“I have noticed the stress and dread of these people,” Gabrio wrote his thoughts on the paper. Adjusting the lamp on the side of his desk. “Therefore, I’ve realized that it is a must that the passengers of the ship are well-entertained. They must not fall to dread like the others. I say this because if it was not for the grace of the Ark giving us life and supplies. I imagine this trip would be more dreadful than this. Some falls into depression, others into games, and the rest turns to God for strength.”

“The ones that fall to depression become lifeless, they are irritable and their lack of desire has caused a lack of focus. I’ve come to those who fall into this dread. I lend them my ear in hopes they can confide to me. Men wore their braves all the time and spoke about it merrily while showing cracks on their faces. Women were susceptible to sharing their woes. I listened to their worries and hoped to ease them by words alone.”

Gabrio felt the wind hit his neck. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw nothing other than the cabin wall and the bed. He continued, “But words alone are not enough if they want to continue living inside this Galleon. The loneliness and the silence of the still seas drives men and women insane. One of them had talked about how they miss their homes. That although they know what it meant going on this voyage that could last a lifetime. It didn’t mean that their hearts were as strong as their mind. From the start of the journey, we lost five men to suicide. They hanged themselves on the crossbeams. Or have thrown themselves overboard, dying because of the creatures below us. I am not a doctor of the mind. I specialize in the treatment of the human body. I cannot help those who would not even help themselves.”

He inspected the tip of his writing stick. “Everyone has their own kind of hurt that it is foolish to speak of it as singular. To speak of words that are empty is the same as giving them false hope. I cannot do that to them. That is why I had thought of giving them some entertainment to clear their minds on it. It is escapism and running away from their problems, but it is better than letting them fall into that dread. Truthfully, I have turned to the Priest in hopes he can give them spiritual enlightenment.”

“Telling them to steel themselves without the materials to do it is foolish. If words cannot strengthen them, then maybe faith in a merciful god will. The Priest had given me praise for turning those are downtrodden to him. Faith is a double-edged sword and yet it also a soothing light that calms those who need it. To place your burden in the hands of the Merciful God and to live on his virtues is a better alternative than drinking themselves to death early in the afternoon. ”

Gabrio moved. He reached a hand to the flask he keeps on his desk. Drinking the flask, he placed it back on the corner of the desk. Strapped on a holder he requested from the carpenters. With the holder, he didn’t have to worry about the water spilling again.

“There also those who are stubborn. They have worshipped the elves as divine and have turned to them as if they are angels sent from heaven. It is hard to blame them knowing they have showcased their ability to manipulate the world through the use of their blood,” Gabrio hesitated, before continuing. “I have noticed that there are clicks on their voices. Sometimes these taps they are using seem like it was familiar. It was not knowledge that I have learned here, but from the dreams that seem so real to me.”

“I believe that these are codes that allow them to communicate with the spirits. I have not figured out the how many clicks and taps they use while commanding the spirits. There is a certain requirement from commanding the spirits. I believe we need the blood and the ability to speak to them before we can make use of their power.”

Gabrio froze at the sight of him writing ‘artificial’ on the book. “No, I should keep this is my head,” Gabrio thought after much deliberation.

“Boy,” he heard a voice rang inside his head. “Medicine, no, everything that we have right now is the application of what we know, then turning them into technology, tools we can use. It because of this that we can create. Just because it is complex, you would think of it as ‘magic’ like what fools believe. It is the manipulation of nature to cause an effect. We conquer nature through calculations and application of these calculations.”

“This is something that I shouldn’t talk about to anyone,” Gabrio concluded. Planting his gaze back on the book, he wrote. “I believe their powers are complex and would need a catalyst. That catalyst is something that is a secret to the elven-kin. To intrude upon their secrets violates their trust. Not to mention that what I have is mere speculation. I am sure greater men had thought the same, but failed to apply them or even dare to apply them considering the demerits.

The elven-kin lives in harmony with nature, and among the passengers of the fleet. They were the only ones content in sailing the still seas. It is fascinating considering the labels we place on them as people of the forest. I believe that is also due to the fact that they have the spirits and the Elder Tree with them. The Ark is just their home in a form of a giant boat. It is not surprising that they fare better than us who lived on lands. Among the fleet they are the most stable and do not require help from physicians. Not like they would trust a human to heal their wounds when they can call for the spirits instead to heal their bodies.”

Gabrio close the book, sliding it inside the compartment of his desk. Reaching out to the key in his pocket, he locked the compartment, stood up, and walked out of his room. Outside of his room, Gabrio turned to the direction of the workshop where recently he had been staying when he was not on topside. Upon arriving inside the workshop, he strutted to his workbench and took the materials inside the chest he placed near the bench.

“It was the 10th Day of the Third-Cycle of the Year 1500, of the Ghealach Calendar when we left,” Gabrio thought. “It’s already the 7th Day of the Eight-Cycle, Year 1500 of the Ghealach Calendar. Two months since that awful attack on the Atoll.”

The attack caused casualties among the fleet. If it was not for the superior firepower of the fleet. Gabrio wondered how the fleet could have beaten that wave of monsters. It was because of this fear of monsters that the workshops of the fleet have started their development of newer weapons to combat the foreign threat. Gabrio wasn’t a master engineer, but he had ideas and mechanical knowledge that he had learned inside the fort. The fort had a workshop where the prisoners make the parts of weapons and assemble them. A workshop inside one of the most dangerous prison in the known world might have been a stupid idea, but it was actually the most peaceful place inside the prison, filled with mechanists who have an obsession with weapons.

Years inside that Fort had given him the knowledge of everything that the prisoner knew. From how to punch, kick, stab, and make schemes. To know how they do their work and their techniques in exchanged for a medical treatment or a painless death instead of being gutted alive by the Surgeon of Rava.

He started with laying down the materials on the workbench. Picking up the long barrel he had crafted from a smith inside the ship, he assembled the materials to form a peculiar long-barreled gun with a round under barrel magazine where he could insert the paper cartridges. The lever near the stock acts as the place where the paper cartridge would act as the igniter.

Inspecting the hammer of the gun, he noticed the hammer embedded with flint. To reload the rifle, he had to insert the custom round lead balls he could insert on the butt of the stock. It was already afternoon. He took the custom-made rifle he made and went to the target practice area where no one was around. Around afternoon is where they head to the bar or topside to get fresh air. They reinforced this place to act as a shooting range. Gabrio didn’t know what they were thinking, but in their defense they want to keep the lead balls they shoot. Behind the bullseye was the mud wall wrapped by a net to catch the balls. It was a horrible space. Sadly, it was the only place available where he could fire this rifle.

Holding the forestock, elbow pointing down. His right hand seizes the grip, elbow pointing out. The butt of the rifle snug against his shoulder. Gabrio pulled the trigger.

He saw a spark and then a flash.

The rifle exploded. The part before the barrel of the rifle flying away.

“Ah, fuck,” Gabrio cursed.