Chapter 153: Setting Sail
Later that day, the ships finally set sail. Arthur and Aziel stood at the porthole in their cabin, watching as the coastline slowly receded into the distance. The massive engines of the warship thrummed beneath their feet, a constant, rhythmic vibration that seemed to pulse through the very bones of the vessel.
The ocean stretched endlessly before them, its surface catching and reflecting the dying light of the day like scattered diamonds. Seabirds wheeled and cried overhead, following the ships for a time before eventually turning back toward the safety of land. Arthur found himself mesmerized by the sight—he had never seen so much water in his entire life, and the sheer vastness of it was both beautiful and slightly overwhelming.
As darkness began to fall and the first stars appeared in the clear night sky, exhaustion from the long day finally caught up with both of them. They settled into their narrow bunks, the gentle rocking motion of the ship and the steady hum of the engines creating an oddly soothing lullaby that carried them into sleep.
The next morning arrived with the soft gray light of dawn filtering through their small porthole. Arthur was the first to wake. The constant motion that had seemed so noticeable the night before had already become a natural part of the background, and he found himself surprised at how quickly he had adapted to the seafaring life.
Aziel stirred shortly after, stretching and yawning as he sat up in his bunk. "Morning already?" he mumbled, running his hands through his disheveled hair.
They didn’t necessarily have any responsibilities while aboard the ship, as it was fully equipped with a professional crew from the government who handled all aspects of navigation, maintenance, and operation. This left the volunteers free to focus on their own preparation and training for the mission ahead.
After getting dressed and making themselves presentable, they made their way through the ship’s corridors toward the mess hall. The vessel was like a floating city, with passages that seemed to stretch on forever and dozens of levels connected by staircases and elevators. Other volunteers were moving through the corridors as well, all heading in the same general direction toward the promise of breakfast.
The mess hall itself was an impressive sight—a cavernous space filled with long tables and benches, capable of seating hundreds of people at once. The ceiling was high and well-lit, and the walls were lined with serving stations where crew members were busy preparing and distributing food to the hungry volunteers.
Arthur and Aziel joined the line and soon found themselves with trays loaded with what seemed like a feast: perfectly scrambled eggs that were fluffy and seasoned just right, crispy strips of bacon that still sizzled slightly on the plate, and thick slices of golden toast spread with real butter. There was also fresh fruit, orange juice, and coffee that actually tasted like it had been made with care rather than hastily thrown together.