"A proper city cannot be corrupted by the power of an Evil God."
"To labyrinthify this small town, it seems we must first conquer it."
Charlot Mecklenburg pondered for a long time and suddenly had the odd feeling of being a great Evil God himself—conquering a city, turning it into a labyrinth, and transforming its inhabitants into malevolent creatures...
But he had no intention of occupying Cappadocia. As a plenipotentiary war commissioner representing the Fars Empire on a diplomatic mission to the Ingrima Empire, what excuse could he offer the Ingrima officials if he were to conquer Cappadocia?
"That would be an act of war!"
Charlot’s current predicament lay in whether the High Priest Auguslatin was aware of this detail. If the priest intended for him to labyrinthify Cappadocia, it was a massive trap. If the priest was unaware, the problem was even graver—it meant the Labyrinth God Agmirlas had a hidden side yet to be revealed.
"Unfortunately, there are hardly any records of this Labyrinth God in the Old Continent. I’d love to visit the New Continent to uncover the secrets of this foreign god of chaos."
"Of course, I must first deal with the matter of the two Evil Gods’ descent."
Charlot tapped the ground lightly and stood up. Although he had disembarked, he hadn’t ventured deep into Cappadocia. He needed to maintain his Blood Glory ability to keep the White Tea within his range of insight.
He decided to leave Cappadocia for now and return to the White Tea to quell the brewing mutiny.
...
A young girl, around eleven or twelve, approached from the dock. She carried a woven rattan basket filled with a dozen salted fish. Dressed in a patched cotton dress that had been resized multiple times, her slightly brittle, sun-bleached hair framed a face weathered by years of sea winds. She wasn’t particularly pretty or plain. As she brushed past Charlot, he suddenly stopped her and asked in Ingrima, "Are you selling salted fish?"
The girl cast a wary glance at him. Clad in the distinct uniform of a Fars military officer, he stood out starkly from the locals. She didn’t trust outsiders at all and curtly replied, "Not for sale!"
As she attempted to bypass him, Charlot produced a handful of centimes and asked, "Will this suffice?"
The girl glanced at the unfamiliar Fars coins. Cappadocia, being part of the Ingrima Empire, used pounds, shillings, and pence. She shook her head firmly.
Charlot sighed. As a diplomat, he rarely needed to spend his own money and hadn’t exchanged for Ingrima currency. Now, this oversight had become a hassle.
Just as the girl was about to leave, she noticed Charlot standing there helplessly. With a flicker of sympathy, she placed a single salted fish on the ground, gestured to him, and darted off.
Charlot felt thoroughly embarrassed. It wasn’t as though he couldn’t afford to pay a young girl, but he genuinely had nothing suitable for trade. Even if he chased after her, he wouldn’t have anything to offer.
Picking up the salted fish, Charlot activated his Blood Glory, gently rubbing it until flakes of salt fell away, leaving behind dozens of small, ruby-like salted fish balls. With a faint smile, he remarked, "Salted fish-flavored explosive balls."
He wandered around the dock, purchased a dozen sheets of mulberry paper, and meticulously wrapped the fish balls into a neat package.
...
Meanwhile, Captain Siman was fervently rallying a dozen or so crew members with passionate speeches, spittle flying. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, followed by a violent kick that sent it flying open.
Charlot strolled in with a cheerful smile, holding a paper-wrapped package. "Guess what gift I’ve brought for you?"
"This is an alchemical potion. They say if you take it without the weekly antidote, you’ll explode with a bang."
"Come on, try it! They say it even tastes pretty decent."
The captain and the gathered sailors stared in horror at the package in Charlot’s hand. The mere mention of alchemical potions was terrifying, especially one that promised such an explosive end. Who would dare to try it?
Realizing that his mutinous intentions had been exposed, Siman hurriedly declared, "I’m willing to continue serving you faithfully, without any disloyalty!"
He frantically explained, but his agitation only made him stammer. The sailors he had rallied were quick to betray him, shouting, "He tried to convince us to set sail secretly and leave you stranded in Cappadocia. We swear, none of us agreed to it!"
Everyone clamored to prove their innocence.
Ignoring their chatter, Charlot extended a finger and lightly pressed it to his forehead. A Flame Dragon’s Hand shot out from behind him, snatching a passing seabird from the air. With a flick of his wrist, he shoved one of the crimson fish balls, tainted with Blood Glory, into the bird’s beak before releasing it.
He feigned a sudden realization and said, "Oh, by the way, this alchemical potion has another feature: if the poisoned person gets too far from the one who administered it, they’ll explode immediately."
As the seabird soared high into the sky, his words were punctuated by the bird detonating into a cloud of blood and feathers.
The gruesome demonstration drained all color from the faces of Siman and the sailors. None doubted the potion’s lethality anymore.
Charlot pulled out his alchemical pistol, White Silver Knight, and pointed it at one of the sailors’ foreheads. "You have two choices: I shoot you, or you eat the potion."
The sailor swallowed hard, grabbed one of the salted fish balls, and shoved it into his mouth. It tasted unbearably salty, but he forced it down.
With one man setting the precedent, the rest followed suit, swallowing the fish balls despite their dread. When it was Siman’s turn, he bowed his head, overcome with bitterness.
He had simply taken a private job to ferry Charlot and his entourage to Cappadocia. How could he have known Charlot was a “madman” who would commandeer his merchant vessel and force him to eat deadly potions?
As Charlot’s pistol pressed against his forehead, Siman had no choice but to gulp down the fish ball.
Under threat of death, resistance was futile.
Charlot holstered the White Silver Knight and said nonchalantly, "I’ll need a few more ships."
Siman gasped, "You want to become a pirate?"
Charlot knocked on his head and replied, "Pirate? Ridiculous. I’m a Fars diplomat. How could I stoop to piracy?"
Siman sighed in relief, only to hear Charlot continue, "You’ll be the pirate! I’ll simply be your nameless aide. As your pirate king’s flag waves across the seas, I’ll quietly retire, my mission complete."
Siman was dumbfounded, unable to comprehend Charlot’s logic.
Using his salted fish balls as makeshift alchemical potions, Charlot had secured the loyalty of the captain and his crew. Satisfied, he stepped onto the deck, gazing out at the vast ocean. A surge of exhilaration welled up within him.
Since venturing to the seas, Charlot felt unchanged, but everyone around him—acquaintances and strangers alike—sensed something extraordinary about him.
Suddenly, Charlot mused, "The Grand Voyage series truly is an excellent game."