Chapter 161 “Another Connection”
This Translation is hosted on bcatranslation
Inside the enchanting store known as Rose’s Doll House, the elven shopkeeper believed that the most exceptional doll creator in the entire world was a human woman named Lucretia Abnomar. Interestingly, Lucretia was the offspring of the legendary “Captain Duncan,” a name that resonated with fame and admiration.
When the elderly elven shopkeeper made this declaration, a hushed stillness fell over the quaint shop as if the air itself had decided to pause. The silence was abruptly broken by a loud, almost seismic cough that burst forth from Duncan, who had been listening: “Ahem, ahem, ahem…”
“Are you alright, my dear customer?” The elven shopkeeper’s eyes widened, a look of genuine concern etched on her face. Accustomed to dealing with shorter-lived races like humans, she momentarily worried that the man before her might be on the verge of a serious health crisis. “Shall I call for a physician?”
“Cough… I… ahem, I’m alright,” Duncan managed to splutter, finally stifling his cough. He hesitated before waving dismissively at the shopkeeper. At the same time, he mentally soothed the cursed doll aboard his ship, the Vanished, who had been startled by his explosive coughing fit. “I simply choked on my own saliva. You were saying something about Lucr—”
“Lucretia Abnomar,” the shopkeeper interrupted, her face taking on a somewhat incredulous expression as if to say, “You humans are so easily startled. Haven’t you heard? This is common knowledge.” She continued, “Lucretia is a true master in the craft of doll making, and she is one of the children of Captain Duncan.”
Duncan, who had just barely regained his composure, was startled into choking once more. “Pfft—”
Simultaneously, back on the deck of the Vanished, Alice—the doll who had been alarmed by Duncan’s earlier bout of violent coughing—was taken aback yet again by his sudden exclamation. Holding a large basket filled with vegetables and fruits, she looked bewilderedly at the captain, who seemed to be behaving rather oddly today. “Is everything alright?”
“I’m fine,” Duncan assured her, taking a deep, steadying breath. He had been practicing for some time to control his two separate bodies seamlessly and had almost lost that control just now. Wanting to avoid attracting too much attention from the inhabitants of the city-state of Pland, he gestured for the doll to leave. “Go back to the cabin by yourself; I have some important matters to handle.”
“Are you certain you’re okay?” Alice continued to look at him skeptically, her pale purple eyes mirroring Duncan’s own visage. “Would you like me to help in any way—perhaps pat your back to help you breathe better or something of the sort?”
“Do you even know how to do that?” Duncan asked.
“No,” Alice admitted.
“Then off you go!”
“Alright.”
After sending the naïve doll away, Duncan refocused his attention on the elven shopkeeper who had shocked him twice already. With earnestness radiating from his eyes, he looked up at the older, slightly plump elven woman before asking, “This Captain Duncan you’re talking about, is he the one from the mythical ship known as the Vanished?”
“Please, don’t recklessly say the name of that ship!” The shopkeeper hurriedly interrupted Duncan, her eyes wide with a mixture of caution and superstition. “You might be unaware, being an ordinary human, but mentioning the name of such an ominous and cursed vessel can bring about misfortune. If you’re not careful, that ship could even haunt your dreams!”
“You have a point,” Duncan responded, taking a moment to find his words. He felt a momentary knot in his stomach as if he’d been caught red-handed. He then cleared his throat and nodded. “You mentioned that this captain has not only a daughter named Lucretia but also a son?”
“Indeed, it was about a century ago that I met them both. The son’s name is Tyrian Abnomar,” the elderly elven shopkeeper began, her eyes losing focus for a moment as if recalling a distant past. “He initially rose through the ranks to become a general serving under the Frost Queen. However, there was a rebellion in that city-state shortly after he joined her forces. Tyrian then gathered a group of loyal followers and turned to a life of piracy. And his sister, Lucretia Abnomar, as I’ve said, is an unparalleled artisan in the world of doll-making.”
She paused, her eyes narrowing in reflection. “But, you see, this all happened quite some time ago, especially by human reckoning. These days, not many here in Pland even talk about them. Even in the elven city-states, people have grown wary of discussing anything that could be connected to that accursed ship. Yet, what’s there to fear? Unlike their father, both siblings are sane and still serve as captains.”
Duncan’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Wait, you’re saying they’re still alive? Both of them?”
“Yes, they are,” the elderly elf confirmed, letting out a resigned sigh. “According to the rumors, they’re under some sort of subspace curse that has granted them eternal life. They will likely outlive even me.”
Duncan was momentarily speechless.
“Are you absolutely sure you’re alright, my dear customer?” The shopkeeper inquired once more, her eyebrows furrowing with concern. “You’ve looked rather pale since we began discussing this topic. Is it disturbing you? I wouldn’t be surprised; most humans find these tales unsettling and can hardly bear to hear them, even in broad daylight.”
“I’m more than willing to hear you out,” Duncan quickly recovered his poise, straightening his posture and focusing his intent gaze on the elven shopkeeper. “Please, could you share more details about your encounters with these siblings? You said you’ve met them before?”
“A century ago,” the elderly lady reminisced, her voice tinged with a nostalgic tone. “I still had my shop right here on this very street. The siblings came in one day to browse. Lucretia selected a one-third-scale doll, and Tyrian took out his purse to pay for it. They were still quite young back then, and their father was—well, let’s not discuss him. It’s too dangerous to speak of him openly.”
Her eyes dimmed for a moment before brightening again. “About a decade later, I bumped into Lucretia while I was traveling to the city of Lansa to meet with fellow traders. By then, she had already earned a reputation as an extraordinarily talented doll maker and mechanist. The dolls she created, driven by intricate clockwork mechanisms and imbued with magical properties, were beyond even what I, an experienced artisan, could achieve.”
The elven shopkeeper continued her narrative, delving into tales that would be considered the stuff of legends or ancient history to most humans. For her, though, these were personal memories captured and preserved through the long lens of her own extended lifespan.
It appears that a fondness for storytelling and reminiscing knows no racial bounds; once an elderly individual starts down this path, the conversation often seems to flow without end.
As for Duncan, his emotional state was a whirlpool of conflicting feelings, but he managed to present a calm exterior. He listened intently, hanging on every word the elderly elf shared. Each tidbit of astonishing information was like a gemstone of knowledge that he carefully stored away in the vault of his mind.
To average denizens of the city-state of Pland, the epic saga of a cursed captain from over a hundred years ago and his similarly accursed children would merely be stories from a bygone era. However, for this long-lived elf, what others perceived as dark secrets were merely things she had personally witnessed in her earlier years. She provided Duncan with an abundance of details about Lucretia and even touched upon Tyrian and his ship, the “Sea Mist,” although her information about them was noticeably less comprehensive.
“Tyrian Abnomar swore loyalty to the Frost Queen about fifty years ago, a period not too far removed from our present day,” she mentioned offhandedly. “Many older humans would probably have heard whispers of it. But these are largely secondhand accounts, considering that the city-states near the Cold Sea have always maintained a certain level of isolation and rarely engaged in extensive dealings with Pland.”
Duncan felt his heart race within his chest. He was, of course, acutely aware of who the Frost Queen was—after all, he even had a life-sized doll of her in his own residence, a doll that had the unsettling habit of moving around autonomously. What he hadn’t expected was that this queen, executed by rebels half a century ago, would connect back to him in such an intimate manner—through a “first-born son” whose existence had been completely unknown to him until this conversation.
“As for the Frostbite Rebellion that took place around fifty years ago,” he began cautiously, putting on the demeanor of a casual customer intrigued by historical gossip, “I’ve encountered some mentions in history books, though the details were always quite sketchy.”
“That whole episode is enveloped in a fog of uncertainty,” the shopkeeper gestured dismissively with her hand. “Much of the confusion likely stems from its suspected ties to ‘that ship,’ and who would dare to document anything clearly about it?”
“And after the Frostbite Rebellion, did Tyrian Abnomar resort to piracy?” Duncan inquired, carefully steering the conversation. “Is he still active in the region of the Cold Sea?”
The elven shopkeeper paused for a moment, seemingly sifting through her extensive mental archives. “As far as I know, yes,” she finally responded. “The last I heard of him was about twenty or so years ago, from one of my elven relatives who is involved in maritime trade. Tyrian was reportedly still operating as a pirate in the icy waters of the Cold Sea.”
“So, do Tyrian and Lucretia still maintain contact with each other?” Duncan ventured to ask, his curiosity clearly piqued.
“How should I know?” The shopkeeper responded, lifting her hand in a dismissive gesture. “I’m just an aging elf who happens to run a humble shop at a nondescript corner in the city-state of Pland. While I did meet them once a long time ago and remember perhaps a bit more than the average human, I certainly don’t have insights into their current familial relations.”
“A fair point,” Duncan readily acknowledged, conceding the limits of the shopkeeper’s knowledge.
Sensing that he may have displayed an unusual degree of interest in the subject matter, Duncan decided it would be prudent not to probe any further. However, it seemed as though a lightbulb had suddenly gone off in the elderly woman’s mind. Rising from her perch behind the counter, she announced, “Ah, now that we’re on the topic of Lucretia, something just occurred to me. I have an item I’ve been holding onto for years. Would it interest you?”
With those words, she made her way towards a short, almost hidden door situated at the corner of a creaky stairwell. Unlocking it, she entered what appeared to be a storage room and began a somewhat prolonged search among what Duncan imagined to be a collection of relics and oddities. Eventually, she emerged holding a box roughly half a meter in length and set it down on the counter.
“And what might this be?” Duncan asked, his eyes filled with curiosity as he peered at the box now occupying the space between them.
“It’s a doll,” the elderly shopkeeper declared, her face lighting up with a gentle smile. Carefully, she unfastened the clasp securing the box and lifted its lid to unveil its contents. “Her name is Nilu. Do you recall what I mentioned earlier about Lucretia and Tyrian purchasing a doll from my shop? Well, they actually bought one doll that was part of a pair of sister dolls. The doll they selected was named ‘Luni,’ the older sister. The doll remaining here, her younger sister, is ‘Nilu.'”
As she spoke, her fingers delicately traced the features of the doll inside the box. The way she touched it, you could tell this object carried memories and significance far beyond its apparent material worth—a sentimental relic from a chapter of history personally witnessed by this ancient yet sprightly elven shopkeeper.
Thank you for the chapter!
The dolls are going to be quite the shock for the siblings.