The morning sunlight slanted over the sea, casting a shiny silver halo.
Every time the ship's hull slid across the waves, the halo would quiver slightly, as if the sea was breathing.
The chill brought by the sea breeze could not be dispelled even under the sunlight.
On the second floor of this sizable merchant ship heading to Lilom City, the wooden furniture and decorations exuded intricacy and warmth. Viscount Francis was seated at the dining table covered with a brocade tablecloth, with silver utensils arranged in a row before him.
The middle-aged Viscount, dressed in a dark gray suit, decorated with a family crest embroidered in gold thread, looked somewhat tired. However, his meticulous attire still projected solemnity and elegance, and his slender fingers bore subtle traces of swordsmanship.
He delicately forked a piece of smoked salmon into his mouth, subconsciously furrowing his brow as he chewed.
Yet it was not due to the chef's performance that day.
