Chapter 287 - Seven: Soliciting
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Two high-footed wine glasses were set on the arc-shaped ledge at the front of the captain’s cabin, their crystal-clear bodies glistening against the light mist rising from the sea clouds. The base of the oak barrel was quite high, with a movable support at the front end apparently intended for pouring the liquor. The dark brown barrel must have been quite old, as the metallic emblem on the side with an eagle just making out its wings was barely discernible.
The golden liquid swiftly filled the glasses along their sides, with the rich aromas of juniper, lemon peel, and cinnamon wafting through the air released by the alcohol, enveloping the entire captain’s cabin in an intoxicating atmosphere.
"Care for a drink? I don’t have our homeland’s honey wine here. Drinking honey wine on the high seas, except for ladies, one would be looked down upon. Though I do love the honey wine from home, one must not flout the customs," the Bearded Captain said as he lifted his glass and offered it.
Komer nodded as he took the glass, bringing it closer to his nose for a delicate sniff. This northern gin was not particularly popular in the south, but for sailors who spent years at sea, it was a rare treat. The strong alcohol blended with fragrant aromas provided a perfect respite from the tedium and frustrations of a sailor’s life. Given that gin ranged from expensive to cheap and came in numerous varieties to suit various budgets, it was a favorite among sailors for good reason.
Komer wasn’t particularly fond of drinking, but his memories of the lavish life in Cyprus were almost entirely spent in bars and breweries, the settings of disputations. The indispensable part of noble life that is wine had deeply burned itself into the memory of Komer from his carefree days.
As the tip of his tongue touched the liquor, memories of the past seemed to flood back into his mind, and a complex expression crossed Komer’s face. "Old Tom of Jinlus?"
A fleeting look of surprise crossed the Bearded Captain’s face; this was his treasured vintage. Though gin did not require aging, kindred spirits were hard to find. Portalan had been reluctant to indulge in the barrel that held the history of his wanderings alone, and he never expected it would be recognised by another in a single phrase.