Despite Elyon's lackluster appetite, his sisters Nyara and Seraphina ate with relish, their bellies rounding out comically. Elyon wiped his forehead with his left hand, bemused by their voracity.
"Chief Elyon, your sisters have quite the appetite," Mr. Mast, their tablemate, remarked as he offered Elyon a cigarette.
"Hardly, they've lost all semblance of ladylike restraint. Oh, and I don't smoke," Elyon declined Mr. Mast's offer, noticing the couple also seemed preoccupied, their plates barely touched.
"Mr. Mast, not hungry?"
"Oh, just a bit seasick. Chief Elyon, to be so young and already a chief, what's your area of responsibility?"
"Ah, I'm merely a clerk, really. Just started not long ago. I spend more time behind a desk than anything else," Elyon replied modestly, recalling his two hospital stints within a month and wondering if that counted as fulfilling his duty.
"A clerk? But don't clerks handle case investigations?" Mr. Mast seemed relieved by Elyon's response.
Elyon pondered the cases he'd encountered that month. The bank heist with the headless corpse ended with a secret society silencing the suspect—can't talk about that. The werewolf case—he took a bribe to keep quiet—can't talk about that either. And the most recent case involving the advent of an underworld god—definitely can't talk about that.
"Well, I did catch a petty thief," Elyon finally decided to mention the incident with the councilor.
"Oh, that's good. I mean, you don't have to deal with gangsters or violent criminals," Mr. Mast quickly explained.
Not gangsters, Elyon thought; his clerk job seemed to bring him into contact with individuals far more violent than any gangster. He felt a bit downcast, while Mr. and Mrs. Mast across from him seemed noticeably cheered up.
After lunch, the Nyara sisters returned to their room first, and Elyon stopped a waiter who was clearing the table.
"Excuse me, where's the kitchen?"
"Sir, are you still hungry? We're past lunchtime, but there's a snack service at the bar."
"No, no, I just really enjoyed the Celestine roast piglet at lunch and wanted to meet with your chef to talk about it. I heard he's from the distant East?" Elyon had to stick with his culinary exchange excuse.
"Ah, our chef is from the East, but he doesn't speak the common tongue very well. I can't guarantee he'll be keen on discussing his craft," the waiter said with a look of difficulty.
"Come now, I'm a first-class passenger, and the captain is supposed to look after me at someone's request. It's just a chat about food," Elyon said, pulling out a five-shilling note and handing it to the waiter.
"Don't get me wrong; this is just a tip that a waiter should receive."
The waiter glanced around quickly to make sure no one was watching and then pocketed the note. "Don't tell anyone I told you this, but the chef is actually a Celestine half-breed, born when his Celestine father came to the West on trade. If you really want to talk to him, head towards the stern below deck. That's where the kitchen is. The chefs usually play cards in the cold storage room to unwind after work."
With that, the waiter left, quickly clearing the table and pushing the cart away.
Ah, Elyon was hoping to find someone who could read Chinese, but a half-breed who hadn't grown up in the East was unlikely to fulfill that hope. Still, it was worth a look to see if this world's East resembled Earth's, despite the two moons in the night sky clearly indicating this was not Earth.
Elyon descended the stairs, the front half of the lower deck occupied by the second-class cabins. The passengers there lacked the viscount's grandeur but were neatly dressed. Elyon's attire blended in seamlessly.
He headed towards the stern, passing crew members who didn't question his presence. Finally, Elyon reached the kitchen door.
"The smell of grease is overpowering, and is that alcohol?" Elyon detected strong odors even through the door.
Pushing open the heavy iron door, designed for fire safety, Elyon had to use both hands to budge it.
"Big or small, place your bets!" A burly man shook a dice cup at a table surrounded by a group of people, engrossed in gambling and not noticing Elyon's entrance.
"Open! Big!" The man revealed a five and half the crowd cheered for their winnings while the others lamented the loss, demanding a redo.
"Arnold, could you tell me which one of you is the chef from Celestine?"
Elyon's interruption halted the gambling frenzy, and everyone turned to face the newcomer. The burly man, apparently the organizer, asked, "Who are you? The cabins are that way."
"I had the Celestine roast piglet for lunch and wanted to talk to the chef about its preparation. Just a culinary exchange," Elyon persisted with his story.
"A first-class passenger? How about a wager? If you win, we'll tell you," the burly man said, eyeing Elyon's simple attire skeptically.
"What's the bet?" Elyon considered simply paying them off, but with seven or eight people there, that might not be feasible.
"How about this: you beat me in arm-wrestling with both your hands against my one, and we'll tell you. If you lose, you pay up five pounds, keep quiet, and leave. No mention of what you saw here," the burly man suggested, flexing his muscles for emphasis.
Elyon chuckled, "How about this: if I win, you just need to tell me where the Celestine chef is and ensure our conversation isn't disturbed. If I lose, I'll hand over five pounds right away and leave without a word. Deal?"
Elyon pulled out a five-pound note to show he was serious.
"Are you sure?" The burly man hesitated in the face of Elyon's inexplicable confidence.
"Let's do it. If he's brave enough to bet, why should you be afraid?"
"Why pass up free money?"
Swayed by the crowd's sentiment, the burly man relented, cleared the table, and brought over a barrel for Elyon to sit on.
"One round decides it all. We start after three counts."
Elyon nodded, sat across from the burly man, and extended his right hand.
"Only using one hand?" The burly man was hesitant.
"One is enough," Elyon didn't elaborate. The burly man sat down, extended his right hand, and clasped it with Elyon's.
Seeing they were ready, someone shouted, "Three, two, one, start!"