Section Six: A Narrative of Maritime History (Part Two)

Around a century ago, official ships from the Far East first appeared in the ports of the Broomflower Kingdom, following the currents to visit several coastal nations in the east. From then on, every two or three years, a fleet from the Far East would arrive, their initial purpose being to foster friendly relations with the nations of the continent. There was a period of several decades when they did not come; according to information received later, the Emperor of the Celestial Empire had died, replaced by a child emperor, resulting in great internal turmoil. During those decades, Broomflower merchants, determined to secure their supply of goods, braved the unknown and formed fleets to venture to the Far Eastern continent themselves.

Thus, the Kirk-type sailing ships were continually improved to endure ocean voyages, and the shipyards of the Broomflower Kingdom began to produce caravels. These ships were similar to the carracks of today, but since the flush-seam method was not yet adopted, their displacement remained severely limited. Driven by the lure of profit, the merchants manned these vessels and forced their way across the ocean to the Far East. That era of navigation became known as the Bloody Voyages, for countless fleets were assembled, only to perish at sea. People came to realize that the dangers of the ocean could sometimes far surpass those of the land.

Yet those reckless souls who succeeded and prospered only inspired more to take up the challenge, thus opening up the maritime trade routes. In contrast, the Celestial Empire of the Far East seemed less enthusiastic about such trade. According to private remarks from their emissaries, more than half their reason for coming to the western continent was to display imperial grandeur; there was little overseas worth risking their lives for year after year.

This situation changed dramatically about a hundred years ago, owing to two men. One was Manila, who invented the coordinate system but was declared a heretic and burned alive by the Church. Navigators applied the coordinate system and division of star zones to their charts, making routes more reliable. However, the greatest contribution came from Hipparchus, Father of Navigation in Landia. Born the son of a shipyard worker, he was unremarkable for the first thirty years of his life, but at thirty-one, he suddenly became a genius. He deciphered a major secret of the Far Eastern official ships and invented and improved the flush-seam method. It can be said that it was thanks to such a genius that Landia’s shipbuilding technology underwent such rapid development in those decades. He is especially praiseworthy for founding a navigation school and a shipbuilding academy with his own earnings, allowing the entire southern maritime industry to catch up with the east. For this, he is hailed as the Father of Navigation for Landia and indeed for the South.

However, even a figure as great as this met a tragic end. Just as he was about to enter old age, the Church launched a sudden investigation against him, leading to his decline and death. At fifty-five, the Church announced suspicions of heresy and sent the Tribunal to investigate, sparking fierce protests among the southern nations and nearly causing a popular revolt. Ultimately, the Church was forced to guarantee his safety, yet refused to drop the charge of blasphemy. After four years of investigation, no clear evidence was found, but the Father of Navigation had already passed away, leaving to the world only the prototype plans for the carrack.

The Celeste was docked at Herdasin. Kaplan rented a warehouse at the port, transferring crate after crate of goods brought back from the Far East—spices, silk, porcelain, tea, and more—into storage. The first mate, Anderson, began visiting the merchants who had placed orders prior to their voyage. Some goods needed to be liquidated quickly; after nearly three years at sea, the crew, Kaplan included, was in urgent need of cash. Fortunately, there were buyers waiting from before their departure. Otherwise, in just a few days, Kaplan would have had trouble paying even the port fees and warehouse rent. True, if worst came to worst, they could sell off the goods immediately, but if others sensed their desperation, they would surely force down the price.

Wei Wuyi and the sailors rested aboard for a night. The next day, the merchants who had arranged with Kaplan arrived, bags of silver coins in hand, to claim their goods. After liquidating part of the cargo, Kaplan breathed a sigh of relief. He commissioned the port’s commerce officer and city trading firms to help find buyers able to take the rest in bulk, while he began paying the promised wages to the sailors.

The terms of payment for the crew had been clear from the outset. Upon hiring, Kaplan, as employer, would advance one-tenth of their wages so the sailors could settle their affairs at home. After setting sail, they received another tenth for daily expenses; upon reaching their destination and starting the return voyage, another tenth for the homeward journey. The remainder would only be paid upon returning to the port of origin. If a sailor broke any rules or their contract during the journey, the employer had the right to withhold the rest of their wages and reclaim any advances, depending on the severity of the breach.

This time, evidently, all but the unfortunate Lea received their due; Lea had been dismissed in Victoria Harbor, but Kaplan, to his credit, had not tried to recover the money already paid.

That night, the sailors were all smiles, each having received a substantial sum; among them, Amango was no exception. Kaplan, with great respect, also presented Wei Wuyi with a small pouch of Landian silver coins. Thanks to the South’s prosperity—especially Landia’s robust economy and trade—these coins were particularly strong and distinctive, bearing the image of a sailing ship on one side and a golden olive branch on the other, symbolizing trade, navigation, and peace.

Wei Wuyi had not intended to accept the money, but on second thought, he would be staying on this continent for a while longer, seeing the sights and hoping to find an old friend. Having some money on hand would be useful, especially since he planned to help Amango. Even if he did not want it for himself, it would be handy to have for Amango’s sake.

After selling half the cargo and paying the port fees, rent, and wages, Kaplan still had more than half the proceeds left. The handsome profits of overseas trade made even this usually cautious man burn with ambition, wondering if, after selling the rest, he should set out again. Yet the hardships and dangers of the voyage haunted him, especially their encounter with the Feixi people. Most of the older sailors were unwilling to go back to sea for now, preferring to rest. So even if Kaplan wanted to sail again, he would have trouble replacing them in the short term.

But as an old saying in the Celestial Empire went, “The days to come are long.” Kaplan did not mind letting the veteran sailors leave the Celeste for a time; indeed, he decided to treat them to an evening of feasting and merriment.

Wei Wuyi and Amango were, of course, included. Together with the crew, they went to the most renowned eatery in Herdasin, where Kaplan had already reserved a private room.