Chapter 499: A Calm Day

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation.com

In the governor’s mansion of the city-state, Tyrian stood in his grand office, carefully adjusting the numerous medals and ribbons on his chest before a mirror. His imposing figure, marked by a single eye, was softened by the crisp, new executive uniform and the gleaming awards that adorned him, transforming his stern appearance into that of a trustworthy authority figure — exactly what the city needed from its chief executive at this crucial time.

Taking a deep breath, Tyrian shifted his gaze to the other side of the spacious office, where two veteran sailors were diligently hanging the new city-state flag on the wall. Next to the flag, a line of inspiring words, etched near the door half a century ago, read: “Let as many people survive as possible.”

Tyrian silently contemplated these words for a moment before nodding and moving towards his large, stately desk. The upcoming official event gave him a brief respite, a moment to mentally rehearse the proceedings or steady his emotions. On the desk, a complex assembly of lenses whirred into motion, and the surface of a central crystal ball began to glow faintly.

From the soft glow, an image of Lucretia emerged. Clad in a somber black dress, she looked at Tyrian and said, “That uniform suits you well,” in her characteristic “Sea Witch” tone.

“It complements my eyepatch,” Tyrian replied, adjusting a button near his jacket collar and glancing at his sister’s image in the crystal ball. “Are you here just to tease me?”

“I’m genuinely complimenting you,” Lucretia asserted seriously. “You haven’t paid this much attention to your appearance in years. That rough and intentionally intimidating pirate persona doesn’t suit you at all.”

“I might need to keep up this appearance for a while,” Tyrian paused. “Until a more fitting chief executive steps in or Father devises other plans. Eventually, I may long for those days of unrestrained freedom.”

“But that’s not today,” Lucretia smiled faintly. “What’s it like, being about to be inaugurated as a city-state’s chief executive? I’ve heard rumors about a forthcoming parade where you’ll present yourself to the public.”

“The parade is aimed at reassuring the public,” Tyrian explained. “Convincing them that order has been restored and that the city-state’s leadership is accountable. I’m not particularly thrilled about it, but it’s necessary. As for what it feels like to be the chief executive…”

He paused briefly, then shook his head and continued. “I don’t feel any distinct change because the handover of government duties and team-building have already been accomplished. Today’s ‘inauguration ceremony’ is just a public formality.”

“Is that so? Well, I hope your ‘formality’ goes smoothly, big brother,” Lucretia teased, her laughter ringing out. Her expression turned serious. “How are Father’s orders progressing?”

“I’ve started drafting confidential letters for the other city-states,” Tyrian shared. “But the specifics need careful thought. I need to convey a stark warning, make them understand the gravity of our situation, avoid any ambiguity, and prevent inappropriate or excessive responses. Honestly, this kind of bureaucratic work is more challenging than commanding a fleet against deep-sea creatures or other pirates.”

“Just be straightforward and serious,” Lucretia suggested nonchalantly. “Those who hold the position of chief executive are intelligent or at least have wise advisers. They’ll know how to respond. You’re just offering them a reminder, not instructing them like a governess.”

“I’m prepared to contact the Explorer’s Association. I can’t wait to see their reaction.”

“A warning from the Vanished Fleet to the civilized world,” Tyrian said with some emotion. “The last time such an event occurred was a century ago.”

“Yes, that was when Father first revealed the vision of the impending border collapse in the ‘Inner Region,’” Lucretia recalled. “I remember the tolling church bells. Every city-state’s newspaper debated the warnings from Duncan Abnomar, the renowned adventurer.”

“So many years have passed, and he’s observing the ‘border’ of the world again. History seems to have come full circle. Perhaps the Vanished never truly lost its way. Its century in subspace was just part of a broader journey we don’t yet understand. Now, it returns, bearing the shine of a new path, just like the phrase left by the mad poet, Puman.”

“They could once navigate straight until they circumnavigated the world, reappearing from an unexpected angle,” Tyrian softly recited the well-known verse from history. Rising from his chair, he listened to the faint melody of a band from outside the office and the sound of approaching footsteps in the hallway. The time to present the city with its new chief executive had arrived.

“Good luck, elder brother. And don’t forget my spirit lens.”

“It’s at the forefront of my mind this time.”

A biting, frigid wind whistled through the sparse shrubbery lining the path. It blew past a dark, intricately carved fence, swept over silent tombstones, and whipped around the empty platforms that once held corpses on either side of the path before dissipating deep within the cemetery. Two figures ambled along the cemetery path. One was exceptionally tall and robust, dressed in a pitch-black coat and crowned with a similarly jet-black wide-brimmed hat. His visible skin was concealed under layers of bandages, giving an eerie impression.

The other figure wore a simple, black nun’s robe, her eyes shielded, her sandy hair cascading down.

“I thought you would attend Governor Tyrian’s inauguration ceremony, even in this incarnation,” Agatha murmured as she walked alongside Duncan. “Arranging an appropriate seat for you wouldn’t have been difficult.”

“I have no intention of making an appearance. He’s doing well. My presence could unsettle him,” Duncan responded. “I plan to wave at him from a distance when the parade passes by.”

As he spoke, he surveyed the deserted cemetery path and the empty platforms adjacent to it.

“I miss this place. I remember it was once filled with coffins.”

“These are extraordinary times, so we had to temporarily alter our process for sending off the dead. The bodies had to be expedited to the incinerator, with the silent priests consoling and bidding them farewell next to the furnace. This made the cemetery seem eerily quiet,” Agatha explained.

Duncan grunted in acknowledgment. As they approached the end of the path, he suddenly halted—a modest guard’s cottage came into view with an unexpected guest at the front. Resembling a tightly wrapped snowball with a thick white winter coat and fluffy hat, a girl of about twelve was diligently sweeping the snow in front of the house with a broom almost as tall as she was.

“Is that Annie?” Duncan slightly turned his head, softly inquiring.

“Yes, she’s been visiting here every day during her school break, except for the initial days of martial law,” Agatha confirmed quietly.

“The previous aged guardian passed, and a replacement has yet to be appointed. Therefore, the cemetery is temporarily under the purview of the nearest church. Since she’s not causing any harm, the church permits her to come and go as she wishes.”

“Do you also consent to this?”

“Mhmm…”

The girl busily sweeping the snow finally noticed the activity on the path. She turned her head, her expression reflecting surprise at the sight of the two figures. After a few moments of stunned silence, she dropped the broom and ran over joyfully. “Sister Gatekeeper, and Uncle Duncan!”

Annie greeted the two familiar faces cheerfully. However, after her exclamation, as if recalling something, she promptly straightened her posture and turned to Agatha. “Mum said I should address you as either Gatekeeper or Archbishop…”

“It’s alright, you can call me whatever you feel comfortable with.” Agatha chuckled, reaching out to gently pat Annie’s hat. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Not at all,” Annie shook her head, then grasped Agatha’s hand and pointed towards the cottage. “Your hands are freezing. Come warm up by the fire. I’ve also brewed some herbal tea.”

Agatha instinctively prepared to decline politely but noticed that Duncan had already begun walking towards the cottage. Surprised, she followed him. Inside the tidy and modest guard’s house, a fire blazed heartily, the firewood crackling and hissing. Steam billowed from the tea stove, carrying the clear scent and bitter undertones of the herbs. Annie poured two cups of steaming tea and extended the cups to Duncan and Agatha. “I prepared this for the church guardians who will drop by later. Even if you don’t drink it, you can use it to warm your hands.”

Only now did the girl seem to remember that the ‘Sister Gatekeeper’ in front of her was already deceased.

Agatha didn’t take offense and thanked her, letting the cup gradually warm her fingers. “Are you feeling warmer now?” Annie asked again.

The teacup and fire were also cold in her world, but Agatha offered a gentle smile. “Much warmer.”

Then, she observed Duncan periodically glancing around. “What are you looking for?” she questioned, bemused.

“I think this could be a nice place to settle.”

Duncan withdrew his gaze from scanning the room and spoke to Agatha. “After all, maintaining an avatar like this in a house seems somewhat extravagant.”

Agatha looked taken aback, gradually understanding his implication. A look of astonishment washed over her face. “You… are you…?”

“The Vanished needs to carry on with its voyage, and this incarnation of mine that resides in the city also requires a place to call home.”

Duncan stated nonchalantly, “There’s no need to fuss about finding a new guard. This could save you quite a bit of effort.”

For those that just want to support me, you can follow the link to paypal donating. Sadly you won’t be able to get the benefit of reading ahead 

[Table of Content]

[Previous Chapter]

[Next Chapter]