Studying the Engine Array and Stealth Array, as well as the many other Enchanted items Morgan managed to bring down into the hold, revealed less than he hoped but more than he feared. However, nearly 20 minutes after departing the island swamp, it soon became apparent that any further progress on Enchantment education within the mildew-reeking hold would be impossible without a necessary tool. In this case a Rune to Common translator.
But at the moment, Morgan wasn't concerned by anything down there besides the closed door of the tiny storage area. The little room it led to must have been an addition Bronte and her crew installed because it was made of what appeared to be scraps of a different vessel. Its walls, likely segments of scavenged decks, were poorly fitted together, allowing even the smallest of whispers spoken within to escape.
"...Naw, he can't hear us." Said a raspy voice, his whispered statement unknowingly proven false.
"Shhh! You don't know that for sure!" Hissed the other, anxiety making his voice an octave higher than natural. "Besides, I promise you he isn't the one we have to worry about. Now shut up about Inquisitors before the Lady makes you shut up, and I get caught up in the crossfire."
The Satyrs had woken up when the barge fell to the sea, and both criminals agreed that faking sleep was the safest road to survival. Something the Professor agreed with and did his part by ignoring them the entire time.
So, not for the first time, the conspiring of two bleating fools managed to pierce his concentration. Most of the persistent whispers were just trading personal accounts of the day's events, nothing worth Morgan's attention. This was until Greg had uttered something the late Bronte had mentioned.
Which was something a hell of a lot more interesting than wallowing in regret. So, accepting that today wouldn't be the start of his Enchantment education, Morgan shelved the matter to take up the role of the proverbial fly on the wall.
"If the thing-"
"Lady Momo!" Whispered Greg insistently.
"-hasn't attacked us by now, then it-she doesn't care about us talking." Continued Pete reasonably, a combination of words that threatened the very natural order of things. "If the Professor guy hears us talking about him and he really is an Inquisitor, then we might as well just toss ourselves in the Void now because we know too much. But if we notch this arrow just right, we might-"
"Why Hells are you saying 'we' for? It's you who's poking a horn where it doesn't belong." Snapped the Assassin. "Stop trying to drag me to Diyu with you because you never learned to deal with boredom."
"Hey Greg, in case you didn't notice, we're already in chains. You don't need my help to land you furry ass in a cell." Sneered the Archer before swapping to a more amicable tone. "And it ain't boredom that's bothering me. So you can sit there and become another nameless stepping stone, or…"
Greg let out a long sigh, taking the bait his partner in crime offered. "Or what, Pete?"
"Or you can walk away a free Satyr by helping me figure out whether or not the bastard is an-" Pete's pitch was almost drowned out by Greg's quiet mocking laugh. "No, I mean it, damn it! I got a plan to get us out."
"Bahaha! A plan, from you? I'd sooner believe that two of the rocks in your skull smacked together, and you've confused the spark for an idea." Suddenly, his tone became as dark as his chosen Class. "What's your plan? Even if you're right and he is an agent of the Court, you think blackmailing an agent will get you anything but recycled?"
"That's why I'm not gonna tell him, I'm gonna tell the patrol guards." He insisted. "Think about it: if Clan Caesar is sneaking Inquisitors hiding the Wild Zone into the Capital, then wouldn't that mean the leaders of said Capital don't know what's going on?"
"That… makes some sense." Greg sounded as startled as Morgan felt. "The palace has its own private Gate to use if they want to quietly bring in an offworlder. So maybe the palace is being kept in the dark about this."
"That's what I'm saying. Lucky for our city's ruling Clan, Fate has sent us to light their way. Exposing a scheme between the Faction leaders and Court in exchange for not tossing our behinds in Diyu, and I'd say it's a fair exchange."
"Hmm. Normally, the guards wouldn't believe a word we say to them, but when they see the Hound entering Olympia with such an odd Cultivator, then it might be possible to get their attention. First time I saw the Professor, I nearly shit myself thinking he was an Attendant." Morgan noticed the Assassin had started using 'we' now. "I'll admit that pointing out the potential danger might postpone our arrest, but if we're wrong-"
"We won't be any worse off." Finished Pete smugly before growing serious. "Which is why you need to tell me about that Inquisitor who got caught accepting bribes a couple of years back. Her name was something Takenaka, I think. You wouldn't shut the Void up about them slapping the cuffs on the hoofless bastard, but did they really?"
"What? Arrest her?" Snorted Greg. "Of course they did. No way the Celestial Court would've let someone cutting deals with the Dragons go free, especially when the whole Realm was watching. Can you imagine what'll happen if those nosey pricks start thinking they're above Court law like they are with Faction law?"
Hearing that, the Professor became fully invested in their hushed conversation.
"No, that's not what I-"
"Inquisitors would be openly doing exactly what they've been doing for years in secret! Stealing resources, selling information, and claiming whatever they do is allowed because it's part of an investigation that no one is allowed to know about." Greg continued, answering his own question in what was quickly becoming a one-man debate. "Sure, the threat of inquiry keeps the higher Ranks from gutting us like fish, but that's only because the whole department is kept on a tighter leash than the Heavens. It's like I've been saying for years, if-"
Whatever the Assassin had been bitching about for years was lost as Morgan silently made his way over to them, careful to place each step near the wall where floor planks were less likely to squeak when stepped on. In a dozen steps, the Professor lay at the door, his right eye peering hungrily through the gap between door and hull. There was an actual peephole drilled at eye level, but the former jailers would naturally check there for spies. He looked up at the seated prisoners, watching Greg drone on about and on about alien politics while Pete silently banged his head against a knee.
From what he overheard, an Inquisitor was something akin to a government investigator, and hearing his unique situation made it possible to be mistaken for one felt like rain nurturing an endless field of wildflowers. Each colorful bloom was a potential scheme made possible by the perfect alibi. So, of course, Morgan refused to believe it wasn't a trap until he saw the words literally leave their mouth. Getting so close was a risk; all the Satyrs had to do to discover him was look down at the bottom right corner of the door, and they'd spot the pale blue eye surveying them.
But that was fine. The Professor would have to confront them eventually, as they planned to set the Capital guards on his scent.
"You done rambling like a bitter old goat on their 12th cup of the night?" Pete asked, barely containing his frustration as his fellow nodded. "Well, that's good because I was asking about the cuffs, Greg, like the shackles on our Heaven damned wrists. When the bitch was arrested, did they use Class suppression cuffs to hold her? I'm betting they didn't."
"Why would…?" Greg gave him a bewildered look before shaking his head in disbelief. "Of course, her Class was suppressed. Don't you remember that picture of Takenaka being marched away in chains? Weeks after the arrest, you still couldn't walk five steps in the lower districts without seeing a poster nailed to a wall. There's even a few posters still in the cargo bay. Seriously man, at least try to pretend your memory isn't complete shit. It's embarrassing."
The Archer's face reddened, and for a moment, Morgan expected punches to start flying. However, retaliation came only as a hissing snarl.
"No. Embarrassing is thinking that being known as the Hit-and-Run Killer is something impressive." But as soon as the reflexive insult was out, Pete physically deflated and started muttering to himself. "Damn, and I really thought I had something there. Ah well, we'll just lie to the guards and cry Inquisitor anyway. With any luck, the cowardly pricks upstairs really do have something to hide… With a face like that, the Professor probably has a dirty secret or two hidden under that ratty set of robes... Hey, why are you gawking at me like that?"
Personally, Morgan would have described the look on the Assassin's face as an irritated glare. However, his view on the matter might've been influenced, at least in part, by the fact that he, too, was giving the Archer a similar glare from behind the door. They both waited for the idiotic Satyr to realize he had left the conversation with the lead still half-buried in the muck.
"Pete." He sighed, realizing, just as Morgan had, that waiting would only result in wasted time. "I hope that when you reincarnate, you come back as something a little smarter. Maybe becoming a three-headed Beast will give you just enough brains to understand how annoying you-" Greg took a deep breath, swallowing the insult to ask. "Why would an Inquisitor's Cultivation being suppressed help our situation?"
"Well, it doesn't, does it?" He snapped, now giving Greg a glare.
"Why did it ever matter!?"
"It mattered because I thought that being a damned Inquisitor gave a Cultivator immunity from having their Cores locked up tighter than a tax collector's purse by these," Pete pointed at his own manacles, "damned cuffs! It was the only reason I could think of for how the freak out there managed to use a Skill while these," this time Pete rattled the chains in his partner's face, forgetting they were supposed to be quiet lest they catch the Lady Momo's attention, "were locked on his fucking wrists! Excuse me for trying to- Huh."
When all the anger and frustration instantly disappeared in the face of that considering 'huh', a chilling breeze of doubt blew through Morgan's heart, coating his metaphorical field of wildflowers with frost. Blessedly, doubt quickly melted as he and Ego had already hammered out a believable explanation before they even stepped foot on a chariot.
"Save your brain the effort of thinking; that miserable little creature isn't used to being put to work so often." Greg snickered knowingly at his friend. "The Professor didn't use a Skill to blind Boss because I know for a fact his Class Core was suppressed because I cuffed myself. Instead, he used the same Artifact he distracted me with. I hate to admit it, but that trick got me good; I thought someone with that level of Mana control was a Sage and tried to run right past him."
"Wha?" Pete started out of his stupor and looked at Greg with alarm. "That's not possible."
"Of course it is." The Satyr said, speaking with a tone generally reserved for small children. "I wasn't there, but if it looked like he used a Skill, then it was just an act, a lie to confuse you and Boss. Think about it, Pete. Obviously, it was a fake Skill; I mean, have you ever heard of a one-word Skill name in your life? That's right, never. Do you understand, or must I explain what strategy is?"
If the Assassin was going to teach, it would be to an audience of one, as Morgan had already picked himself off the floor. Chances were that he had already collected any of the potentially valuable information there was about Inquisitors. Naturally, he'd need to collect far more data from more trusted sources before cooking up any schemes. Still, just gaining the idea made indulging his idle curiosity worth the dust stains his coat suffered.
Originally, he planned to confront the two immediately, but instinct told him the Hound might have a better idea at silencing the Satyrs than he did. That was why, by the time Pete's response came, Morgan already had one boot on the ladder.
"...Greg." He whispered with quiet conviction that disturbed the Scientist. "Nobody can use an Artifact like that while suppressed."
Hmm?
For a second, the Professor hesitated to climb another step, recalling that the Archer had said something similar back on the deck. At the time, Morgan had dismissed the claim as an untested assumption since a more trusted source had informed him otherwise.
"Of course you can." Dismissed the more trusted source with contempt coating every word. "So long as the Artifact or Array has its own power source, anything can trigger the effect. How else do you think Wanderers can use Glowstones or send out Clouds for their masters?"
"That's only true for the real basic Enchantments, where the script runs itself." The scarred Satyr Challenged, sounding uncharacteristically sober. "But without a Core, there's no way to directly control the Mana in the Enchantment."
"Oh really? So I take it you don't remember the Goblin contestant with the Enchanted metal arm? The little shit almost caused a whole shipment to escape from the base after using his arm to pick open the holding cell lock."
"The Goblin said he didn't use his Core to control the arm. You missed it while chasing after the other escapees, but I was there when the Boss interrogated him. Kept saying that the arm was almost alive and could move by itself like a little Golem or something like that. Golem or not, it must have been something as valuable because the Boss sold it to buy that new warhammer and smiting set."
"So that was where she got the coin," Greg murmured distractedly. "I knew it had to come from more than what she stole from our pay… Alright, what about the pair of Rogues that the Boss had to blast to the Hells before we came here? We managed to pin one down and shackle them, but that still didn't stop them from using something to teleport- Wait… Recalling it now, I can see how it might have been the other Rogue who triggered the escape Artifact. The one we caught looked as surprised as us when they appeared beside their scaly friend… Huh."
"Yeah." Nodded Pete absently, returning to his troubled thoughts once more. "Huh."
Suddenly, the Assassin's confidence disappeared as he struggled to recall any other experiences of Enchanted items being used under similar circumstances. Of which there were none. Greg already knew that much for certain because… Because the Professor and that Spirit had questioned him thoroughly about such matters after capturing him.
"You know," Greg started to say as he eyed his own manacles pensively. "I never had the chance to think about it until now, but they were asking a lot of questions about the Enchantment on these. Hells, I never even thought about looking for a loophole until then. But they kept insisting on finding something, and I thought they would kill me if I didn't come up with something… So I blurted out the stories about the Goblin and Rogues, not even realizing I was wrong."
Out of nowhere, Pete grabbed a fist full of Greg's shirt, and there was a wild look in the shirtless Satyr's horizontal eyes. Greg tried to push his friend away, but the scrawny Cultivator helm firm.
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"That's what I'm saying. What you said would happen is impossible, but the hoofless freak did it anyway." All the speculation and heavy thinking might've begun to unravel Pete's psyche because he started nodding like something was whispering the answers to him. "Yeah, yeah. I'm starting to think that the light thing isn't even an Artifact; it's a Skill! But…”
The crazed Satyr let go of the shirt to instead stare at the silver cuffs binding him and his Cultivation. The whole time, muttering to the enchanted Artifact as if badgering would force the answers from it.
"...But I'm wearing the same cuff he was, and I can't get my Class Core to so much as pull up my Stat Window… If the Enchantment shuts down Cores… So how could a Cultivator use Prana without…"
Revelation continued to elude the Archer; on the other hand, understanding seemed to have jumped almost willingly into the unsuspecting Assassin's lap.
Greg went very still, freezing the same way a prey animal does when it realizes something dangerous is creeping about. He looked above the door, where the known threat was, yet Momo didn't so much as twitch her tail in response. Despite her apparent disinterest, Greg's distress only increased tenfold as he began hissing for his partner's attention.
"Pete, stop talking."
"What if the bastard doesn't need a Class Core…"
"Pete, shut up. I'm being serious right now." Greg was going pale now as he watched the watcher in utter terror. "You can't figure this out here!"
"Course I can." Pete dismissed automatically. "I've definitely heard about something like this before."
"No, you didn't!" He hissed frantically. "You should stop spewing Void and listen to-"
"That's it!" Pete interrupted, his face lighting up with a feeling the Professor knew all too well. "Remember that old mare from the Beggar Sect when we were kids? The one who used to be a teacher and told stories if we gave her food? We used to listen to her talk all night until we fell asleep."
"No!" Now it was Greg's turn to forcibly hold the other's attention, and he grabbed Pete's face with both hands, making sure the idiot could see the fear in his eyes. "And even if I did remember, that woman was a cheat and a liar. Right, Pete?"
The Archer considered the other's statement carefully, and for a moment, it seemed as if he had understood the Assassin's not-so-subtle message. Greg started to relax until Pete answered honestly.
"Naw. I'm pretty sure the story lady was on the up and up. Poor thing was some Noble brat's history teacher before she got kicked for… something. Don't remember what for, probably breathing wrong or something stupid. Anyways, I remember her telling us a story about an evil Dragon who figured out how to Cultivate without a Core. I thought it was a load of Wood Roach crap-"
"It is!" Insisted Greg, near tears as he begged the wardens to believe him. "It's all crap, I swear it is. I swear."
"I thought so, too." Nodded the oblivious Satyr, wholly lost in his own little world. "Then I asked Thick-Tooth about it the next day when we were working a job together, and he said it was true. Told me all about how the Court and Factions hunt down everyone caught practicing a different method because they're dangerous; that's why they're rare, but people like that did exist. He called them Calamities, but you know how Warlocks love to be dramatic about everything. Still, I think the city guards would pay a lot of Drach to know there's one on this- Oh Hells man, stop crying!"
"We're sorry." The Assassin squeaked between quiet sobs. "We won't tell anyone. Please."
Pete slapped the blithering goat-man behind the back, forcing Greg into a coughing fit. During which, Pete tried to calm him in his own misguided fashion.
"It's just a tamed Beast, you fool; there's no way the thing is going to report what we say. How could it? It doesn't speak Common do it?" The Archer playfully mocked before grinning at Momo, looking at her for the first time. "See, it doesn't react unless we try to escape. So we'll keep our mouth shut until we-"
The words died along with the grin as blood drained from Pete's face, turning him as white as the bandages on his head. Finally, he understood why Greg had desperately tried to shut them up. It wasn't because a Spirit Beast was watching them; it was because of a single pale blue eye peering through the peephole.
"Huh," Morgan grunted from behind the door. "You know what? This is all my fault."
With slightly resorted Prana reserves, he infused an arrow of 3% Mana in the door, its direction pointing out towards the hold.
"Rush."
*Cr-ack!* The poorly constructed door tore off its hinges and flew backward, only coming to a stop after hitting the opposite side wall.
Momo, bless her heart for tolerating the theatrics, didn't so much as twitch at the sudden destruction. On the contrary, the Satyrs scrambled into separate corners as much as their shackles would allow.
"I got too… careless when I questioned you, Gregory." Admitted the Professor as he stood in what was previously a doorway, his back stooped forward to keep from bumping the ceiling. "You see my knowledge of how Class Cores function is rather pathetic at the moment. Clearly, I placed far too much weight on what you told me under duress."
"I'm sor-"
"Don't be ridiculous," Morgan ordered, silencing the Assassin with a frown. "Of course, you aren't to blame. Didn't you hear me? This entire mess is my fault."
"Y-yeah, it is, you ca-calamitous bastard." Pete's bravado was failing him, with his whole body trembling with fear, revealing how hollow his sneer was. "That's wh-what you get for un-un underestimating us."
"Perhaps in part." The Professor considered the accusation seriously while scratching Lady Momo between the eyes. "But in hindsight, my thinking is that sloppiness is what really bit us in the ass this time. Now, all of us are going to pay the price for my failure."
His captives flinched as if they were physically struck by the announcement, but neither dared to speak or contradict Morgan. These hardened criminals, who minutes ago were recollecting some of their most heinous and recent crimes like they were wacky shenanigans in the workplace, cowards before their former prisoner.
Seeing their quivering rectangular pupils looking up at him evoked a pang of sympathy from the ecologist, who had dealt with frightened baby goats in the past. The comparison, Morgan knew, was only superficial, but he'd be lying to himself if he didn't acknowledge the feeling.
However, emotions wouldn't be enough to change what needed to happen now. The Satyrs knew too much, and his group's journey had only just begun. Something had to be done.
When Pete finally spotted his hidden audience, Morgan reached out mentally for the Monk to join him in the hold. He had to phrase the request a little vaguely so as to not panic them, but as a result, Ego gave an absentminded answer of, [I'll be there in a few.]
So, with nothing to do but wait, he walked further into the room and joined Pete and Greg on the floor. Looking down on them felt in bad taste, and stooping strained his lower back something fierce. Besides, he could tell someone wanted a better view of the action.
*Pop*
"I feel as if I owe the two of you an explanation of how events led us to this moment." Said the Professor, ignoring the shudders from the others as the Princess took her throne. "We'll call it a reward for discovering my secret, as well as a gift for the information I've gained from meeting you both."
"You don't have to tell us anything!" Squeaked Greg.
"He's right." Pete desperately agreed. "You don't owe us a damned thing."
"Nonsense. We'll never get a chance to speak like this again. So, keep quiet, or I'll ask Momo to encourage your silence."
"Mmm." Growled the Beast, making it clear to all that she favored getting involved.
Her threat was enough to silence the Satyrs, doubly so in the Archer's case as he clamped a hand over his own mouth. Proving definitively that given enough time and repeated head trauma, any lesson can get through even the thickest of skulls.
"Hmmmmmm."
Morgan hummed with a frown, his heterochromatic eyes narrowing dangerously as he gave the cowering Satyrs what they could only perceive as utter loathing. An easy mistake for them to make.
"In my home world, there is a certain way of doing things, a procedure that is quintessential to any pursuit of understanding reality," Morgan said, finally satisfied with how his thoughts were correctly arranged. "Think of it as a method consisting of varying self-refining stages that, if followed with discipline and without hubris, will eventually lead anyone to the answers they seek. In fact, it's by a similar process that you two stumbled upon my little secret. Congratulations, by the way."
Naturally, these Vajrayians in particular, wouldn't have the necessary context to understand what he was referring to, but what did that matter now? Morgan was merely venting some frustration before the deed had to be done.
"In my own preferred method for understanding problems, there are seven steps: Observe → Question → Theorize → Experiment → Analyze → Share → Consensus. That's it, yet my arrogant old ass still thought an untested theory was good enough, and now look at us. None of this would have been necessary if I had just tested the Artifact loophole theory on someone with an actual Class Core, like Greg here. Yet, I couldn't be bothered to do my job right. Can either of you guess why?"
The Professor waited for an answer, though wasn't at all surprised when the only reaction his words prompted was more terror. Of course, any answer they could have provided had to be based on mere speculation, but again, this was Morgan's pity party, and he'd mess with the goat-men if he wanted to. Besides, it's not like they'll ever have to deal with the fallout of their discovery like he would.
"Nobody? That is understandable. However, I'm sure you both can sympathize, as while your group has been stuck out here for days, we have been here for much, much longer. Too long, in fact. So when I saw three boats in the distance, I desperately needed to understand the mystery surrounding the four visitors who came looking for us. Sure, in the end, we got many of the answers we needed, and what is missing can be found in time. Overall, no harm done. Regardless of my result, that doesn't change the fact that I cut corners and underestimated the two of you."
"Honestly," Morgan chuckled dryly. "I feel almost grateful for the reminder that nobody is above making mistakes. And to think I would have gone away with it-"
[You would have gotten away with it if it weren't for those meddling kids?] Interrupted the only being on the planet that could have made that reference.
Although, the Scientist had to wonder if the Spirit knew they had also made a pun as well.
Manifesting right beside the seated Human, the Spirit joined the increasingly cramped storage room, momentarily silencing the quiet sobs from dumb and dumber. Sadly, the calm would be replaced with something far more annoying.
"Thank the merciful Heavens; the Monk has come to save us!" Greg cried as he pulled at the registrants keeping him from throwing himself at the helm of Ego's robes. "Kind Spirit, protect this one and- Pete you beg too! -from this Calamity!"
"Wha? I mean-er. Yeah." Stumbled the Archer, before he too started groveling, in his own way. "Please, merciful Monk, protect this one, me, from the Calamity, and I'll promise we'll give alms next time we go to Temple!"
"Yes! And we'll swear on our Dao and Souls to change our ways!" Greg took the ball and went even further beyond. "I would have never taken this Class if I didn't need the coin, so believe me when I say we'll never associate with the Filo again. We can start volunteering at the Temple."
"WHAT!-" Pete gasped before shifting gears so hard the whiplash would've been enough to snap the other horn. "-about I start putting arrows in any hoofless bastard that speaks ill of the great 108? Can't have ignorant fools spouting Void out of their asses now, can we? The honor of the Faceless Guide must be protected after all!"
The Monk's ancient mask of tempered serenity and reassurances may have fooled the furry fools. Still, Morgan and Momo had to forcibly suppress their laughter at how utterly flabbergasted Ego had to be.
[Morgan,] Ego reached out after half a minute of endless weeping and bargaining. [Did I miss something important?]
[That depends.] He projected, pointedly looking away from the hilarity scene. [At what point did you start listening in?]
[A half second before I made the joke.] Their tone carried with it a note of suspicion but withheld any hint of accusation for the moment.
[Ah.] The Professor winced. [Then, yeah, you may have missed a couple of important events.]
[...Like what?]
----------------------------------------
A brief but rather intense five minutes later, the Spirit manifested on the barge deck, already pacing circles around the open trapdoor. The sight of the restless apparition might have gripped the heart of a pre-Tutorial Human if the setting wasn't under a mid-day tropical sky.
[I can not believe we had to do that!] Fumed Ego once Morgan and his reptilian passenger set foot on deck. [I am having serious moral quandaries even though I can't think of a better alternative, and I do not like it!]
"Welcome to true adulthood." Scoffed an unbidden memory, its speaker having long left this Mortal plane behind. "Leave fantasies like guilt and morals for the children to enjoy."
The Professor's scar suddenly flared in discomfort, and he had to fight the urge to scratch it. In his experience, acknowledging the dead like that only made their grip on the living tighter.
[Well, hopefully, you won't have to get used to the feeling going forward because we've all learned a valuable lesson.] He projected, scanning the endless Olympia Sea all around them.
[What lesson they those two learn after wha-]
"Didn't you say we'd be entering local waters soon?" Morgan forcibly ended the pointless argument as the two of them silently glaring at each other would set off alarm bells.
"I didn't say that." Ego huffed, giving him a look that promised the conversation would be revisited before nodding toward the cabin. "She did."
He followed the motion to find the purple-cloaked figure of Septima Caesar watching them, her body leaning against the staircase rails. Her body language suggested she was relaxed, but the constant micro twitches of her ears and nose at every crashing wave or passing breeze told the Scientist she was anything but relaxed.
"Indeed I did." She said with undisguised amusement as she stood up straight. "Once you're all done enjoying the view, quickly enter the cabin. Once we have crossed the Spell's threshold, a patrol boat will come to intercept us." The Hound began to turn, only to stop and flash him a wolfish smile. "Someone might get hurt if any misunderstandings cause the guards to put any of you in chains."
The Hound entered the cabin without another word, leaving the trio to scratch their heads and search the horizon for whatever this promised view could be.
To be accurate, Ego and Momo were searching. Morgan continued to stare at the cabin window as unease churned his insides.
She knew. Exactly how much remained unclear as he had yet to question Ego about their talk, but at the very least, the Hound knew about his immunity to Core suppression. That in of itself wasn't surprising since if the Satyrs could follow the bread trail, she could do the same. What troubled Morgan was the almost blatant admittance.
But before the Professor's paranoia could jump into action, day became night.
Where the sun had been shining now held a moon that didn't at all resemble the one the Scientist had gotten used to over the last 30 days. This new celestial satellite was slightly smaller, twice as bright, and the light it reflected was closer to gold rather than the silver of moonlight. Yet the sight of a new moon orbiting Olympia was like a molehill before a mountain compared to the night sky.
The stars shining brightly in the night sky weren't only in the wrong position, looking to his untrained eyes like a jumbled mess, but there were more of them. An order of magnitude more…
The Professor had seen an impossible starry sky like this one before. The scale back then was smaller, but he recognized the caster's chaotic style all the same.
"Hey," said Ego, tugging on the lab coat with one hand and directing his attention by pointing with the other. "When Lady Septima mentioned the view, I don't think she was talking about the sky. Am I seeing things, or am I really looking at a mountain that suddenly appeared out of nowhere?"
If the day hadn't been a long series of shocking events and impossible discoveries, he might have just told the Monk that the two of them were seeing things. On any other day, finding a titanic object, large enough to swallow the entire horizon off the vessel's forward end and whose curved sides rose hundreds of meters out of the sea, might have been too much to believe.
Thankfully, today wasn't any other day. Allowing, Morgan to easily accept the truth of what they were all gawking at. This was no mountain. No geological structure could have sides so cracked and rugged it resembled bark more than rock. Moss and lichen clung to that bark, creating farmable hectares of vibrant green that shone in the golden moonlight. What really tipped the scales, though, were the dozen or so roots descending down into the dark waters, each one thicker than skyscrapers.
"You aren't seeing things, " the Professor promised shakily. But you need to understand that we are looking at a stump of a very large tree."
"Ah… I thought as much."