Chapter 628

Chapter 628: The curse of the Lost Ones

A century ago, in the age of sailing warships, the shipbuilding artificers of every city-state followed one rule when they built a ship – while they worked the keel, they had to cut a block of wood from the original timber.

They would treat this block the same way they treated the keel itself: charring it, soaking it in chemicals, oiling it, then placing it on the slipway beside the unfinished ship. When the ship was finally completed, this keel timber block would be left behind in the shipyard, kept on land forever.

Usually, shipowners would pay an extra fee so the priests of the city could perform regular divine blessing rituals over the block. Sometimes they would even send it to the Cathedral and ask the Church to store and watch over it there.

At first, keeping this keel sample was part of quality control. Shipowners used it to test whether the keel’s material and preliminary treatment met the technical standards of a ship. Later, it turned into a symbol of praying for safety.

People believed that a ship had a soul, and that the keel left on land would bring good luck to the vessel at sea. It was like a lighthouse, letting lost ships find the route back to shore. The blessings that clerics laid upon the keel timber block could also fall upon the ship on its voyage. And if disaster truly struck, that keel left on shore would become a little ferryboat in the world of the dead, carrying the sailors’ souls back home.

In the past, once a ship was confirmed lost, the priests of the God of Death would even take out the keel timber block left on land and hold a “funeral” for it. The families of the lost crew members would see that block off as if it were the body of their loved ones, and watch as it was sent into the furnace.

Agatha had once, out of curiosity, described in great detail to Duncan what those death priests’ farewell ceremonies for a keel sample had been like a hundred years ago.

In fact, this custom still survived in a weakened form even now. With the progress of the age, people no longer always chose to keep a ship’s keel sample. Many times, younger captains preferred to keep a section of pipe cut off during the installation of the steam core, storing it either in the shipyard or at the Cathedral.

Duncan quietly let his gaze rest on the block of wood inside the chest.

The Vanished was a ship built a hundred years ago. No matter how special it was now, back when it lay in the shipyard, it had been built under the same rules and habits as any ordinary vessel.

The artificers of that time had kept its keel sample.

Not the Elder Gods spine it carried now, but its original keel – that “little twig” Duncan Abnomar had found in the mist near the border.

Duncan reached out and carefully picked up the plain-looking piece of wood.

He suddenly widened his eyes a little: “No weight?!”

The “weight” that came from the keel sample shocked him. It was too light… so light that the word “light” was no longer enough. Just as he had blurted out, it felt like it had no weight at all, lighter than a speck of dust in his hand.

Yet Duncan clearly saw the deep dent pressed into the black silk lining inside the chest where the block had rested. That mark had been made by the wood’s weight.

“Yes, no weight – but only when someone holds it,” Bishop Valentine’s voice came from beside him. “When we put it on the scale, its weight is 0.7 kilograms. When a living person holds it, its weight is 0 milligrams. But it was not like this at first. According to the records, when it was just cut from the keel timber, it was no different from ordinary wood – I mean in terms of weight.”

Duncan frowned. He already had an answer in his heart, but he still could not help asking: “When did the change happen?”

“On the day the Vanished fell into Subspace,” Valentine answered. “Many things happened that day. Most of them were only investigated and confirmed after people slowly recovered from the chaos. Besides the keel sample losing its weight in the hands of the living, we also found that, other than this sample, every other piece of wood cut from the Vanished’s keel timber had vanished.”

The old bishop paused, then explained further: “The original timber you brought to Pland back then was enormous. Even after it was worked into a keel, the leftover cuts were still enough for many other uses. The records say that part of the leftovers was made into various fittings on the Vanished. The rest you left in the shipyard’s warehouse.

“Some years later, you took part of that stock again to make the figureheads and steering wheels of the Sea Mist and the Radiant Star. The final leftovers were too poor to use and stayed in the warehouse, until… the day of the accident.”

As he spoke, the old man stepped forward and pointed at the large chest in front of Duncan.

“The related records about that are also inside.”

“The Sea Mist and the Radiant Star were built in Pland too? And they used the Vanished’s leftover keel wood? Are their construction records still around?”

“Sadly, the records for those two ships were turned to ash in the great fire at the shipyard that year, together with their keel samples,” Valentine shook his head. “People say that was when the two ships first fell under the curse. The storm the Vanished stirred up in Subspace destroyed the ‘anchors’ those two ships had left on land, and from that moment on, they slowly turned into what they are today.”

At this point, the old bishop suddenly seemed to realize that his words might be a bit off. He hurriedly coughed twice: “Ahem, I hope you don’t mind. These are all just…”

“It’s fine. You’re only stating things that really happened – things I asked you about,” Duncan said, shaking his head. “And my relationship with the children is very good now. That is all in the past.”

As Duncan spoke, he lowered his eyes again to the weightless keel sample in his hand.

Many things finally became clear today.

Everything that had wound around and around, that had once seemed like a chaotic tangle, was in fact just a single loop of thread. And now, the end of that thread had finally fallen into his hand.

“If you still want to know more about what happened back then, I can try to find the elven artificers who worked on the Vanished,” Valentine said carefully, watching Duncan’s expression. “But that may not be easy. After all… things are not going well among the elves right now.”

“I know. I came here to solve that,” Duncan let out a light breath and set his thoughts aside for the moment. He nodded to Valentine. “This is enough. I have what I wanted. I will be taking this chest with me.”

“Of course,” Valentine nodded at once. “In fact… it is better if you take it.”

Duncan naturally knew why Valentine said that. He only smiled, then carefully put the block of wood back into the chest and closed the lid.

He was just about to summon Ai to send the chest back to the Vanished when he noticed a hesitant look on Valentine’s face.

“Is there something else?”

“Uh…” Valentine tensed up so visibly that the change could be seen with the naked eye. He hesitated for several seconds before he finally spoke: “Actually, I have been thinking about one question since just now, but I was afraid you might find it offensive…”

“Say it.”

“…Vanna hasn’t caused any trouble on your ship, has she?”

“Trouble? Why would you say that?” Duncan felt confused. “She is very mature and steady. She is easy to have on board. How could she cause trouble?”

Valentine stared at him for a moment before he finally squeezed out a line: “She didn’t break anything? She is blunt, hard to get along with, very strong, and she had few friends in the city…”

Duncan did not answer right away. He first thought of Nina, who was one surprise and explosion after another. Then he thought of Shirley, who could turn the whole ship upside down over a few test papers, and of Alice, who would stew herself into a soup every now and then. He also thought of that whole bunch of pots, pans, mops, buckets, and even gunpowder cannons on the ship that clanged, chattered, and made a racket day and night…

“She is doing very well,” Duncan said very seriously to the old bishop. “She is already one of the quiet ones on the ship. She only makes a bit of noise when she runs and trains on the deck in the morning…”

Valentine: “…?”

The old bishop still could not imagine what Vanna’s life on the Vanished actually looked like.

But Duncan did not plan to explain further. He quickly summoned Ai, had her teleport the large wooden chest straight to the faraway Vanished, then said goodbye to the old bishop and strode out of the Grand Cathedral.

Inside the brightly lit inner chapel, Valentine stood dazed in front of the holy statue of the storm Goddess. In a blur, he suddenly felt that everything that had happened this morning was unreal.

This holy place had really received a shadow from Subspace – and now that shadow had calmly left.

It felt like a dream.

“…Vanna.”

“I’m here.” The psychic channel was still open, and Vanna’s voice sounded in Valentine’s ear. “Has the captain left?”

“…He just left,” Valentine said.

Perhaps the hesitation and strange mood in the old bishop’s voice was too obvious, because Vanna quickly sensed something was off: “What’s wrong? Did something go badly?”

“That’s not it. I just feel a bit strange…” Valentine said slowly. “Tell me… does this count as the Grand Cathedral being invaded by Subspace?”

Vanna clearly had not expected the old bishop to say something like that. She fell silent for several seconds before she answered, a little unsure: “I… don’t know either.”

Valentine turned his head and glanced at the statue of Gamona standing quietly in the candlelight. “The Goddess does not seem displeased.”

“I don’t think the Goddess would be,” Vanna said with some certainty. “After all, the captain only came over for a visit. If that really counts as an invasion, then the death Grand Cathedral in Frostholm gets invaded by Subspace every Friday… and nothing has happened over there.”

Valentine: “…?”