "Corroded."
The messenger lady went on, an odd expression on her face.
Ah, she probably wanted to ask why Silas, having been attacked by an Evil God, could still keep his mind intact. Don't ask me, I'd like to know too, he's been like that since Tingen!
Klein caught her meaning and smiled. "He has his own secrets, naturally."
At the same time, Klein felt a flicker of curiosity. All this while, Reinette Tinekerr had come across as thoroughly indifferent, yet now she showed a clear emotional reaction to the "Desire Mother Tree." Why was that?
"..."
The messenger lady stared deeply at Klein with four heads and eight eyes. She said nothing more, only stepped back and withdrew from the material world.
If you really care that much, why not just ask him yourself. Klein muttered to himself as he tore open the envelope.
Pat.
Out of the envelope fell a peculiar talisman carved with mysterious patterns. It felt soft and warm to the touch, even giving off a sense of living flesh and blood.
Hiss.
Klein unfolded the accompanying letter, on which Silas had written, quite briefly:
[Carry this with you when you board the ship. I can pinpoint its location through it. The activation incantation is the Hermes word for "Puppet."]
————
"Anderson, gather everyone. We're setting off."
"Setting off? To where?"
"Not sure yet. Just get the ship moving in that direction for now."
Sensing the bearing of his own talisman, Silas raised a finger and pointed south.
"Huh?"
Anderson gave his captain a rather speechless look, but seeing that the man's attitude was no joke, he asked again, "And the target?"
"The target is to kill Vice Admiral Ailment, Tracy, and utterly destroy her fleet."
Silas said it lightly, as though it were nothing.
Anderson froze for a moment, then quickly caught himself.
"Aye, sir!"
He hurried out of the captain's cabin and began calling the crew together.
Noise soon spread outside: footsteps running across the deck, chants as the sails were hoisted, sailors shouting as they checked supplies, and of course, no shortage of coarse cursing back and forth.
After a burst of bustling activity, Silas felt the deck sway beneath his feet, and the view outside the window began sliding backward.
The sea wind was good today. He hoped the fleet could arrive in time.
After that, Silas stayed in the captain's cabin the whole while. Every so often, he sensed the talisman's position and adjusted their heading accordingly. Truth be told, it was rather dull and tedious.
"Medici, are you awake? Come out and talk with me."
Silas called out silently to the ghost within him.
Medici gave a scornful laugh.
"I don't think the two of us have gotten friendly enough for that."
He said.
"You and I are in a cooperative relationship right now. It's only reasonable that we communicate now and then."
Silas ignored the mockery in his tone. "Actually, I have a few questions I'd like to consult you on."
"Consult me? Heh, what a polite choice of words."
Medici laughed. "But why should I tell you anything?"
"Because of this."
Silas opened his palm, and there in his hand a vial of blood gleamed a resplendent red beneath the sunlight. It was the blood of "Elaine," blood from a direct descendant of the Soren family.
"Hm?"
In the next instant, Silas immediately sensed a strange stirring in the ghost within him. It stretched out its spiritual awareness, examining that vial of blood closely.
"This is... the scent of my own blood kin."
The ancestral angel of the Soren family spoke, its voice low.
"Well? Do you want it or not?"
Silas smiled. "If you want it, then answer my questions properly."
Medici had once demanded before that Silas bring Sophia, the direct descendant of the Einhorn family, aboard the ship.
So he'd guessed that the blood of descendants must hold some importance for this three-in-one ghost.
"Medici, answer him."
"Stop acting like a useless lump. Make yourself worth something for once."
Before Medici could respond, the lingering spiritual remnants of the other two ancestors couldn't hold themselves back and spoke up directly.
"No matter how useless I am, I'm still better than the two of you wastes. The only thing you two are good for is flapping your jaws and spouting nonsense." Medici mocked the pair first, then turned to address Silas.
"Fine, you win. What do you want to know? Better make it something worthwhile, or I won't bother answering. Heh..."
He's finally willing to answer. Klein's blood sample hadn't been drawn for nothing.
Silas took a deep breath, steadied his mind a little, and slowly spoke: "Who was it that seduced the 'Dark Angel,' leading to her betrayal? And what connection does the 'Dark Angel' have to the Redemption Rose?"
This was information the Sun had learned at "Afternoon Town." Silas wanted to hear a clearer answer straight from the one who'd been there.
Medici's laughter cut off abruptly, as if he'd been struck in the face and gone silent all at once.
"...Where did you learn about something like that?"
After a moment, he asked coldly.
"Medici, is your memory failing you? Right now, I believe I'm the one asking the questions."
Silas certainly wasn't about to tell him.
"..."
Medici said nothing more. Though he remained lodged within Silas's body, an invisible pressure began seeping outward from him, and the atmosphere in the captain's cabin grew heavy.
"Meow."
Luna, who had been lying curled up, was startled awake.
She instinctively rose, wanting to run to Silas's side for comfort, but after only a few steps she realized the source of the danger was Silas himself, and she hesitated, caught in indecision.
"Captain!"
Anderson's voice came from outside. "It's been ten minutes, should we adjust course?"
"Turn three more degrees west."
Silas replied.
Once Anderson had left, he continued speaking inwardly. "So. About that answer of yours?"