"Twentieth century… no, guests from all centuries—welcome aboard the Capitano!I am Captain Spavento, and on behalf of the entire crew, I greet you!"The young man's voice rang out, his tone theatrical, his gestures sweeping, every pause in his greeting delivered like a stage actor.
Miguel stared at the captain, who looked about his age, and muttered inwardly—This guy's definitely got a screw loose."Tch. They're just pirates—why the hell are they acting like performers?"
"La Compagnia del Vapore Velato—your praise is most appreciated," Spavento said with a slight bow.
"...?" Miguel blinked, thinking he must have misheard.
"La Compagnia del Vapore Velato? Giovanni's troupe?" Fais asked.
"Indeed," Spavento confirmed with a smile."And I am the very man playing the role of pirate captain Spavento—Giovanni Sarti, at your service."
He gave a theatrical wink, then added,"Of course, if this performance doesn't suit your tastes, I could always play Captain Nemo instead.Though… I must admit I don't know much about that particular gentleman—only that I picked up a ship he left behind."
"Picked up?" Fais raised an eyebrow.
"Yes. One fine morning, the director was doing vocal warmups toward the sea and sun—when suddenly, boom—a steel leviathan shot out of a whirlpool beneath the waves.Not a soul aboard. The logbook was tattered and incomplete.To me, Captain Nemo and his Nautilus remain nothing more than a strange tale—one with no beginning or end."
"Are you joking?"
"Ah, merely a modest jest in the grand drama we call Fate," Giovanni said cheerfully."But you have to admit—overturning order, rewriting destiny, dispensing justice from beyond the stars—now that's interesting."
"Even in a world as lawless as this one?"
"Oh? You seem to value order, young warrior," Giovanni said, suddenly pivoting with a grin."Why not begin properly—by introducing yourselves?"
"...Huh? (How the hell did he jump from that to introductions?!)"
"I'm Giovanni Sarti, captain of the Capitano, from seventeenth-century Ilno," Giovanni began with theatrical flair."This is our boatswain, Rena Angelina, from Moras, the same era as mine.This is our engineer, James Arran, from twentieth-century Norna.He's actually the one who named the Capitano—we could've kept calling it the Nautilus, sure, but the crew unanimously agreed that we had to honor the Norna boy who rebuilt this entire ship."
"…Oh, come on. You're the one who wanted to rename it," Arran said, waving his hand with a sigh. "And I didn't do anything extraordinary. I just followed the blueprints."
"Oh, right—this is the Tin Man, our first mate."
"…Pleased to meet you."The Tin Man, dressed in a sharp suit, nodded slightly. His voice was calm, mechanical, devoid of warmth.
"We respect his wish to remain anonymous," Giovanni added."So we ask that you refrain from asking him unnecessary personal questions."
"…That's way too suspicious," Miguel muttered under his breath.
"Hmm, maybe to strangers," Giovanni replied with a soft chuckle."But to me, he's the most honest and reliable of us all."
"…Whatever. Doesn't matter what kind of 'metal man' he is—since you've introduced yourselves, it's only fair we return the gesture.I'm Miguel Wegenstadt, and this is my friend Fais Allenbell.We're travelers who fell into this world by accident."
"…By accident? You mean, like us—you blink, and suddenly you're here?"
"Yeah, pretty much. We were sorting books in a library when we suddenly ended up on that island.And to us, you guys are all basically ancient history."
The crew fell silent for a moment.
Eventually, it was the Tin Man who broke the quiet:"'Ancient history'? Perhaps that's true in your world.But those of us who dwell here come from similar, yet distinct worlds."
"With the world so vast," Fais asked, "how can you be sure everyone comes from different ones?"
"It's simple," the first mate answered."There are many aboard this ship who hail from the same era, even the same place—but the details in their histories differ.For example: in Rena's world, the captain had already been dead for fifty years.But in the captain's time, Rena's homeland, Moras, was nothing more than a name—an untamed frontier untouched by civilization."
"And now, gentlemen—" Giovanni cut in smoothly, interrupting the first mate,"Allow me to offer you some advice."
"…Advice?" Miguel raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, nothing complicated. Just one sentence:If you want to survive in this world, you'd better start conserving your ammunition.Not that it's entirely hopeless—you can replenish energy, just at a vastly slower rate.Take our Capitano, for example. Even with heavy modifications, she can only carry six torpedoes at a time."
"Why's that?"
"Hmm… I don't know the specifics.The scholars in Port Alexandria speculate that this world is saturated with some kind of strange substance—something that disrupts all forms of energy.Or maybe… you're just too used to relying on energy weapons. Can't live without them, can you?"
"Hey! Don't look down on me!" Miguel slammed the railing, energy rising in his voice."You talk a big game… Why don't you back it up?I challenge you—no weapons. Just hand-to-hand!"
"Hahaha. A duel? Fistfight?" Giovanni turned toward the first mate."Interested in humbling this hot-headed young man?"
"…I refuse," the Tin Man said flatly.
"See? Even your own people can't stand you," Miguel grinned, pouncing on the moment.
"—However," the Tin Man added, after a pause,"If the director were to consider approving a combat bonus in this month's paycheck… I might reconsider."
"What? Are you some kind of mercenary?!"
"Hahaha! Now now, what kind of captain would I be if I shortchanged my crew on overtime pay?" Giovanni laughed and clapped the Tin Man on the shoulder.
"…Hey, Fais. Say something, would you?" Miguel turned to his friend.
"Say what? Weren't you the one who asked for a fight?"Fais shrugged."I'm just a librarian, you know. I don't have your kind of power."
"Y–you—!" Miguel flushed red, tongue-tied, unable to come up with a comeback.
"Huff... huff... you're strong..."
"—No, no, you're the truly remarkable warrior here."From the sidelines, Giovanni clapped his hands, his eyes gleaming with genuine admiration."Even without access to your familiar weapons or techniques, you still performed exceptionally. That deserves respect.Keep training, and you'll surely surpass me in close combat one day."
The heat of the duel still lingered on the deck. The sea breeze swept through, stretching the scent of sweat and salt.Giovanni's smile faded slightly as he shifted tone.
"Well then, since you've vented your energy through a little sparring—how about we trade information now?What exactly is the goal of your expedition?In exchange, we'll tell you the purpose of the Capitano's long voyage."
A brief silence fell among them.
"..."
"No comment?" Giovanni tilted his head, his grin now tinged with subtle pressure."In that case, you just might miss out on the chance to become official crew of the Capitano."
"…Tch."Miguel looked away, tapping the hilt of his sword with a finger.
"Well, if there's something you don't want me to know, I suppose—"
"—No. Gramps, you stay," Miguel cut in, crisp and firm."You've helped us. Don't treat yourself like an outsider."He drew a breath and brought the topic back into focus."Let's get to the point. Fais, explain it to them—what's our mission?"
Fais nodded and looked around at the gathered crew."First—has anyone heard of the term Anchor of Elsewhere?"
He recalled the notes and warnings left behind by the previous curator—phrases flickering through his mind like pages turned by sea wind.
"In short, beyond our planet, there are many others.Some are similar to ours, others completely different.And some… haven't yet come of age."
"'Come of age'? You mean they haven't developed civilizations yet?" Giovanni asked.
"No. Quite the opposite," Fais shook his head."These so-called immature worlds may have already developed civilizations at a high level.But the worlds themselves lack certain structural specifications.Compared to matured planets, they're too small—or in some cases, not even fully formed as complete planets."
"Wait—are you saying these immature planets don't even have enough mass for gravity to pull them into spherical shapes,yet they still develop civilizations? That's... hard to reconcile with our understanding of physics," Giovanni frowned.
"Exactly. These kinds of planets often cling to the vicinity of matured worlds,like a parasitic relationship in ecology.They're nearly impossible to observe through normal physical means."
Fais paused, then offered the term he had coined:
"I call these immature planets White Raven Worlds.As for why they're able to attach themselves to matured ones—from a higher-dimensional perspective, they intermittently reach out with something like a tendril—to touch, observe, and copy the geography and cultural output of the host world.That tendril, visible only under high-dimensional observation,is what we refer to as the Anchor of Elsewhere."
"Hmm… that's a bit hard to follow," Giovanni admitted, scratching the back of his head."'Higher dimensions,' 'observation,' and all that... Sounds a lot like what Tin Man says about parallel worlds, though?"
"—No. That's a different matter," the Tin Man corrected succinctly."And the Anchor of Elsewhere is, at this point, still best understood as the working hypothesis of that curator you mentioned.That said, one thing is certain: this world we're in now...hasn't yet achieved the status of a fully matured 'planetary state.'"