"Is there anything different about the Quesser?" Anser asked, puzzled.
He did not understand sailing, but he knew that the speed of most sailing ships was not very fast—often under 5 knots in many situations.
One knot equals one nautical mile per hour, and one nautical mile is roughly equivalent to 1,853 meters.
"The Quesser is my life's work. Over thirty years, I've completed three major modifications for her—reinforcing the hull, installing flame cannons, and adding following-wind sails…" Salian said with a proud expression, as though he were showing off the child he was most proud of to others.
'Her?' Anser found it faintly amusing, but he could understand.
Salian's explanation was very general, and Anser could not quite grasp it, so he tried focusing his mind on the hull, the sails, and the flame cannon concealed beneath the aft superstructure.
A moment later, the die trembled slightly and displayed the relevant attributes of the Quesser, just like a piece of magical equipment.
'It actually works.' A surge of delight rose in his heart as he quickly skimmed through the description.
"Reinforced Hull" makes the ship's body sturdier and more resilient; even in a ramming collision, it will not come out at a loss.
"Flame Cannon" is a weakened version of an arcane cannon. It can fire a flaming shell at a visible location within 360 m. After the shell reaches the target point, it explodes, dealing 5d10 (5–50) fire damage to creatures within a 4.5 m spherical area around it.
If one avoids the center of the explosion, the damage is halved.
Although the Quesser has only one flame cannon, and it has only 10 charges, it is still one of the key supports that gives Salian the nerve to stir up trouble everywhere.
"Following-Wind Sails" are made from cloud-woven fabric collected from the Elemental Plane of Air, and are also called cloud sails. The wind howls around the sails, allowing the ship to sail at a minimum speed of 5 knots regardless of wind direction. There is no need to handle the sails, and the stronger the wind, the faster the speed.
Anser clicked his tongue inwardly: 'No wonder it took thirty years—these things sound expensive.'
"Amazing," he praised.
"Right? Paros has six ships of the same specification, but only the Quesser has never suffered a defeat. The pirate ships and slave ships she has defeated and sunk number at least dozens. There is an exhibition room on board, displaying every loser's ship flag or insignia…"
"That's really impressive," Anser played the role of a hype man, praising without pause.
He did not care whether Salian had a fetish for objects; as long as the other party was willing to go after Nashivaar with him, he was a lovable person.
The more Salian looked at Anser, the more pleasing he found him to the eye, and the smile on his face never faded. "Don't rush. This time I'm here to scout the situation. We won't be going to Baldur's Gate—we'll keep our eyes on this 'Sea Shark'. I've already inquired about it thoroughly; there are at least a hundred civilians on board."
"Don't think they left because they're afraid of Waterdeep's warships—they're afraid of me. Every time before I arrive, they run off. Their intelligence network is quite efficient…"
"Maybe they were delayed by something," Anser said, his gaze flickering thoughtfully. "Are the supplies on the ship still sufficient?"
"We have following-wind sails, and there are only a little over thirty crew members aboard. Supplies are very ample."
"May I ask bluntly—have you… always done things this way? Has Amn never retaliated against you?" Anser asked in surprise. The slave trade was, after all, a pillar industry of the Nashivaar Family.
"Uh, we strike only occasionally. You always need accurate intelligence, right? Mainly… funding isn't quite enough either. After all, Quesser's primary mission is to make money…" Salian reined in his smile, his expression full of regret.
"Oh." Anser understood.
Paros does not actively pursue slave traders, but when the opportunity arises, it will also follow behind Waterdeep and fight a few engagements.
Salian's actions have not received authorization from the higher-ups, but he is a veteran with great strength. As long as he does not go too far, no one interferes with him.
There is certainly retaliation, but Quesser operates like a hunter, acting covertly. Even if one wanted revenge, interception would be difficult—unless Paros were shelled outright, which would be far too blatant a slight against the Lords' Alliance.
'So it's self-funded after all—Gwyneth's family fortune has probably been drained dry by him.' He muttered inwardly.
Salian looked at Anser with a genial smile. "Anser, how do you view the slave trade? Paros and Waterdeep have worked at it for so many years, yet it seems nothing has really changed."
Anser smiled faintly and turned his gaze toward the bustling Silver Scale Bay. "I once heard a story. On a stretch of beach, when the tide receded, countless small fish were left stranded. A boy spared no effort picking them up and throwing them back into the sea."
"Passersby couldn't bear to watch him waste his strength and tried to dissuade him: 'Child, there are thousands upon thousands of little fish on this beach. You can't save them all.'"
"The boy said, 'I know.'"
"The passerby said, 'Then why are you still throwing them back? Who cares?'
"'This little fish cares!' the boy replied as he picked up another fish and tossed it into the sea. 'This one cares, this one cares too! And this one—this one as well…'"
"Many things don't necessarily have an outcome. Doing them is what matters."
Salian's eyes lit up. He slapped the railing repeatedly. "Yes, yes, exactly—you've said exactly what was in my heart. I'm short one first mate on my ship. Would you like to give it a try?"
With a loud clatter, not far behind them, a gray-haired halfling stared blankly at Salian, a wooden crate toppled at his feet.
"Captain, am I not the first mate?" the halfling asked, pointing at his own face, his expression stunned.
"You can be the second mate," Salian said indifferently with a casual wave, then continued looking at Anser.
"I don't have that idea for now," Anser declined at once. He knew nothing about ship operations, and barging in only to snatch someone else's first mate position would be going too far. Besides, he had no real interest in rescuing slaves—what he had said earlier was merely to go along with Salian.
"All right, my door is always open to you," Salian said with evident regret.
Life aboard a ship was extremely harsh, and the unknown dangers at sea were many. Even capable professionals were unwilling to come; after all, once one attained a certain status, who wouldn't want to enjoy life a little?
Seeing this, the halfling nearby seemed to let out a sigh of relief. He shook his head helplessly, lifted his crate, and left.
"When do we make a move? I can hardly wait," Anser quickly steered the topic back—this was the real point, after all.
"Don't rush," Salian said with a smile. "The most important thing for a hunter is patience. The prey has intelligence too—don't underestimate them."
"I understand."
...
Facts proved that Salian truly understood these slave ships very well.
Perhaps foreseeing danger, after finishing its resupply, the Sea Shark did not leave port. Instead, it chose an anchorage far from Quesser, quietly lying at anchor without any movement.
Anser was not in a hurry either. He wandered around the ship, familiarizing himself with the structure and characteristics of sailing vessels.
However, little Claira could not stay put. Seeing the halfling first mate Colin going to purchase supplies, she wanted to follow along. Anser and Kaleno had no choice but to accompany her as bodyguards, and incidentally bought a few bottles of healing potions.
Not long after dinner, the sea wind suddenly shifted direction, growing stronger and stronger in gusts, as white waves churned through the bay.
Then dark clouds filled the sky, and a light, drizzling rain began to fall, mixed with the sea wind, stinging people's faces as it struck.
Anser stood quietly atop the aftcastle, wearing a cloak with a cape thrown over it. It looked a bit odd, but it blocked the wind and rain. Even though the cloak's saving-throw property was not in effect, simply wearing it still provided a bit of protection.
In the game, you can't wear multiple sets of armor, but in reality you can—as long as you're able to put them on, you can wear as many layers as you like.
Almost no one actually does that, though. Mobility and agility are extremely important in combat.
The sky grew increasingly dark; even the surface of the sea a hundred meters away was blurred and indistinct, and the distant anchorage showed not a single light.
The first floor of the aftcastle was the dining hall and crew common room. At the moment it was brightly lit, with more than thirty crew members of widely varying heights, builds, and appearances chatting and laughing, seemingly not tense at all.
Finn, sitting in a corner, suddenly stood up, pulled open the door, and poked his head out to shout upward, "The Sea Shark has weighed anchor."
"Mhm," Anser responded, continuing to wait.
Inside the dining hall, Salian was drinking with the first mate, Colin. Perched on Colin's shoulder was a dozing owl, its body swaying back and forth with a sort of foolish cuteness.
Hearing Finn's shout, Salian's eyes shifted as he carefully sized him up.
Colin's heart skipped a beat—he knew that look all too well—and he hurriedly emphasized, "Guli can do it too; it's just that today… the wind is a bit strong."
"Oh." Salian neither affirmed nor denied it.
Colin was a 4th-level druid of the Circle of the Sea. He had an owl familiar named Guli, which could also scout for information, but it never fully woke up during the day, dozed at night, couldn't fly when the wind was strong, and rested whenever it rained.
It was exactly like its owner.
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