Chapter 625

Chapter 625: .

As he listened to Tyrian’s account, Duncan fell into a long silence and deep thought.

The Vanished seemed to fall silent with its captain. The low creaks from deep in the hull slowly faded. A strange, unreal spirit form feeling settled over the ship as it glided soundlessly across the sea, passing through a world that was just as still.

After a long time, Duncan slowly lowered his head and looked toward his feet.

He could not see it, but he could imagine it. Beneath the stacked decks, deeper even than the broken structures at the bottom of the hold, beyond the border of the Mortal Realm, Saslokar’s spine still lay soaked in the dark Subspace. It had taken the place of the Vanished’s original keel—that keel Duncan Abnomar had once called a “small branch”.

That “small branch” had already gone down with the original Vanished a century ago, sinking into the depths of Subspace in that ancient disaster.

“Father…” Tyrian’s uneasy voice sounded in his mind, pulling Duncan from his thoughts. “Do you have any other questions?”

“One last question,” Duncan said. “After the Vanished was finished, some of the artificers who helped build her must still be alive. I mean the elves who worked on the keel…”

“Most of them should still be alive, but it will be hard to find them in a short time,” Tyrian answered. “After the Vanished ‘incident’, everything related to that ship became taboo, including the construction project back then.

“The artificers who once worked on the Vanished switched trades or left for other city-states. Even the elves chose to hide their names and go far away. The design drawings were sealed up. All the files were treated as sealed objects and locked deep inside the Cathedral…

“People say everything connected to the Vanished was struck by the curse. Captain Duncan’s two children were like this, and so were the people who had built the Vanished and knew its secrets. None of them could escape…”

Duncan did not speak. Tyrian also trailed off and fell silent. In the awkward air that followed, Lucretia was the first to break the quiet.

“The rumors were not just rumors. You can’t blame people then for being so nervous,” the “Sea Witch” said slowly. “In fact, the dock that had once been used to build the Vanished burned down on the second day after the Subspace collapse event.

“The fire burned in a way that went against common sense. It burned everything. It turned steel and stone into ash. But it did not burn the blueprints and files related to the Vanished that were stored in the offices.

“Almost half of the people who took part in the construction suffered nightmares, strange illnesses, and hallucinations in the years that followed. Some killed themselves years later. Some vanished at sea. Some went mad. In their last lucid moments, they claimed they had heard the ‘true voice’. After that, they spent the rest of their lives in asylums. Compared to the others who met with misfortune, those who went mad almost seemed lucky.

“The elven artificers who worked on the keel were the least affected. Maybe their race protected them. They did not seem to suffer from the curse, but the fates of the others scared them badly enough. It was only natural that they hid their names and went far away…”

Duncan listened quietly to Lucretia’s memories and description. After a long while, he spoke in a tone that sounded a bit odd: “But the records of the Vanished’s construction are still kept in Pland?”

“Yes, they are still there as sealed objects. You already talked about this with me and Vanna,” Morris cut in. “As far as I know, those things will not be destroyed—and no one dares to destroy them at will. Because Subspace is involved, the act of ‘destroying’ them might itself create a link between the Vanished and the Mortal Realm…”

“I need those things,” Duncan said at once.

Morris paused for a second, then quickly understood: “No problem. I’ll contact some friends in the city-state of Pland. Those items have been high-risk sealed objects for a hundred years, but in the present situation, the authority should be willing to cooperate with your request…”

“Normal contact methods are too slow,” Duncan cut him off. “Vanna.”

Vanna’s voice sounded at once: “Yes, Captain, I’m listening.”

“You can contact the Storm Cathedral in Pland directly, can’t you?” Duncan asked very seriously. “Tell them to gather all materials related to the Vanished’s construction project back then and send them to the Grand Cathedral.”

“…All right,” Vanna said. She hesitated for two or three seconds, as if to show her loyalty to the Storm Goddess, then agreed very readily. “How are you going to collect the documents? Should I send Ai over? I can warn my colleagues there so they don’t panic…”

“No. I’ll go myself.”

For a moment, Vanna did not seem to understand: “You will go yourself?”

…

In the Lower City of Pland, inside a not-very-large antique shop, Duncan put down the newspaper in his hands. He looked once more at the warm, bright sunlight outside the window. A slight smile appeared on his face: “Drinking tea, reading the paper, and basking in the sun in an antique shop every day… It’s time for things to start moving here too.”

“…I understand. I’ll contact the city’s Grand Cathedral right away.”

Vanna’s voice sounded in his mind, then slowly faded.

Duncan carefully folded the newspaper and set it on the rack beside the counter. Then he walked over to the stairs leading to the second floor and took his coat from the hook.

The Vanished was still racing in silence across the Boundless Sea of the Spirit Realm. Lightwind Harbor had sunk into a dream from which it could not wake. In city-states across the world, more and more elves were falling into deep sleep. But in this small antique shop, the old peace and quiet still remained.

This place felt like a harbor of refuge, apart from the whole world.

But just as Duncan put on his coat and prepared to leave, the door of the antique shop was pushed open. The jingle of the bell rang out, breaking the peace of this refuge ahead of time.

Duncan looked up at the door and saw a familiar figure standing in the sunlight.

“Miss Heidi? Good morning,” he said. He recognized the visitor at the door and greeted her politely. “I’m sorry, the shop is closed today. I’m going out to take care of some business.”

“Duncan, Mister… Captain,” Heidi took two steps into the shop. She looked at the “shopkeeper” who had just put on his coat and was clearly about to leave. After hesitating for a moment, she said: “I may need your help.”

Duncan stopped and looked at her in curiosity: “Hm?”

After the incident with Taran Ael and the elven maiden who had been trapped in a dream, Heidi had already learned the truth about the Vanished. Maybe she had not yet grown used to such drastic changes. For a long time after that, she had hardly ever come to this shop. Duncan had not expected her to suddenly visit today, and even less that she would ask for help as soon as she arrived.

“It’s Sleep Sickness,” Heidi said. She still sounded hesitant. This was the first time she had come here to seek help after learning who Duncan was, and she clearly felt at a loss. “A large-scale, very sudden case of Sleep Sickness…”

“More elves have fallen asleep?” Duncan frowned. “That is within expectations. The Nameless One’s dream went through a violent change at dawn today. Its influence is growing stronger. But don’t worry. I’m going out for this very matter.”

“It’s not only that more elves are falling asleep,” Heidi said quickly. “The ‘symptoms’ this time are also a bit strange. The city’s central medical facilities have just taken in a group of patients. I think it is necessary to ask you to look at them… if you have time…”

The more she spoke, the less confident she sounded. Duncan did not know what she had been imagining in the few moments since she entered, but in the end she suddenly blurted out: “To ask for your help, do we need some kind of sacrificial victims?”

Duncan had been thinking about how long it would take for the Grand Cathedral to prepare the things he wanted. Hearing Heidi’s question, he was taken aback: “…Sacrificial victims?”

Heidi thought for a moment, her face filled with embarrassment: “When I wrote to my father, I didn’t dare ask too many details about you. He only said that life on the Vanished was unbelievable and that your attitude toward mortals was friendly. But he didn’t tell me your rules of action or mention what ritual and what sacrificial victims are needed when we ask you for help…”

“Stop, I understand,” Duncan said at once, cutting her off. He looked at the miss psychiatrist with a very strange expression. After a long moment, he finally said: “I don’t want sacrificial victims, and I don’t need any bloody or creepy sacrificial rituals. The Vanished Fleet is a friendly group whose members help each other and care about the public good of the city-states. Didn’t Morris or Vanna ever tell you that?”

Heidi: “…?”

One look at her face told Duncan everything.

He waved his hand and casually took a bronze figurine from the nearby shelf.

An “antique” from the age of the dark city-states. A royal emblem of the old Isom dynasty. Fresh from the factory last week.

“Original price, eight hundred sola. Discount price, twelve. You can buy it at the original price, and that will count as my fee for helping this once. If you don’t mind, let’s go. The Grand Cathedral won’t be able to get what I want ready right away anyway. I can go with you first and see how those ‘patients’ are doing.”

…

“You are sure you want to use these things to build the ‘channel’ for Psychic Resonance?” Morris stared, wide-eyed, at Vanna as she worked busily in the kitchen. At last he could not help speaking up.

Vanna paused for a moment and looked up at the old mister beside her: “Is there a problem?”

“…I think this is very lacking in rigor,” Morris said. His face was tight as he did his best to look serious. “When you perform a sacred ritual to connect with the city-state’s Grand Cathedral, you should at least prepare some proper spell materials…”

Vanna stayed silent for a moment, then lowered her head to look at what she had found in this “witch manor”.

“Holy fire, holy oil, holy spices, and devout benediction. All four elements are here.”

Morris’s eyes flew wide open: “It doesn’t work just because you put the word ‘holy’ in front! You can’t fry some scallions in the kitchen and expect the Goddess to send down her power!”

Vanna: “…”