Chapter 156: The Maiden Voyage of the Going Merry

Seiza, also known as crane-perching posture, squatting posture, or kneeling posture, was one of the traditional ways of sitting on the floor in ancient Han culture.

With hips resting on the ankles, upper body held straight, and hands placed gently on the knees, the body feels relaxed and comfortable.

Closing one's eyes reveals the exact posture Victor was currently maintaining for meditation.

"Well done! You defeated Olaf fair and square. Are you certain you want to return the title instead of defending it?"

The arena administrator's face was brimming with excitement. A youth defeating the former champion and subsequently returning the title meant that the "Fists of Fury" would regain its vitality, especially since very few people were ever willing to challenge Olaf...

"It's fine. Who else is left for me to fight?"

"Perhaps you could take a ship to Spikeroog. It is said the underground arena there is even more ferocious. You could challenge the 'Ultimate Champion' there!"

Victor opened his eyes. The ridiculous Ultimate Champion was nothing more than a rock troll; the mere thought of hand-to-hand combat with it made one's groin ache. Spikeroog was full of lunatics.

The life-or-death battle against Olaf had awakened the youth's past-life memories regarding "Fists of Fury: Skellige," and the utterly absurd Ultimate Champion at the end of the quest left one with a lingering, deeply unpleasant aftertaste.

Mentally relegating Spikeroog to the very bottom of his travel bucket list, Victor picked up the hand wraps lying beside him. Having been thoroughly cleaned, they looked brand new. Victor gently spread them out and stroked them with his hands.

He tossed two fine hand wraps into a large cauldron, along with a series of claw and knuckle materials: wolf claws, bear claws, drowners' claws, nekkers' claws, grave hags' claws, ghouls' claws, sirens' claws, griffins' claws, and an archgriffin's finger bones—a whole array of hand-related ingredients.

While stirring, he focused purely on the desired outcome: "wraps that allow the force of a punch to penetrate muscle and fat." He left the underlying principles to be auto-completed by the unfathomable alchemy, and ultimately, this haphazard concoction produced an epic masterpiece—the "Divine Punch Wraps."

They were neither magic nor science, but a law—a law established through communication with the world: "Victor's exclusive; when bound, part of the striking force penetrates muscle and fat."

After that, things were simple. The duration of the Dragon Shout's intimidation over Olaf was more than enough for him to deliver a fatal blow to the behemoth. Then came the cheers and roars of the entire crowd, and the fanaticism on their faces...

"Knock, knock!" The door was knocked.

The youth shook off his thoughts, packing away his fond memories and emotions into his herbal pouch.

"Come in!"

Angoulême walked into the room and sat down cross-legged with zero posture.

She looked somewhat listless and devoid of energy. "What's wrong? Missing your new friends?"

The girl nodded. "Yeah, there's quite a contrast. Before your trial, it was lively every day, and after you came back, banquets became an everyday affair. Then, all of a sudden, friends left, and in the blink of an eye, it's just the two of us again."

"Hey! How is it just the two of us? You shouldn't bully Vigi like that. I've already inducted him into the Phantom Troupe; from now on, he is our comrade too."

The girl's caterpillar-like thick eyebrows arched upward. "Speaking of which, it makes me angry. You told me to teach him the Troupe's code of conduct, but he's so dim-witted he can't even read books. How am I supposed to teach him?"

"You have to be understanding of Skelligers. It's already quite something that he can speak the Common Speech; you can't expect them to write. Look at Yuna—doesn't she also not know how to write, yet she's still your good sister!" the youth retorted moderately.

"I don't like having men in the Troupe!"

"Your problem should be that men are fine, as long as they are good-looking!"

Angoulême closed her mouth, evidently hit squarely by Victor's words.

The youth smiled gently. "Don't underestimate Vigi. He has some very good qualities: he is loyal and uncomplaining. Although he has minor flaws like liking to drink and boast, no one is perfect.

Operating in Skellige requires a local guide. Think about who it was these past few days at the dock who worked hard to prepare ships for us? Without him, would you understand ship types? Hiring sailors, assigning positions—if I let you do it, could you pull it off?

Even I couldn't.

With him around, I can save a lot of time for reading, alchemy, and pre-trip preparations. That's what a team is all about. Having you teach him the basics is also with you in mind; if you train him now, you'll be his big sister boss!"

Victor then leaned close to Angoulême's ear and whispered, "Don't be afraid of your status being replaced. In my heart, you are always the best! The Phantom Troupe's Vice-Leader!"

Vice-Leader?!

In an instant, the girl's face flushed red. "That's right! The mission of expanding the Hansa and training members is a duty I cannot shirk as Vice-Leader. I'll do my best!"

With that, she strode out of the room with her head held high.

"Single-celled organisms are truly enviable." Watching Angoulême leave, Victor touched his chin, where a faint stubble was beginning to form.

...

A week had passed since the an Craite siblings left. This morning, the Phantom Troupe gathered at Urialla Harbor. It was their turn to leave, and they were seen off by Svanrige and Folan.

Angoulême and Vigi took Folan to tour the Phantom Troupe's new ship, while the Dragonborn personally accompanied the king's son for a chat.

"Time flies really fast. I didn't expect you to leave so soon."

"We were out to gain experience in the first place, so naturally we wouldn't stay in any particular place for too long. Little Skellige is very peaceful, and there are no monsters there that particularly need my eradication."

Svanrige expressionless, replied, "That's fine too. You leaving early might actually be a good thing."

Victor looked at the king's son quizzically. Svanrige shook his head and changed the subject. "This is a good ship, meticulously crafted by Urialla shipwrights. It is a hundred and thirty-five feet long in total, operable by fourteen people, has a deep draft, is suited for the open ocean, and is an extremely sturdy, fine vessel."

For some reason, every time Svanrige mentioned a "good ship," Victor felt as though it carried a curse.

"It was all arranged by Vigi. I personally don't understand these things at all."

"Winning his loyalty is a good thing. He is actually a man of talent, but his thirst for fame and obsession with heroism have blinded him, causing him to constantly get into trouble. From now on, staying by the side of a true warrior like you, I believe he can provide tremendous assistance."

Victor nodded in agreement.

"Have you figured out where you're going first?"

"Kaer Trolde first! I want to purchase some supplies there, and then skirt around the southernmost point of Great Skellige to head to Faroe."

"Hmm, what business do you have over there? Faroe is the poorest and most chaotic place in the archipelago. 'Horg Blackhand' is not an easy man to deal with; even my father struggles to communicate with him." At this, as if recalling something amusing, a smile appeared on his stoic face.

"Having the Dragonborn certificate issued by King Bran will be enough. I am going there to hunt down a group of pirates who traffic in islanders, and I won't come into conflict with Clan Drummond."

Svanrige nodded without further comment.

Next, the youth embraced Folan, thanking him for his guidance over the past few days.

Then, boarding the ship, weighing anchor, and hoisting the sails, the brig rode the wind and waves, heading southwest.

...

The name of this brig was the Going Merry.

"Damn it, what are you lazy wretches doing? Scrub those deck planks clean! Do you intend to breed barnacles on them?"

Standing at the bow with the girl, listening to the scoundrel's angry roars, the youth wore a broad smile.

"See? Do you think we should go down there and manage things ourselves? And besides, that fierce fellow addresses you as big sister boss whenever he sees you now—don't you find that delightful?"

It was now the third day of the voyage, and the ecosystem aboard the Going Merry had stabilized. The supreme ruler was Captain Victor, followed by First Mate Angoulême, but the one actually running things was Second Mate Vigi. Being a Skelliger, he was the one who actually knew what he was doing.

Although their superiors knew nothing about seamanship, the second mate still respected the captain and first mate, never once considering dumping the two outsiders into the sea. Of course, that was only natural, as several sailors had already recognized the captain as the renowned "Dragonborn."

Victor didn't care what the sailors were thinking. Although the ship was named Going Merry, that was just a personal quirk; essentially, he had no intention of becoming the Pirate King, nor did he have any interest in the pirate trade.

He took out his spyglass to observe an Craite's family crest: a red and black round shield engraved with the three black longships symbolizing the clan.

As the ship drew closer, looking up at the fortress standing atop the peak, Kaer Trolde's majesty and steepness truly befitted the pride and glory of Clan Drummond—correction, Clan an Craite.

In Skellige legend, the ancestor of Clan an Craite—Grimmgar, son of the hero Hemdall—was renowned for unmatched divine strength.

When Hemdall distributed lands among his sons, Grimmgar received Great Skellige, but after walking the entire island, he could find no place worthy of serving as his throne. Thus, he asked Hemdall to forge the thickest iron chain for him.

Upon receiving the chain, he dived into the deep sea, encircled an unimaginably huge mountain with the heavy chain, dragged it out of the water, placed it on the northeastern corner of the island, and finally carved "Kaer Trolde" upon it with his bare hands to serve as his throne.

The credibility of this entire story was just as credible as the traditional legends of any ethnicity.

Yet this did not detract from the greatness of the fortress's engineering. Several tunnels drilled through the mountain body intersected, making Kaer Trolde's defense system impregnable.

In any case, this time the Phantom Troupe was sailing their own ship and could finally be certain they had arrived at Kaer Trolde, rather than being shipped off to some inexplicable port once more.

Once the ship docked, the captain first called the second mate to his side, handing him a pouch of crowns to decide how to distribute among the sailors, and gave the first mate another pouch of crowns as pocket money. Arranging to meet the two of them later at the "New Port Tavern," he stepped across the gangplank and entered the Kaer Trolde market.

The prosperity and bustling nature of Kaer Trolde Port far exceeded Urialla Harbor; it was truly the archipelago's largest external trading port.

Walking alone, Victor quickly purchased all the items he needed, and then made a detour to check the notice board. Angoulême's work style had been taught by him, so naturally, he wouldn't miss it himself.

*Druid Notice*
Daughters and sons of Clan an Craite!
Every winter now grows harsher; the snow and ice melt later, the flowers bloom later, and the lambs are born later. Therefore, be warned—store your food early, and complete the drying and smoking work so that you may survive the winter.
— Ermion

Standing with his arms crossed, Victor stared intently at the proclamation. The description felt somewhat reminiscent of a "Little Ice Age." Could the apocalyptic "White Frost" actually refer to a minor ice age?

He shook his head. Although the youth had plenty of spoiler knowledge regarding the Witcher world, weather forecasting was definitely not among them.

*A Fine Opportunity for Warriors*
Seeking glory and gold? Do you wield a sharp sword and hold no fear of the Reaper? Then come find Master Shipwright Bjorg; I have work for you.
Mure D'yaebl haunt Kaer Trolde harbor, and they must be slain. They multiply rapidly and grow fast; you are bound to encounter them every time you leave port.
Slay those monsters, and your renown will spread across the islands while your pockets grow heavy with coin.
— Bjorg

"Mure D'yaebl" sounded very mysterious, but they were actually just drowners, albeit with a unique Skellige name.

Victor considered it for a few minutes. Given that Angoulême had just helped him restock, and they were leaving tomorrow with no intention of lingering here for long, he decided to pass on this commission for now.

After all, Luov's beloved Lise was still waiting for him to rescue her, and the pirate Hammond's head also had a date with Vigi's Dawn Blade.

...

The reason for choosing the "New Port Tavern" was that its owner, Jonas, was a good buddy and fellow townsman of Vigi the Scoundrel, both hailing from Undvik and belonging to the Tordroch clan.

Anyone who could be good buddies with the past Vigi had to have extraordinary qualities. Indeed, upon actual inspection, it turned out that the New Port Tavern was the most popular inn in Kaer Trolde.

Oak shields and embroidered tapestries hung on the walls, their patterns mostly featuring horseshoes or swords. There was a small four-piece ensemble playing music, alongside tavern waitstaff dancing merrily.

The air radiated a spacious, warm atmosphere—bustling and noisy, yet never annoying.

Victor raised his mug in a toast to the tavern owner: "I rather like this place."

The bold, bald Jonas replied, "I certainly hope so. When I came from Undvik, this place was still ruins, and seagull droppings would even fall through the gaps in the thatch roof into the ale mugs.

I bought this building and remodeled it with my own hands into the cozy tavern it is today."

"Why did you name it the New Port Tavern?"

"To stay true to my roots. The tavern I opened in Undvik was called 'Old Port'... Some of the older patrons come here at night to reminisce about the good old days in our homeland."

"I used to think you islanders never migrated?"

"There are always exceptions, always exceptions."

Amidst the casual chatter, Vigi the Scoundrel and Angoulême successively entered the tavern, enjoying the roasted pork knuckle and pepper vodka specially treated by the owner, spending a warm and pleasant time.

...

The next day, the Going Merry set sail southward.

In the captain's cabin, Victor spread out the newly purchased regional map bought at a heavy price yesterday, leaning over it to sketch and plan. Since they had already come this far, they naturally had to map out their travel itinerary.

Angoulême squatted on a chair, hugging her knees. "Is it really alright not to notify Clan an Craite that we've been here?"

The youth pushed up his decorative spectacles—also bought yesterday—and replied, "It's fine. If we notified them of our visit, they would certainly want to know our purpose. Once they knew, if they wanted to send people to help, should we accept or refuse?

This is just a personal feud; the Troupe can resolve it ourselves. Besides, I originally intended to use alchemy to solve every difficulty along the way.

So, we'll pay them a formal visit after we've finished our business."

The girl nodded in approval, lowered her feet, and leaned over to observe the map. "Where are we now?"

Victor first pointed to Kaer Trolde, then slid his finger toward the fractured chain of islands to the southwest. "Tonight we'll pass through the strait of Ard Skellig... there's a lighthouse providing illumination there," he continued, moving his finger south. "By dawn, we'll be approaching Undvik."

"However, I don't plan to dock there; we'll head straight south to Trottheim. I'll confirm the details with Vigi later."

His plan was meticulously designed and highly executable. However, the youth never imagined that very night, the Going Merry would sink.