Aaron paddled steadily alongside Edrin, guiding the boat across the calm waters.
After scanning the surroundings, he pointed ahead.
"Edrin, we’ll fish here."
They were about 700 ters from shore, where the water shimred with quiet promise.
Edrin stopped rowing and smiled, handing fishing rods and bait to both Aaron and Torvald.
Torvald hesitated, glancing at the water.
"Sir Aaron, are you sure we’ll catch anything here?"
Edrin chuckled, his grin wide.
"Mr. Torvald, you might not know, but Aaron’s a master at fishing. He once caught five orange fish in a row!"
He nudged Torvald playfully.
"Go on, cast a line. If nothing bites, we’ll move."
Aaron said nothing.
He simply baited his hook, cast the line, and within a minute, pulled out a gleaming blue fish.
Torvald blinked in surprise.
Aaron calmly chopped the fish and tossed the pieces back into the river.
Edrin’s eyes lit up.
"That’ll draw more in. Mr. Torvald, hurry, cast your line! You might get lucky."
Torvald followed Edrin’s advice and cast his line into the water.
As he waited, his thoughts drifted, and he asked,
"Sir Aaron, what are your thoughts on ships? Is there any vessel that can sail on its own?"
Aaron’s gaze turned thoughtful.
"It’s possible. But even if a ship moves on its own, it still needs people to guide and control it."
Torvald blinked.
He had never heard such a reply before.
Most people he’d spoken to would simply nod, dismiss, or change the subject.
Is Aaron bluffing? Or... is he truly different?
He decided to test further.
"Well, Sir Aaron, I’ve built an experintal skiff. I added two poles and tied cloth at both ends."
He paused, watching Aaron’s face.
To his surprise, Aaron was listening intently, eyes focused, expression serious.
Torvald felt a flicker of excitent, soone was actually interested.
He continued,
"The skiff can travel across water, but there are several conditions..."
Aaron raised a hand gently.
"Let guess."
Torvald fell silent, stunned.
Aaron spoke calmly,
"The wind must flow in the sa direction as the boat. If it blows against it, the skiff moves backward."
Torvald’s eyes widened.
He understands...
Aaron continued,
"The skiff might be heavier, more costly. Hard to control when turning. And there’s a risk, it could overturn and sink."
Torvald stared at him, admiration blooming in his chest.
He had never felt this before, not with anyone.
"Sir Aaron," he said quietly,
"I’ve never admired anyone before. But your intelligence...it’s on another level. You’re right. The skiff did overturn and sank into the sea."
Aaron didn’t dwell on the praise. Instead, he smiled and said,
"Mr. Torvald, you jest. You’re the true inventor, your mind reaches farther than most. I only said what anyone might guess."
He paused, then added with quiet conviction,
"There’s a phrase, I don’t know if you’ve heard it before."
"Failure is the mother of all success."
Torvald froze.
The words struck deep.
He had heard many things in his life, but never that.
Edrin, though unsure of the technical talk between them, felt the weight of that final sentence.
He sighed, moved.
"Aaron, you’re full of surprises."
Just then, Torvald felt a tug on his fishing rod.
He snapped back to the mont and began reeling in the line, his thoughts swirling.
Failure is the mother of all success...
Most people only saw his brilliance.
They didn’t know the countless failures, the long nights, the silent frustrations.
Even sothing as simple as a wardrobe.
It had taken him a full year to design, and three more months to shape it perfectly.
Every invention was a battle.
Every success, a scar.
Just as Torvald reeled in the fish, Aaron leaned forward and asked,
"Mr. Torvald, if you don’t mind... may I kill the fish you caught?"
Torvald blinked, confused by the sudden request.
Before he could respond, Edrin chuckled from the side,
"Mr. Torvald, don’t mind him. Aaron has this strange hobby, he insists on doing it himself."
Torvald glanced at Aaron, then waved his hand dismissively.
"No need to explain. Do as you please."
Aaron nodded with a quiet smile, already reaching for the fish.
Torvald wanted to speak more, but he noticed Aaron was deeply focused on his fishing.
Still, the mont felt too important to let pass.
He hesitated, then asked softly,
"Sir Aaron... may I continue joining you during fishing?"
Aaron looked up, a smile spreading across his face.
"Of course. Don’t worry, you’ll get your share once we sell the fish."
Torvald nodded, a quiet warmth blooming in his chest.
Edrin, ever cheerful, didn’t mind at all.
"More hands ans more fish," he said with a grin.
"And more fish ans more coin. Sounds good to ."
Ti passed gently, and Torvald found himself truly enjoying the mont.
For the first ti in years, he felt at ease, not just because of the fishing, but because he had finally t soone who understood his ideas.
Aaron glanced at the three barrels now brimming with fish.
He stood up and said,
"Let’s stop for now. That’s enough for today."
Edrin wiped the sweat from his brow and grinned,
"Indeed. We must’ve caught over fifty fish, that’s more than fifty silver coins!"
Aaron nodded, satisfied.
"Good haul. But first, we need to get back to shore."
He reached for the map, and his expression shifted.
They had drifted, a full thousand ters from the shore.
Aaron frowned slightly, making a ntal note.
From now on, I’ll check our location every hour. Drifting too far could be dangerous.
As Torvald rowed steadily, he glanced at his stats.
His experience points had risen, from 1300 to 1900.
He’d killed 60 fish during the trip.
A small smile tugged at his lips.
Progress... even in the quiet monts.
Then he looked over at Edrin, who was breathing heavily, his arms limp from rowing.
Without a word, Torvald reached for the oar and took over.
The boat was heavy now, weighed down by barrels of fish.
Rowing back to shore wasn’t easy.
But Torvald didn’t complain.
He simply leaned into the rhythm, letting the motion soothe his thoughts.
Reviews
All reviews (0)