"What's wrong?" Shiller noticed the Viking's changing expression and asked, "Are you scared?"
The Viking continued to fix his fishing line, speaking as he worked, "My dad said that no good people come from there. I didn't expect there would be a university professor."
"Of course there are, after all, it's a big city. By the way, did you go to college?" Shiller chattily conversed with the Viking, trying to distract himself. After all, he too feared he might get seasick.
The Viking shook his head, "I just graduated from high school a few months ago. My dad wanted me to go to college, but I didn't. I don't like being too far from the sea. This place raised me."
"You just graduated high school???" Shiller looked him up and down, entirely surprised. He hadn't realized that the Viking was only eighteen or nineteen years old.
Even though white people generally mature early, and beards make them look older, this man's stout figure and frame didn't look like a teenager's.
"That's why they call me the Viking. They think I look too robust, like a pirate." Having prepared his fishing line, the Viking stood up, went to the side of the boat, and cast a line, testing the fishing rod.
Shiller came over and stood beside him, looking out at the endless sea, he said, "In the years of my birth and growth, I never saw the sea. This is my first time vacationing by the sea, and I gotta say I love it. I can understand why you like it here so much."
The Viking turned to look at him, slightly surprised, he quirked an eyebrow, "Don't college professors usually go on beach vacations? ...Wait a second, does that mean you can't swim?"
Shiller nodded, "Technically speaking, I've never swum before. If I fall into the water, I don't know if I would drown or not."
"Of course you would." The Viking said with certainty, "The sea is not as gentle as she appears to you right now. When she gets angry, you would witness a true natural disaster."
After saying that, he handed his fishing rod to Shiller. Shiller adjusted it a bit and started fishing.
After Shiller had cast his line for some time, without any movement, the fishing boat finally reached the troublesome fishing spot the Viking had mentioned.
It was still shallow with some rocks underneath, not to mention an abundance of seaweed and corals. It was difficult to even spot fish here, let alone catch them.
The Viking also started fishing, standing beside Shiller. While nothing happened with Shiller's rod, the Viking caught one fish after another. Half an hour later, Shiller looked at the bucket of fish at the Viking's feet and said, "you know? If it was anyone else, they wouldn't tip you."
The Viking smiled, mischievously like a successful prankster, "A lot of the well-off people come onto my fishing boat, boasting about their fishing skills. I bring them here. Like I said, the sea isn't just gently nurturing. She also teaches them what failure feels like."
Contrary to his expectations, Shiller wasn't angry, nor did he pack up and leave. He just sat there with his fishing rod, calmly looking at the sea. He said, "That's okay. Like you said, this is a troublesome spot. If I can catch one fish today, I'll be happy."
The Viking once again reeled in a fish, unhooked it from his line, then said, "You're the most courteous Gothamite I've met. When the mob bosses come, they either complain about their bad luck or try to buy the fish I've caught."
"The joy of fishing lies not in the fish, but in the unknown tension of waiting for the catch." Shiller replied.
"If you've tasted the fish soup my dad makes, you wouldn't think that." The Viking smiled again, "As compensation for your failure today, I'll take you to my place later for some of his fish soup. We've never had a college professor at our house, he should be quite thrilled."
Shiller gave a small smile, "Well, in that case, I will gladly partake of your spoils."
In this day and age, most people greatly respect occupations like teachers and doctors, particularly university professors. In a quaint seaside town like this, having a professor visit would make the local residents very accommodating.
Until sunset, Shiller didn't catch a single fish. The sunset glow spilled into the seabed, outlining the dancing shadow of the sea-grass like graceful dancing girls. Seagulls were circling in the distance, only their tiny silhouettes visible against the red sun. Looking at this scene, Shiller didn't care much about the results of his fishing anymore.
About half an hour later, Shiller was walking along a slightly damp stone path. He looked up at the giant lighthouse in front of him and asked, "Is your house inside the lighthouse?"
"Of course not, who would live in a lighthouse? My father is the keeper of the Bludhaven Lighthouse. I'm here to pick him up from work, I can't cook. If he doesn't come home, we'll starve tonight."
Shiller laughed, and the Viking joined him. As they reached the entrance of the lighthouse, a white-templed man walked out. He didn't look old, and while his glasses indicated a sense of world-weariness, his eyes were gentle and kind.