Time at sea always passes exceptionally slowly.
Horses and carriages are too slow; unless the Ocean Disaster was at full speed, its pace was just that. This kind of rushed travel life always made Losa long for the days of planes and high-speed rail.
It would be great if he could summon a retainer skilled in spatial teleportation.
Losa often had such thoughts.
After playing a game of dice with the sailors of the Ocean Disaster, he casually threw the dice aside—nowadays, his skills with the dice had become unsurpassed on the Ocean Disaster.
The coins on these zombie sailors were all won by him; now, whenever he wanted to play dice, they instantly showed expressions of terror and were unwilling to accompany him for even another round.
A master finds solitude, and such is the case.
Standing alone at the ship's prow, Losa felt a bit restless.
"I wonder if the war has already erupted, and which route will Saladin choose to advance from?"
