"What's the deal with that pitiable Dave?" Stephen inquired.
Bairon, expressionless, replied, "Who knows? Maybe a rat bit him, but the incident was too embarrassing, so he chose to deceive everyone with a lie."
"Ha! An amusing theory, I'll jot that down in my notes. However, that poor theatre troupe member has indeed gone missing," Stephen stated seriously.
Bairon halted, fixing Stephen with a steady gaze.
Stephen blinked in response. After a brief standoff, Bairon suggested, "You can add that to your notes as well."
"No, that would make the story too clichéd!" Stephen chuckled, then added, "How about this, Battle Magus? We collaborate. You ensure our safety, and I find that Elf. I'll craft our adventure into a story, and we'll split the proceeds from its sale."
"Not interested," Bairon rejected the proposal succinctly.
"Why? Don't you like money?" Stephen asked.
"There's no one in this world who would refuse gold coins," Bairon responded, echoing Frank's earlier words.
He then asked, "But how much can one expect from an article's proceeds?"
"A lot!" Stephen asserted.
"Give me a number."
"Alright, truth be told, it isn't about the money. Upon my return to San Sorus, I must present a captivating article; otherwise, my work will no longer be published," Stephen admitted, his posture suddenly deflated.
"Then I suggest you find another magazine," Bairon remarked, recalling the poorly made business card Stephen had given him.
It was genuine advice – he doubted the magazine would last long.
"No, I have reasons to stay with them!" Stephen declared, his fists clenched.
"Very well, good luck to you," Bairon wished him well, steering Evelyn around him.
"In San Sorus, besides Mrs. Howard, there might be another survivor of Greyscale!" Stephen called out from behind.
Bairon paused once more, turning to lock eyes with Stephen. "Might be?"
"It's a rumor. This significant figure rarely makes public appearances. But rumors don't come from thin air, do they?" Stephen proposed.
"We'll help, but only for tonight," Bairon conceded.
"Deal!"
Stephen snapped his fingers, exclaiming with zest, "The 'Mysteries of the Open Sea: The Tale of White Gull and the Elf' investigation officially begins!"
"Is that the title you plan on giving your piece?" Bairon inquired, hinting that if Stephen indeed went with that title, he might as well prepare for dismissal.
"You don't understand; modern readers prefer concise, straightforward, and relatable titles!" Stephen defended.
Bairon didn't continue the argument, instead turning to approach Margaret with Evelyn. "Mrs. Jona, I have some matters to attend to. Could you watch over Evelyn for a bit?"
"Of course!" Margaret nodded affirmatively.
Bairon bent down, gently stroking Evelyn's hair, whispering, "Wait for me here, and don't wander off."
Evelyn nodded earnestly.
...
"Where do you think we should start our search?" Inside the ship's cabin, Stephen, scratching his head, produced a map of White Gull's interior from who knows where.
Like other sailing vessels, the White Gull's structure could be broadly divided into passenger cabins, a kitchen area for preparing meals, storage holds for cargo, a lower level where oars could propel the ship, along with the deck, captain's quarters, and so forth.
The captain's quarters...
Bairon wanted to suggest, surmising that the Elf clan's Legacy Treasure was likely hidden there by Frank.
But now was not the time to retrieve it.
Bairon's plan was to locate the Legacy Treasure just a few hours before the White Gull was set to dock at San Sorus.
In that case, Frank would be solely focused on ensuring the White Gull reached San Sorus as swiftly as possible until he realized the Legacy Treasure was missing.
"I think we should start with the storage holds!" Stephen asserted spontaneously.
Bairon, taken aback, questioned, "Why?"
"Because it's dark down there. Perfect for hiding someone!" Stephen began, pausing briefly before adding, "Or even an Elf!"
"Suit yourself, but remember, my services are only until the sun rises from the sea's edge tomorrow morning," Bairon reminded.
Stephen couldn't help but wonder, "Magus, even though this is a bare transaction, don't you feel the slightest bit of excitement?"
"What's the point, even if there's an Elf aboard? What would you do once you find her?" Bairon retorted with a mocking grin.
"Well, of course, the obvious option would be to capture and sell her to the North or the islands in the East... Wait, don't glare at me like that. I meant some people would choose to sell. I merely want to chat with her to draw inspiration for my work," Stephen clarified, "As you know, tales of Elves are always so intriguing and captivating."
The pair conversed as they descended into the lowermost chambers of the White Gull.
Upon entering, they were greeted by complete darkness.
Stephen miraculously procured a candlestick from somewhere, lighting it with a matchstick. Using its dim glow, they ventured deeper into the chamber.
Bairon remarked, "The Alliance prohibits the abduction of Elves. Even if they aren't registered, they still possess the same rights as any citizen."
"But we're on international waters, and the White Gull is registered under the Pangboton Kingdom, where capturing and enslaving Elves is permitted!" Stephen retorted with a persistent grin.
He then mused aloud, "It's rather peculiar, though. Captain Frank seems to have no interest in locating the Elf."
"That's because there isn't one," Bairon responded, rolling his eyes.
"Shush! Don't ruin the mood; I sense my muse approaching..." Stephen whispered, placing a finger on his lips in a hushing gesture.
Ten minutes later.
Bairon emerged from the pitch-black hold.
Aside from a few rats, it was empty.
"We need to inform Frank about the rats. Having them on a sailboat can lead to serious issues!" Stephen asserted with a grave expression.
In truth, he'd been startled by those rats.
Yet, his eyes twinkled with excitement.
He probably intended to incorporate the encounter with the rats into his manuscript.
"Where to next?" Bairon inquired.
"To the person in question!" Without any hesitation, as if he had already made up his mind, Stephen replied.
Aboard the White Gull, there was only one individual who fit that description: Dave Padorn.
"He won't welcome you, let alone me," Bairon remarked.
It wasn't just because Bairon had recently killed one of his guards. In fact, after that guard's death, Dave hadn't spared him another glance.
The more pressing reason was that Bairon had disrupted his plan to halt and search the ship, even going so far as to challenge him to a duel.
For a magus, declining a duel was a deeply humiliating affair.
"While I might not be as powerful as you magi, you should never underestimate the potential of a professional writer in his domain," Stephen declared, brimming with confidence.
With that, the two made their way to Dave Padorn's cabin.
"Stephen, and you... What are you here for?!" Dave's face was laden with hostility.
Had Dave been a Battle Magus, Stephen's head would have surely met the Wind Blade several times by now.
But unfortunately for Dave, he wasn't one.
He was a Chanting Magus, and a rather weak one at that, likely just an Apprentice of the 1st ring.
"Hey, Dave, no hard feelings. We just came to check up on you," Stephen greeted warmly.
Bairon stood to the side, observing with a cool demeanor, offering no words.
Dave sneered, "Check up? You mean to mock my misery, don't you?"
"No, just a simple visit. We've heard many stories of Elves and humans bonding over love. Some were heart-wrenching, so I can empathize with you," Stephen said, walking further into the room.
Dave Padorn's cabin spanned more than fifty square meters, even boasting its own wine cabinet.
It was more lavish than the captain's quarters.
"Bairon, I have to agree with you again. Frank really knows how to turn a profit," Stephen remarked with astonishment.
He then, as if entering his own room, reached into the wine cabinet and fetched a bottle of wine.
"Put it back," Dave commanded coldly.
However, he didn't ask Stephen to leave.
"Oh, my apologies, I got carried away," Stephen replied, not showing the slightest hint of embarrassment.
Placing the wine back in its place, Stephen settled down, exuding a genuine concern, "Mr. Padorn, could you elaborate on your affair with the Elf?"
"What's it to you?" Dave asked, wary.
"We intend to find her," Stephen replied.
"But you declined the stop search, and White Gull will soon dock at Sail Town," Dave mocked, "Is this your so-called pursuit?"
"That won't be an issue. If we can identify the Elf, then within the two hours before the ship docks, we will find her. If we can't locate her within that timeframe, then even two more months won't make a difference given the size of the White Gull."
Stephen simply shrugged.
The disdain on Dave Padorn's face began to fade.
Stephen had seemingly succeeded.
Bairon couldn't help but massage his forehead.
Not only was Dave Padorn weak, but his intellect might also leave much to be desired.