Preparing such a huge fish for lunch is no easy task. It requires skill and strength. Luckily, Duncan's sense of duty and enthusiasm for improving the meals on the ship drive him to tackle the big fish he caught today with great energy.
He spent a long time in the kitchen, finally managing to remove the bone spines from the ugly fish's head. After some struggle, he cut the thick fish body into several pieces. The fish head had very little meat, so he set it aside for now. The belly and back of the fish had some good-quality meat, perfect for making ingredients for the Lost Home.
It seemed a bit strange for the captain to be busy in the kitchen, but Duncan was quite happy about it. He wondered how the ordinary people who feared the Lost Home would react if they saw this scene. Would they be shocked to see the fearsome ghost captain in such a down-to-earth and everyday role, or would they first admire Duncan's excellent fishing skills?
While cutting the fish, Duncan suddenly thought about this and couldn't help but smile. He imagined that maybe one day he would kindly invite some people aboard as guests. The Lost Home wouldn't always be a symbol of disaster, and he didn't plan to be a cold-hearted ghost captain forever. As he learned more about the world, he naturally wanted to connect with contemporary society.
When that time came, he would serve fish to his guests.
After finishing the cutting, Duncan temporarily placed most of the fish meat into a wooden barrel lined with sea salt and pushed the heavy barrel into the storage area of the kitchen. He planned to deal with the smaller pieces of fish later, intending to marinate and dry them on deck. If all went well, they would turn into salted fish in the sea breeze.
Unfortunately, he couldn't find any strong liquor on the ship; otherwise, he could have used it to prepare the fish in more ways.
Having fresh fish every day was certainly a good thing, but Duncan knew fishing was always a matter of luck. He had a good catch today, but that wouldn't always be the case in the future. He had to think about how to preserve any extra ingredients.
After all, even though the jerky and cheese stored on the Lost Home showed no signs of spoilage, he couldn't be sure if it was due to the ship's special qualities or if there was something wrong with the jerky and cheese. It would be bad if the hard-earned fish spoiled.
Salted fish was at least better than salted meat from a century ago, even if it was just for a change of taste.
Duncan kept the freshest and best-looking parts of the fish and tossed them into a pot to stew with the jerky, which would act as a seasoning in the process.
This was a wasteful way to cook, and any real chef would be shocked to see Duncan's method. The best way to prepare fresh fish like this should have been to make sashimi or grill it lightly. Duncan knew this too, but he did it to be safe.
He didn't dare to eat raw fish he caught from the sea, even though theoretically, sea fish shouldn't carry harmful parasites, and as a "ghost captain," he shouldn't fear ordinary toxins. But what if?
Stewing was the safest way to handle unfamiliar ingredients. He wanted to try this first, and if he confirmed the fish was edible, he would consider other methods.
By the time it was almost afternoon, his late "lunch" was finally ready. A bowl of fish soup was served, and the delicious aroma made Duncan's appetite grow. But first, he cautiously forked a piece of fish, cooled it down, and placed it in front of his pigeon, Ai Yi.
Of course, pigeons don't eat meat—though Ai Yi was hard to call a normal pigeon.
Duncan needed to satisfy his curiosity; there were too many things he wanted to try on the Lost Home.
As for what would happen if this "abnormal pigeon" really got poisoned after eating the fish... Duncan had his preparations.
First, he had done his best to process the ingredients, so letting the pigeon try was just a formality. Secondly, if something went wrong with Ai Yi, he could quickly use green fire to pull it into a spirit state. He had already tested this before; Ai Yi in spirit form responded just like an object controlled by spirit fire. He could even disassemble and reassemble spirit Ai Yi and send it to a designated spot. In that case, ordinary toxins wouldn't work.
Ai Yi tilted its head, watching Duncan's actions. After confirming the piece of fish was for it, Ai Yi first pecked at the table beside it and looked at Duncan and the ceiling with its two wandering eyes: "Is this safe to eat?"
Duncan replied, "Just say if you want to eat it or not."
Ai Yi flapped its wings and mimicked Duncan's tone: "Just say if you want to eat it or not!"
Then it lowered its head and quickly pecked at the already cooled fish, devouring it at an astonishing speed, even though it didn't look like food for a pigeon at all!
After finishing, Ai Yi stretched its neck and proudly walked around the table, seeming very pleased. After a lap, it returned to Duncan and loudly exclaimed, "So delicious! So delicious!"
Duncan stared at the pigeon in disbelief, suddenly feeling a thought pop into his head—this creature was now a mix of "pigeon, delicious, and parrot!"
With all three elements present, it was practically humanity's (Earth's) light. If you arranged it in a grid, this creature could almost be considered an Earthling...
After a while, Duncan confirmed that the pigeon showed no abnormal reactions, and he finally relaxed.
The captain of the Lost Home and his pet were hiding in the kitchen, happily feasting.
The fish was indeed fragrant, just as Duncan had seen in his dreams.
...
The sunset was gradually approaching the high walls at the edge of the city. The towering chimneys, pipes, and towers of the Prand City were slowly bathed in a soft golden light.
In the city center, the sound of the great bell ringing echoed from the heights where the Storm Cathedral stood, accompanied by the sharp whistle of steam escaping from the pressure relief valve. A thick cloud of white mist erupted from the top of the cathedral's tower, enveloping the sky above the heights like clouds, reflecting the golden sunlight from the sea.
This was a signal of the transition between day and night—a reminder that the sun's power was about to fade quickly, and the world's creation would soon dominate the sky.
The order of the mortal world would shift from stability to instability, and the influence from the "depths" of the world would rapidly strengthen with the arrival of night. This process would continue until the sun rose the next day.
In the darkness, cautious people would choose to stay home, while those who had to go out would try to stay in well-lit areas—gas lamps blessed by the clergy could dispel the malice of the night to the greatest extent.
However, this was still a prosperous and stable city-state. Under the protection of the sacred Storm Cathedral, even the deepest influences of the world would be suppressed to a safe threshold. Occasional unusual phenomena in the city were just minor issues, and ordinary citizens knew how to ensure their home’s safety. There were also church guardians patrolling at night, taking over the role of the constables to maintain order after dark.
But just like there are always shadows even under the brightest streetlights—there would always be foolish people who longed for darkness and chaos, even under the watchful eyes of the church guardians. They feared and hated the existing order and fervently awaited a "better era" they had never even seen.
Fortunately, in a city-state where the forces of order held the dominant position, these disruptors mostly had to curl up in the shadows.
On the edge of the city, deep in an abandoned sewer entrance, several figures in black robes huddled in a corner of the room.
This used to be a resting place for sewer maintenance workers, but it had been forgotten due to urban planning changes. The neglected corner had become a refuge for cultists fleeing in panic—a dim oil lamp hung on the wall, its flickering light illuminating a few gloomy, fearful, and angry faces.
A man in a black robe, around thirty, lay on a makeshift bed of rags, gritting his teeth, pale, with weak and chaotic breaths. Others sat nearby, some muttering curses: "Those damned church dogs..."
"We lost a lot of our people, and the messenger died during the ritual..." another person said hoarsely, "How could the sacred ritual suddenly go out of control..."
"That sacrifice... it was clearly because of that sacrifice. He was obviously a pawn of heresy..."
"Listen," one of the black-robed figures suddenly perked up, raising a hand to point above, "It's the sound of the evening bell and the steam whistle."
"...It’s almost night," the first one to curse said in a low voice, glancing anxiously at the "comrade" lying on the makeshift bed, who was clearly in very bad shape, "Damn... I hope he can survive tonight..."
(End of Chapter)