Chapter 102

Chapter 102: Goathead’s Nemesis

Alice accepted the fact that her crate had been rebuilt as a part of the Vanished without any fuss, then quickly pushed everything about Queen Ray Nora of Frostholm out of her mind. Her easy-going attitude was something Duncan could never hope to match.

According to the doll herself, she was so calm because she saw all of this as something outside of her, something that did not really belong to her.

Alice sat back down on the lid of her wooden crate with a happy smile and said: “Anyway, I live on this ship now and I don’t plan to leave. It is no big deal if the crate becomes part of the Vanished. The Frostholm queen thing is even simpler – I don’t even know her. I don’t know if I am her, or what kind of person she used to be. It was all half a century ago anyway… let history stay history.”

“As long as you can take it easy.” Duncan simply looked quietly into Alice’s pale violet eyes. After a long time, he nodded slightly.

In the end, he still did not bring up the “details” in the echo, and did not mention what Queen Ray Nora of Frostholm had suddenly said to him before her execution.

After all, even if he did, this doll would not know anything… and it was good that she could stay this carefree.

Duncan let out a soft breath and said: “All right. For now we have a basic grasp and control of your spirit coffin, but we still do not know if the Decapitation effect of Anomaly 099 is under control as well. We will have to run more tests when we get the chance. I will go now.”

“Take care, Captain~”

Leaving Alice’s room, Duncan went back up to the deck. Full of thoughts, he walked slowly toward the captain’s cabin, sorting through the problems they had run into so far.

He had set out to find out whether Anomaly 099’s Decapitation power was controllable, but in the end he still had no answer. Instead, he had accidentally touched on an old case from half a century ago… the Frostholm queen who had been executed by rebels, the charge that she had colluded with the Vanished, and a mysterious plan called “Abyssal Dive”. These things circled in his mind and would not fade.

Besides these, there was one more thing that bothered him.

Duncan reached into his coat and took out something.

It was a small hair clip shaped like a silver-white feather wrapped by sea waves.

No matter how he looked at it, it was not something a rough male seafarer would own.

Whenever he looked at it, he felt a distant and hazy sense of nostalgia. This hair clip seemed to have had a special meaning for the real “Captain Duncan” of the past.

Duncan was full of questions, but he knew he could not ask Goathead about this directly.

He put the hair clip away and, heavy with thoughts, returned to the captain’s cabin. Goathead was still there, diligently steering the ship. To Duncan’s surprise, the pigeon AI, who was supposed to wait on standby in the bedroom, was there with him.

The bird was standing proudly on one of Goathead’s horns, arrogantly rubbing its beak against Goathead’s forehead.

Duncan opened the door and saw this scene. He could not help asking with curiosity: “Since when did you two get so close?”

The pigeon flapped its wings and stayed silent, acting aloof. Goathead creaked as he turned his head, his obsidian eyes staring straight at Duncan, and said: “Great Captain… next time you take AI walking through the Spirit Realm, could you bring back some fries?”

Duncan froze: “…How did you also start with this ‘get some fries’ thing?”

Goathead’s voice almost trembled: “Please, get some fries… just so your pigeon will shut up…”

Duncan stared, dumbfounded, at the bird-and-goat pair. After a moment he roughly guessed what had happened and burst out laughing: “You finally met your natural enemy, huh?”

“I changed the subject seventy-six times! Seventy-six! I used everything I ever learned, across a thousand years of history, from poetry and songs to cooking and frying, from sacrifices to the gods to breeding sows! But every answer I got was ‘get some fries’!” Goathead sounded on the verge of breaking down. “How do you usually deal with this pigeon?”

“Simple. Just talk less to it. If you don’t talk to it, it will quiet down on its own very soon,” Duncan spread his hands. “I guess you can’t do that.”

Goathead thought for a moment, then sighed: “…Then you should still get some fries later.”

Duncan did not answer. He just beckoned to AI, and the pigeon flapped over at once to land on his shoulder. Only then did he sit in his chair and, as if casually, turn to Goathead and say: “The ruler of the city-state of Frostholm half a century ago, Queen Ray Nora of Frostholm – do you know anything about her?”

“The Frostholm queen? The one the rebels executed half a century ago?” Goathead paused in surprise. “I did hear about that. I remember we even fought a battle near there decades ago… but apart from that we did not have much contact. Why do you bring this up all of a sudden?”

Duncan looked calmly into Goathead’s eyes. He knew this “First Mate” was not lying.

Goathead truly did not know much about that Frostholm queen. The Vanished had never had any contact with that city-state.

Not only that, back then the Vanished had even clashed with that city’s guard forces – just like it had clashed with ships from other city-states and other routes.

Since, in Goathead’s memory, the Vanished had never been an ally of Frostholm, it meant the charge the rebels had put on the Frostholm queen fifty years ago was completely made up.

Of course, it might still be too early to draw that conclusion. After all, it was an old case from half a century ago, and there might be many twists buried in history. He also only had Goathead’s side of the story. This First Mate might be speaking honestly, but what he knew might not be the whole truth – yet none of that really mattered.

Duncan had no intention of overturning the Frostholm queen’s case from fifty years ago. He only wanted to know what was connected to the Vanished and to Alice.

“Did you know? Alice looks exactly like the Frostholm queen from fifty years ago. The so-called Anomaly 099 is very likely something born when the executed Frostholm queen was cursed by the Boundless Sea,” he said, idly playing with the pigeon on his shoulder. “And the main ‘crime’ that queen was executed for by the rebels back then was ‘colluding with the Vanished’.”

Goathead froze.

Duncan rarely saw this fellow stunned.

“Colluding with the Vanished?! Are the foolish humans in those city-states so bad at even betraying their own sovereign that they have to make up such a laughable excuse?” After several seconds, Goathead finally burst into loud laughter. He clearly found it absurd. “Do not blame me for laughing so loudly. Those humans are too stupid and weak. They would probably even blame the Vanished’s curse if they tripped and fell at their own door! This ‘crime’ is far too ridiculous.”

He paused, then went on: “But you said Miss Alice looks a lot like that Frostholm queen? That really is… unbelievable. If Miss Alice really did come from a transformation of that Frostholm queen… then this whole thing is full of irony.”

“Yes. If there really is a link between them, it is full of irony.” Duncan leaned back, settling into a comfortable position. “The Frostholm queen never had any contact with the Vanished while she was alive, yet the rebels forced a crime of colluding with the Vanished onto her. And now, half a century later, Alice really has become a crew member of the Vanished. The charge those rebels once forced on her turned real across time.”

“No wonder you rushed off to see Miss Alice as soon as you came back. So you found key information about Anomaly 099,” Goathead at once began to flatter him. “You truly are the great Captain Duncan. Every one of your trips brings back a harvest! That reminds me of something a mariner once said, or maybe it was a…”

Duncan immediately glared at Goathead, then casually lifted the pigeon from his shoulder and set it down in front of him: “You two can talk.”

Goathead: “…!?”

…

In the city-state of Pland, inside the central Cathedral, Vanna handed a freshly signed document to her attendant and said: “Send this document to the western Cathedral – this is the last search warrant.”

The young Guardian Warrior took the document: “Yes, Inquisitor.”

Vanna let out a small breath and worked her neck, which had gone stiff from paperwork. She felt that dealing with pens was even more tiring than swinging her greatsword against heretics.

On the edge of the desk, an oil lamp burned quietly, and thin smoke rose from a brass censer. These two things were necessary protections when handling paperwork at night – even in the holy Cathedral, proper warding was still needed.

“I hope there won’t be any more trouble tonight.”

The young Inquisitor muttered this while stretching.

Almost as if to answer her words, just as Vanna finished speaking, a slightly hurried and sharp bell suddenly rang from the main building of the Cathedral.

The Guardian Warrior, who had just picked up the document and had not yet left, stopped at once when he heard it. He looked out the window in confusion, then at his superior whose stretch was only halfway done: “The night signal bell is ringing… what’s happened?”

“It’s the bell that gathers the Listening Rite.” Vanna quickly picked out the message in the sound, and her face grew serious at once. “Seven short rings in a row, from the Nameless King’s tomb… have they found a new Anomaly or new manifestations?”