Bairon glanced at Evelyn, who was still soundly asleep on the bed, and nodded in response, "I will."
"Let's go, Anna," Margaret said, taking Anna's hand.
Anna stealthily shot a curious glance at Bairon as they departed.
Once they were out of sight, Bairon closed the door and returned to his desk.
At that moment, Evelyn stirred awake, her tousled hair casting a shadow over her deep black eyes.
"Awake now? Fancy some chilled milk?" Bairon offered.
It was the peak of summer, and it was improbable for the White Gull to have a cold storage.
But that posed no challenge for Bairon.
With Charlotte's guidance, he had come to understand the foundational rules of the magus world.
Consequently, every time he used Ice Blast, his comprehension and ability to modify the Ice Blast Magic Circuit vastly improved.
After continuous training in the Dark Tower world, Bairon's control over creating ice with Ice Blast became increasingly sophisticated, to the point where he could conjure it at will.
Both Old John and Charlotte concurred that Bairon's mastery over the intricate manipulation of "Ice Blast" was at the level of a Master Magus.
However, after achieving this refined control over "Ice Blast", Bairon's first instinct wasn't combat.
Instead, he fetched a small wooden box, crafted an icy environment within it, and stored some of Evelyn's favorite beverages and snacks.
This icy storage would last for about three hours.
As soon as the ice began to melt, Bairon would simply replenish it.
Yet, such actions would drain a significant amount of Mindergy.
Even Old John chose to remain silent upon discovering such an extravagant use of power.
Evelyn shook her head in response.
"Would you like to step outside for some fresh air?" Bairon suggested, knowing well that the confinement of the cabin was stifling not only to Anna but to Evelyn as well.
However, Evelyn, not wanting to worry Bairon, often chose to bear such discomforts in silence.
She shook her head again.
"Alright then. Margaret dropped off a wooden box earlier, a gift for us. Would you like to open it and see what's inside?" Bairon inquired further.
"Where's Mrs. Jona?" Evelyn asked as she sat up on the bed.
"She's on the deck. They're about to dock at Sail Town, their destination," Bairon responded.
A look of envy briefly crossed Evelyn's face.
Bairon's heart ached seeing it, but he dared not let Evelyn disembark for a leisurely exploration.
Two distinct individuals had already indicated that the recovered individual was of advanced age, which meant Bairon didn't have much time left.
"Brother, there's a Golden Ticket in the box, and a letter too," Evelyn remarked.
Snapping back to the present, Bairon turned his attention to the wooden box.
Inside was a Golden Ticket from the Provincial Alliance Bank, valued at a thousand gold coins, along with a letter that seemed to have been prepared in advance.
He skimmed through the letter, "It's a letter of introduction written by Margaret Jona on her behalf, addressed to her relatives in San Sorus. Its purpose is to ensure we have a place to stay when we reach San Sorus."
"It seems we have a place to stay," Bairon chuckled.
However, Evelyn seemed a bit displeased.
Accepting too many favors often meant repaying them in kind, and Bairon had received far too many gifts on Evelyn's behalf that he shouldn't have.
Suddenly, a heart-wrenching scream echoed from the ship's deck.
It was followed by a flurry of chaotic footsteps and excited shouts.
In the vast isolation of the open sea, any significant disturbance could set the ship's passengers and crew on edge.
Bairon was no exception. He felt compelled to investigate.
"Um, do you want to come out too?" Bairon initially intended for Evelyn to stay inside the room, but upon seeing the eagerness in her eyes, realizing she felt stifled staying aboard, he asked.
Evelyn nodded vigorously.
"Let's go together, then!"
With one hand holding Evelyn's and the other briefly touching the wooden box gifted by Margaret, the box vanished instantly.
Within the realm of the Dark Tower.
A wooden box materialized out of thin air.
"Hey, lad, are you using this place as your dumping ground?!" Old John complained, clearly disgruntled.
However, Bairon couldn't hear him at all.
...
Aboard the White Gull, every man held some form of illumination, from small candles to even large torches.
Their faces were painted with excitement, sheer exhilaration.
They seemed oblivious to the danger, not fearing that an accidental spark could set the ship aflame.
This was the scene Bairon stepped into as he reached the deck.
A man brandishing a torch approached, his gaze fixed intently on Bairon.
He then shifted his attention to Evelyn, who was wearing a mask resembling the Elf Queen.
Reaching out, he tried to lift the mask.
"What do you think you're doing?" Bairon swiftly grabbed his wrist, his voice icy.
The man leered, "Just checking if she's an Elf."
"Check your own damn self!"
With a surge of Flesh magic, Bairon flung the torch-bearing man with a single move.
The man crashed through a section of the ship's railing, plunging into the inky depths of the sea.
A stunned silence enveloped the previously noisy deck.
"What have you done?!" A burly man shouted.
Bairon retorted, "I should be asking you all what the hell you think you're doing, playing with fire on a ship. Where's the captain?!"
"I'm right here. And I'd like to know what's happening as well." A somewhat drowsy-looking Frank emerged from the cabin, his face twisted in anger. "Where's my first mate? Get out here!"
"Right here, Frank," a gaunt man in a sailor's uniform stepped forward, a torch in his hand.
"Have you lost your mind, leading this lot in this dangerous game? Do you want to sink the White Gull?!" Frank bellowed.
The first mate smirked confidently, "I'm not mad. Trust me, Frank. If you knew what was happening tonight, you'd be right beside me."
"Then enlighten me!" Frank adjusted his clothing and ordered, "Some of you, get that unfortunate soul out of the water."
Frank didn't care whether the man was dead or alive.
The order was a means to reassert his control over the ship.
Bairon noticed, as Frank pretended to fix his clothing, he was actually trying to steady his trembling hands.
While the ship's crew and passengers had been stirred into a frenzy, he, their captain, remained in the dark.
"There's an Elf on board!" the first mate declared with a smirk.
Frank paused for a few seconds, "All this for that?"
"Isn't that reason enough?" the first mate asked, puzzled.
Frank queried, "No mermaids or pirate treasure maps then?"
"No, no, Frank, I'm serious. There's a real Elf on board!" the first mate asserted with conviction.
The other men holding torches and candles nodded in agreement.
"First mate, how many times have we been to Aule Harbor together? And how many times have you seen an Elf?" Frank took a deep breath, "Let me give you the numbers: 354 visits, 0 Elves."
"This time it's true. We have a witness!" the first mate retorted.
"Who?" Frank's eyes held a hint of menace.
Then, to his astonishment, a familiar figure stepped forward.
"Young Master Dave Padorn?" Frank exclaimed.
What shocked him even more was that Dave was clutching his legs, blood dripping from between his hands.
"That bitch, she's an Elf!" Dave's face twisted in rage.
Frank inquired, "Which bitch are you referring to?"
"The one who played the Elf Queen in that play!" Dave shouted, "She was supposed to be with me tonight. But when I discovered her pointed ears were real, I realized she truly is an Elf!"
"After I confronted her, she attacked me with a dagger and fled my room!"
Bairon couldn't help but burst into laughter.
"What's so funny, bumpkin?" Dave snapped.
"Elves are innate magus, not courtesans," Bairon replied coldly.
Dave's claim that the woman who climbed into his bed was an Elf was not only an insult to the Elves but also a disgrace to magus.
More crucially, Bairon was certain there were no Elves on this ship.
"Perhaps she just fell for my charms!" Dave shouted defiantly.
Bairon retorted, "There are countless tales of Elves becoming smitten with humans, even leading to the birth of many half-Elf offspring. But Mr. Padorn, forgive my bluntness, even a half-Elf wouldn't spare you a second glance. Your appearance doesn't seem the kind to find true love."
"Guards! Kill him!" Dave Padorn roared.
A burly man, with a knight's sword strapped to his waist, stepped forward.
"Enough!" Frank bellowed, positioning himself between Bairon and the approaching guard.
With a stern face, he said, "Young Master Padorn, you've been injured. I believe we should expedite our journey to Sail Town so you can seek medical attention."
"As for this torch-wielding spectacle, it must end immediately. This is a wooden ship, for heaven's sake. Even a four-year-old would know how easily wood can catch fire!" Frank stared at the torches, his eyes twitching with exasperation.