Blue Crescent Moon Pirates
"Eek! I-it's the Blue Crescent Moon Pirates!"
The merchant ship's crew, unable to flee without a breath of wind, knelt on the deck without mounting any real resistance. Karga grabbed the trembling captain by the hair and snarled.
"Answer my questions straight. Among the Peluah bastards' ships, there was this freaky one without masts heading east from Masina. Did you spot any wreckage sunk to the seabed on your way?"
He figured he could salvage the debris and track down the gold. But the captain's response completely shattered Karga's expectations.
"W-wreckage? Sunk?! Y-you mean that devil of a ship?!"
"Devil? Yeah, that's the one—did you see it?!"
Karga's eyes flashed as he pressed a gleaming blade to the captain's throat. Yet even with the steel kissing his skin, the captain's eyes were glazed not with terror of the pirates, but with the raw shock of some unthinkable spectacle he'd witnessed.
"Y-yes... well, 'saw' might not be quite right. It just... streaked past."
"Streaked past? In this godforsaken windless dead zone? Don't bullshit me! It wasn't a galley with rowers—how the hell does a heavy-loaded beast like that zip by?!"
Karga exploded in rage, but the captain stared blankly into space, murmuring like a man lost to the world.
"W-wind? Oars? That monster didn't need any of that crap. Black smoke belched from its sooty stack, blackening the sky... and those massive waterwheels on its sides churned the sea to froth..."
"What? Waterwheels?"
"Yes! Currents crashing against it, waves slamming the bow—it didn't stop for a second! Thundering like a heartbeat, it shot past us like a flying arrow... vanishing beyond the eastern horizon in a blink!"
The captain clutched his head with both hands and wailed.
"That insane speed! No amount of rowing could catch it! It passed here three days ago—it's long gone by now!"
"......"
Silence. A chilling hush fell over the pirate deck, thick with bloodlust moments before. The knife slipped from Karga's grasp and clattered to the planks.
Even a sea-hardened veteran like him couldn't wrap his head around it. Moving without sails? Defying countercurrents at speeds outpacing a galley? Already blasting through this choke point three days prior, bound east?
"L-lies..."
His lieutenant muttered in a quaking voice.
"Captain, it doesn't make sense. How does a lumbering barge stuffed with cargo fly across the ocean?!"
Karga had no reply. He stared blankly east, where the captain pointed. The sea lay calm, the wind still absent. But far off, at the edge of the horizon where sky met water, a faint, dark smoke trail lingered—untouched by days of breeze, a merciless straight line stabbing toward the east.
It wasn't the sea's familiar face. This was the scar of human violence shredding nature's laws and currents alike.
"M-monster..."
A prickling helplessness and terror—the first of his life—crawled up the spine of one-eyed Karga, self-proclaimed apex predator of the southern seas.
What they hunted wasn't some "fat purse on a platter." It was an overwhelming, violent harbinger poised to shatter the era's paradigms—a steel calamity.
Lorenzo's sly traps, the pirates' brutal encirclement... before the steamship's thunderous horn charging east, they were mere leaves adrift on the waves.
Clang! Splashhh! Clang! Splashhh!
The black steel beast plowing the endless ocean knew no fatigue. Its massive sidewheels on either flank relentlessly pulverized the sea, cleaving oncoming waves in ruthless halves as it raced east at full tilt.
"G-gods... the stars have already shifted!"
"Dead calm, no wind—and we're bucking waves at this mad speed!"
The crew gathered on deck gaped in awe. These were battle-scarred sailors who'd staked their lives on sails and rigging, yet this freakish voyage—defying nature's whims in a straight-line blitz across the sea—shattered their worldviews.
"Even the sea god couldn't snag this ship!"
As cheers erupted, I wiped sweat from the engine room and leaned on the rail, smirking at them.
"Hey, enjoying the boat ride?"
They whipped around at my call. Their gazes held not just respect for a boss, but absolute reverence, like facing a miracle-working archmage.
"Chief Officer! At this pace, we'll hit the savage eastern heathens' waters in ten days flat!"
"The engine's heat keeps us toasty—no chills!"
"Good. Keep shoveling coal into the furnace with that fire!"
I flashed three fingers at them.
"Nail the eastern sea, stuff the hold with cotton, and return safe to Peluah? I'll triple your promised base pay—three times the bonus!"
"Triple?!"
"Wooooaaahhh!! Long live Chief Officer Carnoble!!"
Their frenzied roars shook the waves. For seamen, nothing fueled like cold hard gold. Morale skyrocketing, they snatched shovels and bolted for the engine room, elbowing to load coal.
As I savored the sight, Aila sidled up, wrinkling her nose at the acrid smoke.
"Throwing money like water, Elpanso. We're already burning gold on cotton as it is."
"Crossing treacherous eastern seas? This morale boost is table stakes. Scoop cotton dirt-cheap from Kipro Island, and triple pay's pocket change."
I shrugged. She crossed her arms, eyeing me suspiciously.
"Fine, whatever. But what's with fussing over whatever's in the bilge?"
"Bilge?"
"Yeah. Saw you watering wooden barrels in that pitch-black hold under the cargo bay. Dank, reeking hole—no light. What scheme you cooking down there?"
Grinning at her curiosity, I beckoned.
"Nosy? Come see. I'll show you the golden crop that'll conquer the seas for us."
I led her to the ship's bowels—the lowest deck's dank, shadowy hold. A hellhole where galley slaves would've chained and bled over oars. But with steam power, it stood empty save for dozens of massive barrels stacked like rice cakes.
I lifted the damp cloth from one. Aila peered in, brow furrowed.
"What is it? Yellow heads... long white tails? Weed sprouts?"
"Bean sprouts."
"Bean... sprouts?"
She tilted her head, baffled. Beans were eaten here, but germinating them in darkness for greens? Unheard of.
I scooped a fresh handful from the barrel.
"Listen up, Aila. What's the scariest thing for sailors on long voyages? Pirates? Storms? Nah. The sea's curse."
The sea's curse—scurvy. Her face hardened. As a guildmaster, she knew the plague that doomed crews.
A month at sea: gums bleeding, teeth falling, bruises blooming, wasting away to death.
"Yeah. Prolonged damp sea air builds black bile, clotting blood, rotting flesh. Only cure's bloodletting, right?"
"...."
A modern man knows scurvy's vitamin C deficiency. But here? Alien knowledge. The gap hit heavy—long voyages impossible due to this "curse."
I corrected her.
"Wrong. It's from no fresh fruits or veggies. Sea air's irrelevant."
"What? How do you know that, Elpanso? Studied medicine on the side?"
"A bit."
"...Impressive. So feed 'em veggies?"
"Yep. But veggies rot in weeks aboard. Bean sprouts? Different story."
I raved, pointing.
"Key to beating the curse: vitamin C. Dry beans have none, but soak 'em in damp dark like this? Boom—vitamins explode like magic."
"Vita... what? Magic potion?"
"Science's magic."
I broke down the genius for her blank stare.
"Think: Beans store forever dry. Need greens mid-voyage? Douse in this dark hold—fresh veggies multiply infinitely in days! No rot, no space hog."
"...Just water? No light?"
"Light toughens 'em inedible. Bilge is perfect. But vitamin C hates heat—don't boil. Blanch or broth it for the crew."
For our ten-day sprint, scurvy's no threat. But when we cross oceans to new worlds? These sprouts save thousands—a lifeline.
Aila eyed the sprouts, then me, sighing and shaking her head.
"Vitamin whatever—lost me. But after seeing your iron beast rip the sea? Hard to argue."
She poked a barrel resignedly.
"So, sea voyages mean chomping yellow-headed weeds forever?"
"Crunchy and tasty—great bar snack."
"Hilarious. Load more meat."
As she snorted and grumbled—
"Laaaand hooooo!!!"