Chapter 127: The Method of Naming Images

In Consolation Port these past few days, the news that a certain ship had returned with treasure was known to everyone from the port district to the cathedral.

While everyone's impoverished thinking remained confined to heading north to the ice plains and panning for gold from barbarian hands, a ship returning from the south pioneered a reverse line of thought.

William stood at the stern with his arms crossed. The cheering sailors praised the captain's wisdom and generosity, dispersing into the mist of various inferior glass like an old fisherman casting a large net into waters shimmering with fish scales.

A few unlucky souls who drew short lots stayed behind with the ship, watching enviously as their colleagues, carrying double wages and gold coins, rushed into buildings with rather ambiguous signage.

These were the second batch of sailors to disembark; they would carry the news to the city's taverns, special service establishments, and churches—the high-traffic spots favored by information brokers, with the gold coins in hand serving as proof of the news. No need for much instruction; the captain knew his sailors' habits well. People who could blow up any trivial matter in a tavern for days would certainly not fail to show off the gold coins they had received.

"Not going to relax?"

"No, I don't want to go ashore. If it weren't for waiting for our hidden client, I wouldn't even enter the port; I'd let these lads row the small boats over themselves." William took a deep breath of the sea mist infused with the smell of wine and powder, thin as a layer of gauze, making him want to lift it and see what lay half-hidden beneath.

In fact, he had tried; the moment he stepped onto the dock's stone slabs, a faint, hallucination-like tremor gave him a seasickness-like discomfort, stemming from psychological rejection, even if that vibration came merely from carriage wooden wheels or the stumbling steps of drunken sailors.

Perhaps he would only be able to commission sailors to buy wine for him from now on, and he would no longer be able to frequent certain "reliable special service establishments." The former could still be solved, but the latter would be much more difficult.

A strange point was that sailors generally believed bringing women aboard was an act that would invite misfortune, a belief as widespread as their faith in the Heavenly Father. Although neither was particularly firm—for instance, Yin Feng, as a "child" and passenger, could barely count as skirting the edge—it was destined that breaking the custom for private needs would provoke serious dissatisfaction among the crew.

Given that no one had yet invented the industry innovation of moving the venue onto the ship, the captain would probably have to say goodbye to one of his two great hobbies for a long time to come.

"Heavenly Father, why is it like this?" William picked up a small wine bottle, pulled out the cork, and the thick aroma immediately overpowered the faint, sour wine smell mixed with powder on the dock. Father Adrian's craftsmanship had improved again; the fine wine made him feel slightly better in his heart.

The view today was not very good; the Heavenly Father's glory on earth could not pierce through the mist covering half the city to be seen at the port, but he knew that building was operating, as was the double-story annex behind it. The wine in his hand came from there, brought back to him by Kraft yesterday.

"Speaking of which, why didn't you go?" After two swallows of wine, the conversation turned in an open direction. William carefully recalled this fellow's trajectory since he had known Kraft and found it made no sense at all. "At your age, not touching alcohol is one thing, but being uninterested in this as well?"

"Just based on this face, it shouldn't be a problem, right?"

After removing the bandages, the gradually healing scar did not ruin the face that the face-stealer had not taken, adding only a touch of maturity, or rather hardness, at certain angles; the overall impression tilted from a somewhat soft scholar toward a knight more popular with the opposite sex in the current era. Even without rolling up his scholar's robe sleeves, others could tell that sword was not for show.

With this appearance, getting a fifty-percent discount on a visit would be no problem.

From William's perspective, given his frequent dealings with the church, Kraft's lifestyle habits were far stricter than most who preached morality with their mouths, and even his need for money appeared quite limited.

"So what exactly are you still interested in?"

"Plenty." Kraft waved away the wine smell from his nose, dispelling the lethargy of sleep deprivation. "Plenty to keep me busy forever."

Yesterday, after visiting and confirming that Father Adrian was carrying out his abstinence plan during his absence, the two went together to Vichem Workshop to obtain a common glass retort and began the experiment with high expectations.

To prevent any possibility of leaks before the deal, they not only did not purchase that green crystal powder but instead bought many unrelated alchemical materials: lizard heads, herbs, dried mushrooms, plant and animal fungi, covering everything, highly deceptive. The true experimental materials were diverted from the batch William's friend had given him to add to sea chart ink.

The experiment process... was not ideal. When the pale green powder began to change color, the keen-eared Kraft heard a faint popping sound.

Father Adrian might have thought there was a problem with the candle used for heating and prepared to lean in to observe, while Kraft saw from a distance a faint ice crack near the flame amidst the fluffy impurities.

"Step back!"

He dared not touch the bottle; he only had time to push Father Adrian's overly bulky body under the table before the popping sound escalated into an explosion.

The seemingly sturdy bottom of the retort shattered completely; the scalding glass shards burned a blister on the priest's buttocks, which he hadn't managed to tuck under the table, causing the priest to sit on only half a chair for a week.

Next came cleaning up the mess, sweeping up the glass shards on the floor and clearing the mineral powder. Even now, one could feel fine fragments pricking into the soles of the shoes; the priest had better not have the habit of feeling the original wooden floor with bare feet.

After this incident, Kraft understood why that alchemist used pottery vessels where the internal situation could not be observed.

Although it met the corrosion resistance requirements, the quality of glass in this era was really not very trustworthy under high-temperature tests; by comparison, pottery clearly had higher cost-performance and performance advantages.

Hmm, it seems I now know why there were such severe chemical burns on that face.

"That's roughly it. Before the next experiment produces that alchemical potion, we need to customize a pottery vessel; Vichem will handle that."

In fact, this craftsman was more eager than Kraft; they were expected to receive the finished product within two days.

"When this matter is over, I'm going to change to a bigger ship, the three-masted kind." William corked the bottle; the new wine, after improvements to the distillation process, was strong, and even he couldn't adapt to it immediately. "What about you? I don't think you came into this muddy water entirely for the money. So is the alchemical potion itself very useful to you?"

"Yes, but not only useful to me." Kraft admitted openly; there was nothing to keep secret. "As for money, I want to find a place to open a surgical clinic first."

"I thought you were that kind of refined doctor, not really involved in rough work." William laughed. "Like wielding a sword, both involve blood and screams, but the purposes are exactly opposite?"

"That won't be the case for long."

"By the way, since you were the one who retrieved this alchemical potion, the naming rights are now in your hands. Have you decided what to call it?"

"Uh..." Naming was not an easy task. Kraft scratched his damp, flattened hair and first ruled out chemical names.

"How about calling it Green Vitriol? The product will be a bit like oil, so just call it Green Vitriol Oil."

"That's a strange name. Is it too simple?"

"You don't understand; many people will thank me in the future." They would no longer have to curse a hard-to-remember person's name one more time on the night before exams.