The White Oak steamed on through the mist, its powerful steam core driving the vast and efficient propulsion system that sliced swiftly through the fog-laden waters.
The sky had darkened imperceptibly, and the chill wind on the sea made one increasingly uncomfortable. Lawrence tightened his coat, deciding he had spent enough time on deck and turned to enter the bridge.
A young priest clad in a black robe edged with silver and blue patterns was praying beside a machine, gently swaying an incense burner in his hand, enveloping several control panels in smoke. Upon seeing the captain, he stopped and nodded politely to Lawrence.
