There was a significant difference between seeing the ship from a distance and actually boarding it.
The Voyager was much larger than Klein had anticipated.
It featured a three-masted main sail, an iron-clad hull bottom, and dense protective runes lined along both sides of the ship. The winches and anchor chains on the deck were polished to a shine, clearly indicating meticulous, long-term maintenance. As the vessel of an imperial princess, it certainly carried the appropriate prestige.
When Klein stepped onto the gangway, he carried a bulging canvas bag over his shoulder, stuffed with inscription stone fragments and several unfinished manuscripts of sea folk data. Ophelia walked behind him, shielding Aphros at her side.
Aphros walked very slowly.
The gangway was narrow and swayed. For a former mermaid who had only learned to walk on two legs five days ago, this was as challenging as walking a tightrope. She gripped the ropes tightly with one hand while the other was held by Ophelia. With every step, she would tentatively test the ground with her toes before daring to shift her weight forward.
Klein glanced back but didn't reach out to help.
It wasn't that he didn't want to, but rather that he couldn't offer more than what was already there. Ophelia standing behind Aphros was the best insurance possible. Furthermore, the girl needed to learn to adapt on her own; she couldn't be helped along every step of the way once they were at sea.
The moment they stepped onto the deck, several gazes swept over them simultaneously.
The first to notice were the guards who had personally witnessed the effects of the potion in the courtyard. They were standing by the masts organizing the rigging, but they paused when they saw Klein board, each nodding in acknowledgment.
One of the older guards even grinned at him.
There was a complex mix of emotions in that smile: respect, curiosity, and a touch of inexplicable... awe. After all, turning a fish tail into human legs out of thin air was something they hadn't seen a mage do in their entire lives.
Klein returned the smile naturally.
However, the people on the other side of the deck were different.
Near the stern, three guards in standard armor were checking the weapon racks. When they looked over, the sentiment in their eyes was much more direct.
There was no malice, but they were far from friendly.
More accurately, it was a look of scrutiny. They were questioning how an outsider—a commoner of vague status—had the right to board the flagship of an imperial princess so grandly.
Klein took in these looks without a change in expression.
It wasn't that he cared. This reaction was expected. No matter how polite Diancie was to him, it didn't change the fact that in the eyes of these people, he was just an alchemist of unknown origin—a mage from some rural baron's family.
Not to mention, having Ophelia, a former Sword of the Empire, standing beside him was an eyesore in itself.
But—it was only an eyesore.
Constrained by Diancie's attitude and Ophelia's presence, these people kept their emotions well-hidden.
Klein paid them no mind.
He set his canvas bag down on the deck and turned to receive Aphros. The young girl finally climbed the last step of the gangway. The moment her feet hit the deck, she wobbled, only to be caught firmly from behind by Ophelia.
“Are you all right?”
Aphros shook her head vigorously, though the tension on her face betrayed her. Her legs were locked straight, and her posture was stiff, not much different from when she was first pulled from the pool.
The deck was swaying slightly.
To a normal person, this motion was almost negligible, but Aphros's balance system clearly hadn't evolved to that stage yet.
“Take it slow,” Ophelia said, letting go of her hand and patting her shoulder.
Aphros nodded cautiously, her eyes remaining glued to Ophelia like a mobile sunflower.
Watching from the side, Klein’s lips twitched.
In this girl's world, there were probably only two important people. Ophelia was first, and he was second. And the gap between first and second was likely as wide as the entire west coast.
As he was thinking, footsteps approached from behind.
They were brisk, accompanied by the light clinking of armor plates.
“You aren't late.”
Diancie walked out from the cabin area, followed by a middle-aged man who looked like an adjutant. She had changed into dark sailing gear with a tightly cinched waist. A short sword hung at her hip—not a decorative piece, as the blade showed clear signs of use.
She was a completely different person from the princess who had sat regally in the meeting room yesterday.
“Princess, are you saying we were almost late?” Klein replied, his tone light.
Diancie glanced at him but didn't take the bait.
Her attention fell on Aphros, looking her up and down. Her gaze swept from Aphros's stiff posture to her legs, finally stopping at her ankles.
“She’s already walking very steadily,” she remarked, her tone carrying a hint of genuine wonder. “How many days has it been?”
“Five days,” Ophelia answered.
Diancie opened her mouth as if to say more but ultimately didn't press further.
She turned to Klein.
She hesitated for a moment.
The hesitation was subtle. Klein could tell—Diancie was weighing her words. When an imperial princess had to organize her thoughts, it usually meant that what she was about to say carried significant weight.
“Mr. Klein, there is something—”
“Yes?”
“Regarding that potion you used on her the other day.” Diancie’s gaze flicked toward Aphros before returning to him, her speaking pace half a beat slower than usual.
“I want to confirm something.”
She didn't beat around the bush.
“Can that potion achieve limb regeneration?”
The deck fell silent for a moment.
Even the guards who were pretending not to eavesdrop stopped what they were doing.
Klein looked at Diancie.
The Princess's expression was restrained, and her tone was flat. But the question itself was extremely pointed.
Limb regeneration.
She wasn't asking about turning a fish tail into legs—she had already seen that. She was asking about something else: whether a human who had lost an arm, a leg, or any part of their body could grow it back exactly as it was.
What would that mean?
The Empire lost thousands of soldiers every year in border conflicts and the Sea Monster War. A significant portion of them didn't die but were left disabled. Losing a hand or a foot meant a lifetime of retirement. All the combat experience and training costs invested in these individuals would go down the drain.
If there were a potion that could regenerate limbs—
Klein didn't need to think hard to calculate the immense value of such a thing.
Diancie wasn't asking out of personal curiosity. She was using her status as a princess to test a possibility for the Empire.
Klein shook his head.
“It cannot.”
Diancie’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly.
The movement was tiny and well-controlled, but Klein still caught it.
It was the reaction of someone who had already prepared themselves for disappointment but couldn't help feeling it anyway.
Klein watched her for two seconds.
“However—”
Diancie’s body tensed up again.
“If you simply want it to have the effect of limb regeneration, it isn't particularly difficult.”
The entire deck fell into a deathly silence.
Diancie froze on the spot.
The adjutant behind her nearly dropped his recording board.
The first to react were the eavesdropping guards. One of them, who was hanging a scabbard onto the weapon rack, fumbled. The scabbard fell onto the deck with a sharp 'clack.'
No one looked at the fallen scabbard.
Every eye was fixed on Klein.
Diancie’s lips moved. Her breathing pattern changed, and the rise and fall of her chest was much more pronounced than before.
“What did you say?”
“I said, modifying the formula of that potion to give it the capability of limb regeneration—” Klein took the strap of the canvas bag off his shoulder and draped it casually over a nearby mooring post.
“—isn't particularly difficult.”
Diancie stared at him.
She stared for a full five seconds.
So many complex things were swirling in those blue eyes—shock, wild joy, doubt, and scrutiny. They flashed in turn, but none could gain the upper hand.
The adjutant beside her was completely stunned. His mouth was slightly agape, though he said nothing. He was likely thinking of too many things at once: military spending, wounded soldiers, combat strength, political leverage, the Empire’s demographic structure—and then his brain simply overloaded.
Ophelia stood by Klein’s side, remaining silent.
She turned her head and glanced at Klein.
It was a very brief glance.
Then she looked away.
Her lips pursed slightly, forming a curve she hadn't even noticed herself.
“Mr. Klein,” Diancie finally spoke.
She took a deep—no, her chest heaved violently once, and then she spoke in an extremely solemn tone.
“I need to discuss this with you in detail.”
Klein looked at her with a gentle smile on his face.
“Of course.”
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