"For the Phaeacians care nothing for the bow or the quiver, but rather for the masts and oars of ships and for the balanced ships in which they take pleasure as they traverse the hoary sea,"
Homer, The Odyssey, Scroll 6, line 6
In the hidden drydock of a private shipyard — carved into the Adriatic cliffs like a secret held between gods — he works alone.
The helmsman is no ordinary builder. He is Phaeacian, though that name has been forgotten, drowned in centuries and bureaucracy. To the world, he is just a naval designer. A technician. But to those who know how to read the waves, he is a descendant of Alcinous' line, and his blood hums with currents.
He does not speak of war, nor worship the bow or the quiver.
"The sea," he murmurs, welding in silence, "is the only battlefield."And for that, he does not build ships. He births them.
This vessel — the one destined for Nessuno, the trickster returned — is not just a ship. It is a ghost of a myth, made flesh with titanium ribs and AI nerves.
Its hull is crafted from carbon-forged obsidian laminate, seamless, soundless, impervious to radar and prophecy. It reflects no sun.Its engines are silent hydro-turbines fed by black lithium cells.It can sail under any flag or none. Its operating system, called simply Kymata ("waves"), is an evolving intelligence that calculates wind, law, and probability.
But the helmsman's greatest art lies not in the materials — it lies in memory, in his memory.
From a single preserved scroll of old helsmen, passed from father to son, scanned and fed into the Kymata AI, he extracted the exact curvature and tension of Nessuno's original black-prowed ship. The oarlock placements. The perfect length of mast. The alignment of the stern-post — all replicated through neural design and micro-forging.
The modern Argo — named with irony, hubris, or fate — looks new, but beneath the gleam, it is ancient. It remembers Ithaca, Troy, and Circe.
Its keel was anointed with fig sap.Its prow bears a carved owl's eye, always watching.And on its wheelhouse, barely visible under layers of matte sealant, are the words:
"For the Phaeacians care nothing for the bow or the quiver,but for masts and oars and ships that cross the hoary sea."
When Nessuno comes aboard, he won't know this man's name.
But the ship will.
And it will obey no one else.