Chapter 1: A Departure and A Chance
Being a passenger on a Victorian steamer was not a thing I had expected to experience before my untimely demise, and yet, here I was, watching the slowly distancing port of Portsmouth, filled nearly to bursting with ships. My second homeland was something I learned to love – a combination of decent birth and being a citizen of the global hegemon on the planet. The career paths were, admittedly, limited, but what else was new. At the very least, I was a good enough worker to reach upwards to the position of the dreaded middle management of a certain company. And thus, I was onboard an obviously fresh off the docks icebreaker ship – the HMS Erebus. Truly, when life gives you lemons, you should start shoving sugar down your throa-
"Why does life give you lemons, Sir?" The voice of my loyal aide reached me from my side, his tanned, unamused face looking at me in question. Ade Browns, real name unknown, surname equally obscured, was a big help for me during the last five years.
"It's a phrase. Lemons aren't nice to eat raw." I answered him as I turned, my back now leaning on the ship's railing, wind tussling the hair- "So, when you eat raw lemons, you are supposed to sprinkle the slices with sugar to make it taste nice."
He thought for a moment before nodding- "I see."
An odd silence settled on the ship's steel-clad stern, interrupted by the sounds of sea, hum of the steam engine and distant honks and whistles of the port. I wasn't sure if he got that.
"It's a metaphor, Ade. It means, when life is difficult, you work to make it better."
"Understood, Sir."
I opened my mouth to speak, but decided against it. It was a coin toss of him either humoring me or being genuine.
Turning back, I couldn't help but let a tired breath escape, condensed air swiftly vanishing within November's seawind. This life was great in some strange way. So different, yet familiar, as I discovered that people didn't really change with time. Though, watching the distant, almost spider-like due to their thin limbs Automatons work within the port facilities was another reminder that one may escape the people, but one can not escape our circumstances.
It took another dozen minutes until Ade decided to clear his throat in a reminder – I was to take part in the first meeting aboard as my boss', Sir Alistair Pembroke's chief secretary. A position I spent half a decade working for after finishing Edinburgh University, for a very specific reason. Taking a glance at another flag flying right beneath the Union Jack was another reminder that I worked for Imperial Exploration Company and I received a posting in the middle of nowhere. Father was devastated at the news; not me though. I was a happy Brit indeed – we were going North to build a Generator after all.
Pushing myself away from the cold steel railings, I walked towards the ship's bowels, my aide in tow. The deck was still filled with crates, either being covered with tarp and rope or dragged down in the cargo hold; people, both sailors and workers working or mingling until the cold forced them within; a single seagull occupying our mast, a cursed bird which nearly ruined my coat. It was chaotic, but I liked it. It felt alive.
Walking down the steps leading towards the smoking room someone decided was necessary on a glorified cargo ship, we had to dodge other passengers, rushing sailors, and members of our engineering detachment, who were busy going over the ship and either nodding in reluctant approval, grumble in annoyance, or fix whatever was too offensive to their professional sensibilities. Truth be told, the fact that the ship was only technically completed didn't fill me with confidence, but there was nothing I could do.
Stepping up to the door, I entered to see most of our current leadership in place. Luckily, I wasn't the last one. Frankly, it was pleasant to see punctuality, God knows the fashionable lateness grated on my nerves. Whoever thought that a convention created for the purpose of letting hosts have more time for last minute fixes spread to the business meetings was a mystery I didn't uncover. Unfortunately for me, oftentimes my colleagues didn't share my views and wholeheartedly believed that arriving on time was a faux pas equal to spitting on the Queen's portrait.
While Ade went to one of the seats by the wall to be a silent observer, I took a seat by my boss' side, hands reaching for the prepared papers and a quilled pen, ready to take notes, despite the presence of a man tasked with precisely this. For some reason, Alistair preferred my writing. I never asked him why – the man was a caricature of a bureaucrat going full circle. He never smiled, he never joked; in fact, I questioned if he ever drank anything but tea or ate something with more spices than a pinch of salt.
It took a couple of minutes before our captain, a man looking more wide than tall with a mustache reaching past his ears, arrived and took the head seat, his head nearly blinding me with its reflection.
The captain gave a nod to the notetaker. His nasal voice began the tiresome process of opening the meeting-
"The assembly is taking place on the Friday of November 13th, the year of our Lord 1885. Present are:
Lord Edmund Ashcombe, Viscount Northmarch, our Lord Protector of the Northern Settlement.
Sir Alistair Pembroke, Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath.
Dr. Henry Caldwell, Fellow of the Royal Society of Edinburgh.
James Calderwick, Under-Secretary for Civic Order and Provisioning.
Arthur Pembroke, Captain of HMS Erebus."
He raised his head briefly, looking at each of us as if making sure we didn't disappear while he was reading off the list. After his gaze stayed too long on my aide and I interrupted him with a cough, he blushed and continued -"Let this meeting be conducted with due diligence in the service of Her Majesty the Queen."
Lord Ashcombe, looking at place with practice of an experienced politician began with a speech- "Gentlemen, I am honoured to be entrusted with leading this expedition and swear to all of you that I shall see it succeed and exceed the tasks set by The Crown and The Parliament,-" he briefly nodded at each of us in turn with a reserved smile -"as you all are no doubt aware, our task is to set up a colony and scientific base at the eastern coast of Greenland and facilitate an experimental creation of…"
To be honest, I spaced out. It was more of the same. Official meetings such as this one, especially of the meet-and-greet type, are such that if you've been at a few, you've been at all of them. It was necessary, of course. Despite the rapid industrialization, the signs of the aristocratic framework never vanished. The meetings often tended to prolong without any real need for that – unless it was a gathering of eggheads arguing about the correct thickness of the pipes or something else.
Despite my musings, my hand never strayed. I wrote down the bullet points for my boss, highlighted particularly important words, underlined certain phrases to remember – it was an absolute waste of ink, but orders were orders. It took an hour of platitudes and pleasantries, another three of Dr. Caldwell's less than enthusiastic presentation-slash-explanation about our purpose, with dramatically sighing Ashcombe, who made sure to perfectly time the correct words such as: 'Magnificent, the British industry never ceases to amaze me' or 'Ah, to dig to the heart of the Earth! Truly, only such ambition can propel our nation to never before seen heights', and so on. He was so heartfelt in his exclamations, I feared our head engineer might buy his practiced charm – luckily the man looked experienced enough to see it through. The last thing I wanted was an impressionable wrench-lover trying to meet the targets by ignoring proper standards. I had had too many dreams of exploding heating towers to allow something like this.
The meeting ended with a brief applause and another short encouraging speech by Lord Ashcombe. Once given our leave, we all swiftly made our way back to our places. In my case it was my quarters – a small, but private room with a cot, some bolted furniture and a porthole showing darkened seas.
After entering inside, I checked my bags for anything missing and after digging through took out a couple books I grabbed for reading on the way. Looking between the cover of Huckleberry Finn and the starry sky outside I closed the book after opening the first page. I wasn't in the mood.
It was nerves, I reckoned. This was everything I worked so far for – getting a seat on a ship destined to build one of the great metal towers that would provide the heat against the coming frost. It should've felt better, uplifting perhaps. It didn't. The only thing I felt was fear. It wasn't clear to me whether it was fear of possible failure, or dread of what I and others would have to go through until we die. The games I remembered from my past life were magnificent. Soulful, in the mood they crafted, letting me live through stories of imagined people the player was tasked to lead and save. But realizing that I was now a part of them, back when I first saw an Automaton helping build a great bridge across the river in my little town changed me. The memories didn't come with fondness anymore, but only dread.
I didn't notice when I dozed off – but bright blue light awakened me mid-sleep. Blinking my eyes in confusion, it took me a few moments to realize what I was seeing. The words registered swiftly in my mind, but understanding came a tad later. And when it did, my reaction was rather honest- "What the fuck!?"
Congratulations
[You've received access to Chaos Gacha!]
[Figuring out the world you're in from obvious clues - 1x Bronze Ticket]
[Getting a place on HMS Erebus - 1x Bronze Ticket]
[Attaining a position of relative importance - 2x Bronze Ticket]
[Surviving the first meeting of the expedition's leadership - 1x Bronze Ticket]
[Roll Y/N?]
I didn't know what to think, but for the first time in ages I felt a note of real hope rise within my chest. There was a hick-up within that feeling when I re-read the last feat I achieved, but it was distant in my mind. Taking a deep breath, I raised my arm. I was glad nobody could see me, as my finger trembled when I touched the pure white [Y] floating before me.
[Rolling..]
[Crow]
|Trash Familiar|
A very smart and loyal crow companion with intelligence on the level of a human, she can look for and fetch shiny things or do things a crow could otherwise do.
[Cloak of Billowing]
|Trash Item|
DnD - A fancy embroidered red cloak that can billow majestically even in the absence of wind.
[Power Fist]
|Common Item|
Fallout - A pneumatic standard power fist that can help the average Joe put a crater on the wall with their fist. The power fist adds a static power boost to your punches to the level of a superhuman. But in the hands of someone who is already a superhuman, it is not too helpful.
[Mental Image Blocking]
|Common Skill|
Batman - You have learned a technique to block out mind readers and telepaths by masking your real thoughts with conjured mental images, taught to you by the ever-elusive Tibetan Monks
[Chloranthy Ring]
|Uncommon Item|
Dark Souls - This ancient ring, engraved with a large green flower, is of unknown origin. Hastens the regeneration of stamina and recovery from exhaustion.
For a moment I sat still, frozen as if something paralysed my body. Admittedly, the adjectives describing the tickets should've clued me in – but in that moment I felt nothing but pure joy, until the rewards sunk in. The chuckle which escaped me sounded a little broken.
Shaking my head as if to chase the disappointment away, I turned to find the items strewn across my cot. I took a moment to light up the candles to add some light. The first item I took note of was the ring. It looked like a flower carved from dull jade, the petals inlaid within a white-gray base on unknown metal. The way the stones reflected light caught my attention – it looked like it was taking in the light, the reflected autumn yellow color feeling more alive than the gemstone should. Putting it on I didn't feel a thing – assumably I was too rested to notice something change.
The technique felt odd. I suddenly found it easier to imagine pictures in my mind, easily remembering the sight I'd seen from the ship when we were just leaving. Aside from that, I didn't see the point. Perhaps if I decided to take up my mother's hobby would it prove helpful.
The Power Fist was quite curious. Opening the green, 'Property of U.S.' marked box it was delivered in, I saw a picture perfect recreation from the fourth installment of the franchise. I wondered why it chose this one, but disregarded the thought within a moment – I had no clue. Hefting the thing out of the box showed me that it was deceptively light. It looked like it weighed over twenty pounds, but felt closer to ten. It was the size of the whole thing – big enough to reach nearly to the elbow once I fit the arm inside. Waving it around was amusing for but a minute, the fear of accidental discharge forced me to put it back. Right when I was about to close the box I noticed a small booklet lying within. Leafing through was a pleasant, if minor, surprise – it was an instruction manual. Admittedly, the content gave me a laugh, as whoever wrote it made the right decision to explain as if it was targeted at children.
Putting it back down, I picked up the cloak. It was midnight black, shimmering with dark blue light. The texture felt like some thick velvety material, while its hem was decorated with golden engravings that felt more metallic to the touch. Some sort of short overcoat was upon the cloak's shoulders and behind the neck was a warm-looking hood. Putting it on, because 'Why not?' was amusing – it instantly started to billow dramatically in unseen wind. It was absolutely useless, except for being warm. Or if I decide to craft a wizarding persona – who knew, perhaps I would become a real magician in a year.
Last of the questionably helpful things was the crow. It was, admittedly, a beautiful specimen. Surprisingly big, being around 20 inches long, or two and a half that in centimeters, with black plumage which reflected the candle's light in color of fresh ink. While I was looking it over, its surprisingly intelligent eyes observed me in turn. Flipping its wings, it jumped on my shoulder and with a surprisingly swift turn aligned its head to mine, so my left one looked into its right.
I stared into the soulless black eye. It stared somehow harder into mine.
"Good evening, good sir."
"Caw." The bird replied. I ran with it-"How are you doing this fine evening?"
"Caw." A truly remarkable observation. My head gave a tiny nod- "I quite assent with your view. Our situation is, forgive my bluntness, quite fucked, wouldn't you agree?"
"Caw." I hummed- "Indeed."
It continued to stare. I bonked it on the beak with my nose. It bonked me back.
"Are you hungry?" Bonk.
"That's not very pleasant." It nodded.
"Ah, I see. Forgive me, good sir."
It fluffed up its feathers and somehow reminded me of Lord Ashcombe. I blinked. "Would you mind terribly if I call you Sir Ash?" It turned its head side-to-side.
"That's wonderful. Now, unfortunately the window is sealed, and my day was quite stressful. I hope you won't mind sleeping here for now?"
It looked over the room as if it was a pigsty. I didn't know how I knew, but I did. It confused me – I ignored it.
"Caw." Was the reply, before the bird began to nest atop my books by the candle's side.
After putting the things under the cot for now, I checked that the door was locked before settling in the too cold bed. Turning to the bird, I noticed it kept watching. Glancing at the candle, I had an idea- "Could you kindly extinguish that?"
Black eyes looked at me, before with a swift strike the wick was snapped and thrown across the room, the fire consuming itself before it reached the floor. Watching the place where its ashes approximately landed, I turned to look at the crow, noting once again how glossy its feathers looked under the starlight. There was only one reaction I could make- "Splendid."
Turning in the bed, I pulled the blanket closer before closing my eyes at last. My last thought before the sleep took me was simple – at least it would be funnier from now.
AN: This is a re-written first chapter, you can find the original in the Appendix within the 'Legacy Chapters' threadmark.Last edited: Sunday at 2:06 PM Like ReplyReport Reactions:Malkuth, Albert Scoot, LollipoPReapeR and 603 othersOriginalTasteDec 28, 2025Add bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 2: A Boiler and A Burn View contentOriginalTasteNot too sore, are you?Dec 29, 2025Add bookmark#13Chapter 2: A Boiler and A Burn
I woke up to an unholy screech being made too close to my ear. Jerking away, my eyes blinked quickly to clear out the sleep from them – it was a crow. Looking it in the eyes, it took me a moment to remember everything that happened a day before.
"Did you have to do that?"
"Caw."
"Right. Talking with birds."
"Caw?"
I gave it an unimpressed stare- "Do I look like a bir- nevermind. Wait here, I'll get you outside in a minute."
Swiftly taking a 'bath', which meant washing my face with cold water and brushing my teeth with Colgate™ tooth powder, and then putting on a traveling suit, which meant more hardy textiles and less stiffness in the clothing's corners took a good ten minutes. The blasted bird began to protest my slowness within two minutes, so when I left the room my hair was a bit more rumpled then it was supposed to be.
Once I stepped outside and met face to face with Ade's fist, raised to softly knock on my door, an odd silence settled. The reason being, of course, the feathery menace occupying my shoulder.
"Ade. I have a task for you."
He straightened, arms held in parade rest- "Sir?"
I carefully lifted the bird from my shoulder, requiring both hands to hold it steady- "Please, assist Sir Ash in reaching fresh air."
His eyes travelled between myself and black beast. A sigh escaped through his nose, when the crow jumped on his shoulder- "By your leave, Sir."
I didn't show anything but calm assurance on my face- "Go on."
"Actually, Sir, I came to deliver the schedule."
I stopped after taking a single step, before taking it back. My hand shot forward, while I gave him an unamused glare- "So, where is it?"
He gave me a sheet of paper- "Here, Sir."
"Ade, it's empty. There are just two requests to meet at my convenience. It's not a schedule, it's a request form."
"It is what it is, Sir."
I pinched the bridge of my nose- "Just get the bird outside."
It was a few years already and I still wasn't sure when he was pulling my leg, or when he was completely serious. His poker face was just so impressive; I was quite glad that he never joined any of the cart games I partook of on occasion.
I nearly reached the canteen when I got interrupted by a soot-stained man. Were it not for the quality of his leathers and overdesigned googles, I would've assumed him to be a boiler worker.
"Undersecretary, Sir?" he asked, before speaking again without letting me even begin greeting him in turn- "Dr. Caldwell wants to talk with you at your earliest convenience." And without even a simple 'good day' he rushed away. I reckoned the man would've run had the corridors not been so filled with other passengers.
Deciding to accept the invitation literally, I continued my interrupted way to the ship's eatery. It looked serviceable, though that was a stretched compliment at best. Compared to the smoking room where we held the meeting, this one felt more like an afterthought, despite the role it plays onboard: wooden walls, floor and ceiling with uncovered beams and steel superstructure peeking out; visibly used furniture bolted to the floor: scuffed chairs, tables with odd wounds and discolored patches as well as freshly painted gaslamps hanging from the walls. The only saving grace was the smell of freshly cooked food – an oddly appetizing mix of fried bacon, bread and fish. It was the time when the classical 'British Breakfast' was on the rise, the hearty spread of cooked morning food being in the 'vogue' since a decade or two among the middle class.
Grabbing a filled wooden plate from the kitchen's counter, I took my time. It might feel somewhat petty to Caldwell, but if it was something truly dire, I was sure he would've insisted on a personal meeting by coming by himself. Thus I spent a good dozen minutes eating and thinking if assault and battery would be a proper response for the watered down tea. It was the first day of the trip for God's sake.
Once finished, I brought the cutlery back to the counter before stepping outside and making my way to the boiler rooms situated closer to the stern, a bit atypical for the vessel of the time, but its experimental nature played a role in this as well.
Finding Caldwell wasn't difficult if simply remarkably annoying. I had to travel to the steaming hot boiler room, where I was directed to his office, which was empty but unlocked, then to the deeper bottom decks for the engineering room, which had a singular tired engineer fighting against the seduction of falling asleep and failing. Shaking him awake, my quest for direction was answered with a brief moan containing letters 'b', 'o' and 'l'. Shaking him more enthusiastically awake, he managed to point me to the boiler room. Further questioning revealed that Dr. Caldwell was seen visiting different parts of the ship in no particular order, so I was forced to rely on luck. It didn't help me,but turned away with a harumph.
The visit to the boiler room resulted in another direction to the engine room, where I was informed that I'd missed my target by a breath. I had to circle back to the office to find him cursing whatever poor soul didn't lock the door as he slammed it right before I could shout my greeting. Taking a moment to fix my rumpled outfit and hair, I knocked before letting myself in.
Walking in, I noticed the thin figure of our Chief Engineer leaning over blueprints and diaries that I couldn't understand. At least they looked pleasing to my eye – always had a soft spot for hand-written technical documents. There was something to precision accomplished purely by human hands.
"Good morning, Doctor. One of your men told me that you wished to see me?"
He didn't turn to me to answer- "I did. We have a big problem."
Those were the last words I wished to hear from a man with his responsibilities- "Could you kindly explain?"
He closed the booklet a tad too loudly, before dropping himself on a chair- "We lack coal."
"I beg your pardon?"
He looked at me like I was a particularly stupid student. The flashback to my days in Edinburgh University was somewhat unwelcome- "The fuel for boilers – we lack it."
I kept a polite smile on, despite wishing otherwise- "I perfectly understand what coal is for, Doctor. My question is on why we lack it, when I was sure there were huge bags being loaded but a day prior."
Caldwell opened his mouth, before the fight left him and he slacked, leaning on the table- "My apologies, that was unbecoming of me, the issue is not your fault. You see, Mr. Calderwick, someone delivered the wrong fuel to the ship."
"I am afraid I do not follow. Surely we can make due with a subpar variant? I am afraid the schedule is rather strict regarding deviations." And that was putting it mildly. They didn't say that gross failure would result in a firing squad, but the legalese was close enough in the end result that a bullet would actually be preferable. A single visit to a penal mining colony was enough for both of my lives.
He was prepared to again explain it like I was mentally-deficient, but my polite smile and non-combative stance reassured the man enough to properly explain- "Technically – yes. Practically – absolutely not. The engine this ship has is a beast. It's equivalent to ones that we put into our frigates, but smaller."
He took one of the blueprints and began to show me some of the parts as if I knew what each of them was- "The issue is that it is sensitive to the level of pressure it can tolerate and steam that courses through the pipes." He barely stopped to take a breath, his hand following the drafted piping- "Any engine is, but this one much more so. The wetly burning lignite they stuffed our coal storage with will slowly erode the turbines, nevermind the thermal stress that the boiler will go through."
I sensed the moment he regretted the honesty he spoke with. I knew why – damaging equipment to meet the margins and blaming the inheritors for its state was a tactic often used these days. Luckily for him, we would still be using this ship for longer. Unluckily for me, I now had to figure out a solution.
"I see. I will talk with my superior, I promise that he will put the issue under all due consideration. Tell me, Doctor, do you have any suggestions? I must admit, I'm unsure where we can procure what you require – I assume simple grey won't do?"
He furrowed his brows- "Grey? Ah, you mean bituminous? It's not grey- in any case, no. This engine was specifically designed to work off anthracite. Anything lesser will do irreparable damage to the innards."
I kept the smile on, despite the desire to scream at someone- "I see. I'll get back to you once Sir Pembroke decides on the course of action." I tipped an unseen hat- "Good Day."
Marching outside, I made my way back to the upper decks, the office space being my destination. After a brief knock, a strong voice invited me in. My boss looked at me with the same expression I'd seen him use for the last five years – indifference with a speckle of annoyance.
"Chief Engineer has a complaint, Sir."
He didn't speak, but a simple nod was a signal to continue- "It seems someone misplaced the fuel the ship was due, Sir. The coal we have is… subpar for the usage within the exemplar devices aboard."
"James, drop the flowery language, I told you before. Now, explain the issue properly."
I kept forgetting that he disliked wasted time to the point he counted the words leaving his mouth. To be fair, he was something of a rare case among the Imperial bureaucracy. An uncorruptable, honorable follower of law and order.
The explanation was swift as he asked for. He didn't react in any way that one might see. Had I not worked for him so long, I wouldn't have noticed the way his forehead creased a tad more than always.
"I understand. I shall summon you when you are required. Dismissed."
I left after giving him a brief nod of acknowledgment. The issue was out of my hands for now, at least until he decided on the course of action. I didn't expect it to take long.
Going to the more communal office next door – a place for me, my aide and a couple of extra clerks, I found it to be empty except for a single sitting man. It was the notetaker from yesterday's meeting.
Clearing my throat to grab his attention and purposefully stepping up to him, I gave a nod and asked- "Good day. I'm afraid I haven't catched your name, Mr…?"
A second turned to nearly half a minute, before I cleared my throat again and received no reaction. I waved my hand before his eyes – no reaction. Stepping closer, I noticed the barely moving chest of his – at least he was still alive. The balding man has figured out the art of sleeping with his eyes open. I was reluctantly impressed. It didn't stop me from bonking him with a nearby book.
A bang and a hiss of a man who hit his knee on the wooden table too hard for health was the result. "Bloody hells, who is… Uhm, I mean, good morning to you, Sir. May I help you?"
I put on my 'disappointed superior expression #2'- "You may, by stating your name and not being caught sleeping next time. It's barely nine o'clock!"
At least his reply was swift- "Ah, of course, Sir. Couldn't sleep, Sir. Sorry, Sir, name's Jakob, Jakob Tullt at your service. Sir."
A frankly atrocious bow from behind the desk was his finisher on my psyche. The fact that he hit the burning candle with his forehead was too much. The sudden swelling burn mark situated just above his nose led to a hiss and a cry of pain.
It was at that moment that I decided to strategically retreat. It became obvious to me that the morning was cursed, so it became prudent to wait for the clock to strike at least the first hour of the afternoon, in order to evade any more events. Ignoring the poor man, I quickly grabbed the work scheduled for my station and made my leave, my legs leading me to my personal quarters.
Sitting within a tad too cold room, I went over the reports and ledgers. It wasn't anything of great interest: notes on the amounts of this and that, some brief portfolios of workers, another copy of the schedule we were supposed to follow. The main part of work was summarizing the documentation for my boss. Despite knowing that he will eventually find time to go over originals, the reality was that until he did I was the one to bring him the main points for consideration. It was boring, but I was used to it.
Finishing it didn't take much time and I found myself with nothing much to do. The desire to play with the items I received last night was there, but I wasn't in the mood.
Knowing that someone decided it was a good idea to try and perform a procurement fraud on IEC bothered me too much. Corruption was wide-spread, that was true. But it was never so blatant – especially within this company, one which was infamous for the punishments it gave out.
Personal greed often led men to do something foolish, but it didn't fit. Wrong place, wrong ship, wrong company. There weren't many men brave enough to defraud IEC, but they did exist. They also almost always got caught and tried as traitors to the Empire. But for some reason it didn't feel like this was the case.
Drumming my fingers on the table, I watched the distant English shores pass by, as the sun reflected upon the calm and steady sea. I reckoned that nearly an hour went by until I stopped. The possible culprits were too numerous to count – trying to guess who pulled a fast one felt more like a lost cause. Though one thought couldn't escape my head- 'Was the ship's quartermaster simply incompetent, or was he in the know?'
AN: Not much to say – a lot has been re-written, but the beats stayed mostly the same.Last edited: Monday at 11:05 PM Like ReplyReport Reactions:artemlsodja, Malkuth, LollipoPReapeR and 471 othersOriginalTasteDec 29, 2025Add bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 3: Crowning Achievement View contentOriginalTasteNot too sore, are you?Dec 30, 2025Add bookmark#21Chapter 3: Crowning Achievement
The rest of the day passed without any new surprises. I've met some of the worker representatives, Bob and Bean (yes, he is, in fact, Mr.Bean on papers and looked like The Undertaker from WWE), our surgeon Bartholomew and his staff, was ambushed by a monk and spent half an hour explaining to him that he managed to board the wrong vessel and the last missionary ship departed in 1883.
I was of the opinion that poor Antonius misunderstood politeness for interest and someone up in the Port Authority just shafted him on something with sufficiently far away destination, but one thing for certain, the man doesn't know the meaning of 'giving up' and decided to bring Word of our Lord and Savior to poor souls on the frozen coasts of the northernmost island. I wonder if Greenland is even considered an island.
I wished him luck converting the local fauna in the future. Maybe penguins will inherit this frozen ball in a few centuries as its most advanced species and write down in their holy book the name of Antonius as their prophet.
My musings on possible Spheniscidae civilization stopped once I arrived back in my room. Sitting down at my desk and presenting Sir Ash with his tribute of some dried fish I requisitioned from kitchens, I lit up my gas lamp and watched him peck his meal.
Glancing away, I took a look through the porthole in my cabin. The setting sun outside painted the sea with light and with it being a rather windless day made for a still picture. The sea took a beautiful colour I couldn't name, besides being an intriguing mix of its own deep, nearly dark blue and orange-red of the setting sun.
For some reason, it made me chuckle. The contrast between the ship's hidden troubles and the peace of the outside ocean helped me realize that I have no need to rush for the simple reason that I can't do anything. I can't wave my hand and solve the Ice Age, invent some limitless engine of heat or at least make everyone work together. I don't think I noticed how strung up I was.
Knock-Knock
"Sir, it's me. May I come in?" Sharing a look with Sir Ash, who gave me a nod, I invited Abe inside.
I will freely admit that I've expected some sort of visible reaction to the bird's presence. A brief glance, slightly raised eyebrow and a confirming double-blink was all I've got. Sometimes I wonder if it's his natural reaction or if he's simply mastered his poker face during some mysterious event.
"Is that a raven, Sir?" I shook my head, "A crow, Ade." I pet the bird's head. "I would like you to meet Sir Ash, a new crew member of our glorious expedition."
"I see, Sir. Does the captain know? Sir."
I blinked. "Of course not. In fact, I fear our captain doesn't consider Corvus species as potential crew members at all!" I dramatically raised my hands in outrage.
"Hence, my dear Ade, as a more slick member of our three-person conspiracy, I task you with assisting Sir Ash in escaping his temporary confinement to the deck."
I turned to the crow, "And you, Sir, listen to Ade and assist him to the best of your abilities!"
"Caw!" The bird cawed and nodded seriously, before staring at Ade. Ominously.
My aide gave a barely perceptibly sigh, before coming closer and opening up his surprisingly roomy winter coat before inviting my familiar inside.
"Ade, is that a gun?"
"No sir."
I know he's bullshitting me and wonder for a moment how he misunderstood my summons for an invitation to take part in assassination attempt. Or whatever it is he thought we would need a gun for.
"I see. Ah, before you go, Sir Ash is a very intelligent gentleman, so please, consider employing his skills and expertise in your duties."
"Of course, Sir." A nod, from Sir Ash, a light bow from Ade and I've succeeded in shoving the logistics of caring for the bird on someone else.
He was turning around to leave, but stopped and turned once I called him out- "And before you leave, please make some friends from the engineering contingent on our ship. Dr. Caldwell shared some concerning news with me today. In regards to our fuel situation."
Another nod and my two loyal companions left my quarters for the night.
Now, I've considered trying some spy games, whole Sherlock style investigations and espionage, but I've come to a simple negative conclusion - I have no damn clue how to even start. We are on a ship, for God's sake, a nearly half meter long bird with double its length in wingspan would be lucky to manage to reach bottom decks and not end in someone's soup!
Shoving that whole issue to my aide was, perhaps, irresponsible, but he's always been better at figuring out people's secrets and then spilling them to me, where I can blackmail poor schmucks for whatever reason required for my continued life enjoyment.
Taking a last glance at the, by now, near pitch dark outside, between one blink and the next I've noticed another screen appearing before my eyes. Makes me wonder if it's tied to certain hour in the evening or some other arbitrary condition
[You've created your first espionage ring - x1 Bronze Ticket]
[Roll Y/N?]
I, of course, rolled. I didn't expect much. I was right not to.
[Rolling…]
[Object Attraction]
|Trash Ability|
MHA - You can slowly draw small objects toward you, useful for when you don't want to get up from the bed to grab the remote.
I wish I could say I was disappointed. I wasn't. After the day of questionable events and the circus of the evening I was just done.
'At least,' I thought, 'with the cloak I have enough to convince some fools of being a wizard.'
The moment the ability slotted in, I've had the oddest feeling of remembering to do something I've never known how to. Specifically, wave my hand at objects as if I was pulling to myself with strings tied between my fingers and the thing I 'attract'.
Pointing my hand at one of the lying spare boots I've brought, I assume a properly wizard-y position before pausing.
Five minutes later, after putting the Cloak of Bellowing and Cloranthy Ring on myself, I re-assume the position.
*Object Attraction!*
*Thump*
*Object Attraction!*
*Thump*
*Object Attraction!*...
It took me a few minutes. Overall? Not too shabby. Useless in combat, crafting and anything except convenience, like picking up a pen, but setting up an object to be pulled down on my victim from a shelf above has… potential.
If I think hard enough maybe I'll even convince myself.
Putting my wizard getup back in the chest, I went to sleep. Though, I did try to 'attract' my Power Fist. I failed.
***
The third day of our journey continued with us still hugging the eastern coast of Britain and the oddly warm weather for November staying.
Freshing myself up, I've descended to the mess hall. After a customary exchange of greetings with Ade, we've finished our meal before continuing to our office.
Once inside, I've tasked Jakob with confirming head counts of our workers and waiting for him to leave, turned toward my aide.
"I doubt you've learned something, but, any news?"
He shook his head. "No, Sir. Everything is in order so far."
"I see, I see. Very well then, inform me once something changes"
"Of course, Sir."
Once I took my seat, I began reviewing the leftover reports from the last few days. Checking and cross-checking the inventory, members of the crews, what personal files I had on hand(not enough, half are missing, a result of our rushed departure and last hour changes), I spent the next few hours working before retreating for lunch.
After a somewhat enjoyable meal of fish soup, ham and biscuits with a cup of tea, I returned to the sweat-covered, thin figure of Jakob nursing a black-eye on his seat.
Ade continued to his place without batting an eye, while I counted to five in my head before speaking-"I see your work was more exciting than expected."
He jumped out of his seat at hearing my voice, "Ah, Sir, a misunderstanding, Sir."
"Right. And the reason for it?" God forgive my sins if it's something asinine.
"Ah, I fell."
I stared at him. He noticed something very interesting at his feet. I stared harder.
"I can leave you at the next port, you know. I'm sure a replacement will be extremely easy to find." Jakob gulped before answering. "I swear, Sir, it was an accident! I met a friend, you see, and he was very excited to see me!" He finished with an aggressive nod.
I turned my head to the heavens. 'I have a question… for God. When did my depressing survival genre change to comedy drama?'
Naturally, no answer came. I could only sigh in exasperation. "I see. Please, go see a doctor. And, you have finished my task, yes?"
Another nod, "Report is on your table, Sir. Good day to you, Sir!" He fled the room with, perhaps, more haste than necessary.
"Ade, is this ship cursed?" "I wouldn't know, Sir."
AN: The mystery thickens. Did Jakob lie? Did he uncover something nefarious and was threatened to keep it quiet? Will Ade and Sir Ash learn if Caldwell is hiding something or is everything true? Learn on the next instalment of James' story!
By the way, after replaying Frostpunk I will be changing the year to 1885, since I've shot myself in the foot by setting it in 1886(when the game happens). Not enough time till The Frost comes for what I've planned.Last edited: Dec 30, 2025 Like ReplyReport Reactions:artemlsodja, Papayasnek, BlazingHyperion and 433 othersOriginalTasteDec 30, 2025Add bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 4: First Luck New View contentOriginalTasteNot too sore, are you?Dec 31, 2025Add bookmark#36Chapter 4: First Luck
Another day, another morning routine. The only excitement was me playing with Object Attraction by roleplaying Vader on my sponge. "I find your lack of wetness disturbing," I said, while squeezing my hand and trying to keep the thing in relatively the same place by pulling right when it was starting to fall. Unfortunately, the limitation of my singular ability to only pull things to me in a straight line ruined the impression I tried to accomplish.
Once I reached the mess hall, I grabbed the usual breakfast of beans in sauce, biscuits and a cup of middling tea, before noticing that my aide was missing. Despite my usual paranoia of something going wrong, I let it be. It was highly doubtful Ade was in trouble as I would've been informed by someone else in that case, or, in the worst case scenario, I trusted Sir Ash to figure something out.
Right when I was about to finish, a man nearly fell on the seat opposite from me with the chair creaking ominously. Focusing on him, I realized that he was somewhat familiar to me. The huge form of Mr. Bean, The Undertaker look-alike glanced at me with a sheepish smile before nodding in greeting.
"Good morning, Sir! A wonderful day, wouldn't you say?!" He nearly bellowed, before being shushed by other members of the crew partaking in food.
Suppressing my amusement, I could only reply the same- "It indeed is a remarkably pleasant day, Mr. Bean. I sincerely hope it will continue to be so for the next week as well."
"Ha! I will agree with you on that, Sir. Speaking of which,-" the huge man awkwardly rubbed his thinning mop of uncut hair, "-me and Bob wanted you to come by the lower decks when you are free. There is something you need to see, and, uh, after asking 'round I was sent your way." He finished with a somewhat disturbingly earnest expression on his face.