While Duncan and Alice journeyed to the cetery, their comrades, Morris and Vanna, were also busy. They were on a mission assigned by Duncan to the “Citizens’ Assistance Center,” a key establishnt in the southern part of the city’s upscale district. Their task was challenging: to secure a reliable and lawful residence in the cold city-state of Frost and, if possible, establish one or two public personas.
This mission was crucial because their operations in this city-state might be prolonged, and living covertly like cult mbers was not an option. They needed to blend in, to live like ordinary citizens.
With the unreliability of the informants Tyrian had left behind, Morris decided to find an alternative solution.
The Citizens’ Assistance Center of Frost was a grand, dod building with two extended wings surrounding the main structure. It was much more than just a support center for locals; it also served as a welco facility for newcors, offering various third-party services like house rental, property sales registration, issuing temporary passes, and hiring short-term dostic helpers such as maids, gardeners, and laundry workers. The extensive wings housed nurous registration counters and offices, while the central do enclosed a lively, bustling lobby, a stark contrast to their previous location in Pland.
As they entered the expansive dod space, they were greeted by a comforting warmth. Frost’s efficient high-pressure heating system effectively warded off the winter chill. Bright electric lights hung from the high do, bathing the entire interior in an inviting glow.
Despite the center having recently opened its doors, it was already filled with people seeking short-term employnt or registering for property rentals and sales. Amid the clamor of the crowd and the chanical sounds of air transport pipes, Vanna seed to struggle with adjusting to this new environnt. She moved cautiously among the masses, muttering to Morris, “Back in Pland, they didn’t mix human resources and housing services in the sa building.”
Morris replied with a hint of resignation, “Consider the cost of heating such a vast building and the ti and effort needed to retrofit a heat exchange station. Frost inherited much of its basic municipal infrastructure from the era of the Frost Queen. But those halcyon days are long gone. Following the rebellion, the city regained barely 70-80% of its forr vitality, primarily due to the mining industry. Rebuilding the complex network of underground pipelines and steam power systems left by the Queen is a formidable task.”
Vanna’s eyes widened in surprise, “So they’ll continue to make do with these antiquated, half-century-old facilities?”
“What alternatives are there?” Morris sighed. “We are dealing with a two-pronged crisis. The city’s decline is one aspect. The other is the population pressure, compounded by the loss of habitable space due to the initial landslide. Navigating through the narrow, crowded spaces of these antiquated facilities may indeed be difficult. However, they just about et the requirents. As long as they are adequate, they will continue to be used. This challenge is not exclusive to Frost but is faced by many industrial city-states. In contrast, thriving cities like Pland are few and far between.”
Vanna fell into an uncomfortable silence. Such matters were beyond her usual scope.
anwhile, Morris had located the transient population registration counter on the elaborate guidance map hanging above the hall. Leading the taller Vanna through the crowd, they finally reached a relatively serene counter.
The long wooden counter was set against a wall, divided into several sections by tallic barriers. Each section housed a staff mber in a grey-blue uniform, their expressions as stern and immovable as the iron fences beside them, indicating their intent to maintain this deanor until their shift’s end.
“We’re here for a residence permit and a short-term rental property,” Morris addressed a sallow-faced, middle-aged clerk in one of the sections, lowering himself onto a creaky iron chair. “We arrived just today.”
“Which pier did you dock at?” The clerk asked, barely lifting his lids to look at the older man across from him. He paused montarily as he noticed the nearly six-foot-tall woman standing behind the old man. Regaining his official tone, he continued, “Kindly provide your pier docuntation and boarding papers.”
Vanna furrowed her brow, looking down at Morris for a reaction.
Yet Morris remained undisturbed, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness, “They seem to have been misplaced. They might have been lost during our disembarknt at the pier, and our ship has already sailed.”
The clerk abruptly stopped his work, raising his head to glare at Morris. His stoic expression now showed a hint of annoyance, “That is unacceptable. You must have the docunts. Return to the pier and apply for new ones.”
“But I do have other forms of identification,” Morris calmly responded as he fished in his pocket. He produced a folded docunt and a small booklet with a dark red cover, “These should be sufficient for legal identity verification.”
The clerk made a dismissive gesture with his hand, “Without the pier docuntation, nothing else is…” His sentence trailed off as he spotted the amulet on the small book. He proceeded to unfold the docunt, scanning its contents.
His previously stoic expression changed drastically at what he saw.
“A passage permit, sanctioned by the Academy of Truth and the Boundless Sea Navigation Council, entitles the bearer to visit and stay in all city-states under the jurisdiction of the true gods. During their stay, the local city-state university affiliated with the Academy of Truth acts as the guarantor,” Morris explained, pointing to the red booklet. “These are my credentials — a dual degree in academia and theology from the Academy of Truth, with the academic rank of professor.”
The middle-aged clerk, with his sallow complexion, was left montarily stunned. He slowly raised his gaze towards Morris, appearing sowhat flustered. “Uh… good morning, Professor Morris… It’s an honor to et you. Of course, your identity is entirely… legal…”
A sense of relief washed over Morris’s face.
However, the clerk hesitated, seemingly wrestling with a quandary, then continued in a stiffened tone, “But… I must confirm the ship you traveled on. It’s… a requirent.”
At this, the recently relaxed expression on Morris’s face was replaced with an awkward one while Vanna, standing next to him, surreptitiously touched her nose and averted her gaze.
Morris exhaled a sigh, his gaze fixed on the nervous yet resolute clerk before him.
“You’re already aware of the ship I arrived on,” he said with certain conviction in his eyes. “Please, proceed with issuing the permit.”
The clerk wavered montarily, a flicker of confusion passing over his eyes. Then he nodded, busying himself with the punch machine before him, and dropped the processed card into a pressure pipeline container adjacent to the counter.
A few monts later, the sound of hissing and clicking echoed from the pipeline, and a card returned to the counter from an approval office deep within the building.
The clerk then inserted the punched card into a compact reading machine, confirming the receipt number and security code. Without lifting his gaze, he began to fill out the requisite details on the proof docunt. “This is only a proof docunt. You need to take this to window A-12 in the west wing. There, you’ll find suitable short-term rental accommodations,” he instructed.
“Thank you,” Morris accepted the completed docunt, paused, and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
With that, he and Vanna promptly departed from the counter, making their way towards the next window.
“This is the first ti I’ve had to resort to sothing like this,” Morris confessed in a hushed tone once they had put so distance between themselves and the counter. “I had intended to handle this through the usual docunt procedure…”
“We ca aboard a phantom ship that doesn’t belong to this realm, rember? The usual procedure would never suffice for such a circumstance,” Vanna retorted in a whisper, a hint of amusent in her voice. “Unusual situations necessitate unusual thods.”
“…What do you think are the odds that Mr. Duncan will manage to secure a legitimate ship registration certificate for the Vanished?”
“And what’s your take on that?”
“…Understood,” Morris sighed, his gaze focused on the proof docunt in his hand. “We must keep this from Heidi. Should we encounter a similar situation in the future, I’d prefer to craft a counterfeit ship ticket first.”
Vanna glanced at Morris, a half-smile playing on her lips as he heaved a sigh. This was the first ti she had witnessed such a worried expression on the face of the typically strict and rule-abiding scholar. The sight was… rather intriguing.
…
anwhile, Agatha, who had just completed her on-site investigation and had yet to return to the cathedral, received an urgent briefing from her team stationed at Cetery No. 3.
Inside her steam-powered car, Agatha stared at the letter that had just been delivered to her, her eyes gradually clouding over with surprise — an anonymous tip-off from the elusive visitor.
The letter had arrived at the cetery just after she had departed.
Was it a case of bad luck that she missed the visitor, or was it the perplexing behavior of the “visitor” that was more concerning?
She tucked the letter away and quickly began to think, only to find a wave of unease washing over herself at the urgent situation.
“Change course, head towards the east port.”
The team mber driving the car looked taken aback, “Aren’t we headed to the cathedral first?”
“The plan has changed. We’re going to the east port first,” Agatha commanded with conviction. “I have a bad feeling… sothing might attempt to land, taking advantage of the current state of affairs.”
The driver was puzzled but instinctively obeyed the order.
The sleek black steam car decelerated at the next intersection, made a swift turn, and then accelerated towards the port area in the eastern part of the city-state.
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