.
Duncan examined Goathead, which lay motionless within the wooden box, resembling a finely crafted wood sculpture under his intense scrutiny.
He was not surprised by this discovery. Ever since Alice had carelessly brought the sealed, impregnable wooden box onto the deck, Duncan had strongly suspected that it contained what he had been looking for.
With a touch of irony, he reflected that Alice’s beauty seed to be balanced by her other qualities, like her physical strength, unwavering optimism, or incredible luck.
“Ah, Mr. Goathead!” Alice exclaid, peering into the box and finally realizing what she had unwittingly discovered. Her eyes widened in astonishnt. “Is this the sa one that was involved with the cultists? It looks exactly like Mr. Goathead from the Vanished!”
Lost in thought, Duncan did not reply. Instead, he examined the object he referred to as the “Skull of Dreams.”
Next to him, Lucretia gently prodded Goathead with her delicate “conductor’s baton,” her expression one of confusion. “It shows no reaction… It doesn’t seem ‘alive,’ nor does it emit any unusual energy.”
“It’s just like an ordinary piece of wood,” Duncan agreed, lifting the lightweight wooden goat head from the box and assessing its weight. “I didn’t expect it to be this light.”
“Have you never removed Goathead from its stand on the Vanished?” asked Lucretia, surprised. “It always seed to just sit on the table…”
“They are one and the sa; Goathead is an integral part of the Vanished. Its head can swivel, but it’s not detachable,” Duncan clarified.
Lucretia mulled over this information. Overhearing Duncan, Alice clapped her hands in sudden realization. “That makes sense now!”
“What does?” Duncan looked at her, puzzled.
“I couldn’t figure out why the first mate’s head was so hard to remove from the table. It grumbled at , though I can’t rember what it said…”
Duncan was astonished. “Why were you trying to remove the first mate’s head from the table?”
“I wanted to clean the table,” Alice explained nonchalantly, “and thought about washing him in the sink… but he wouldn’t co off.”
Duncan was speechless, his imagination unable to fathom such an odd scenario. He was relieved the puppet wasn’t too sturdy. Had Vanna tried, Saslokha might have t his end for the third ti…
Noticing the quick changes in her father’s expressions, Lucretia voiced her concern. “What’s bothering you?”
“I just realized I never told the others that Goathead is permanently affixed to the table and can’t be removed.”
“Miss Vanna is sensible; she wouldn’t impulsively enter your captain’s quarters,” Lucretia responded.
Duncan looked confused. “Why would you think of Vanna first?”
Lucretia paused briefly, then looked at Duncan, puzzled. “Who else were you thinking of?”
As the conversation took an increasingly bizarre turn, Duncan decided to focus back on the curious object in his hand, the “Skull of Dreams.”
“This must be another fragnt of Saslokha; the cultists’ ticulous sealing of it clearly indicates so. However, it’s important to note that not all ‘Goatheads’ possess a fully developed consciousness.”
Reflecting on this, Duncan carefully placed the dark, wooden goat head back into its box, securing the lid with a click.
“I should return this to the Vanished to see the effect of its reunion with the ship’s Goathead,” Duncan declared, outlining his next steps.
“Are we returning to the ship already?” Alice asked, her curiosity renewed as she looked toward the distant horizon. “I thought we were going to track that ship to the ‘Mother Port.'”
“We’re still quite a ways from the border. Even at full speed, it would take about a week for this ship to reach the ‘Veil.’ We don’t need to linger on this nearly wrecked ‘ghost ship’ any longer,” Lucretia explained.
“Exactly,” Duncan agreed. “This gives us ti to transport the survivors from the prison to the city-state. We should also contact the Four Divine Churches. They might be interested in the discovery of a cult hideout hidden within the border mists. Plus, there’s the matter of this ‘Goathead’ in the box. We have plenty to do.”
“I’ll stay behind and handle the aftermath,” Lucretia offered. “I’m more experienced with this type of clean up.”
Duncan simply nodded, acknowledging her offer without further comnt.
Aware of Lucretia’s extensive experience, Duncan knew her capabilities well. As a “witch” who had road the Boundless Seas for a century, her encounters with devastated city-states, stranded exploration crews, cursed vessels, and victims of cult kidnappings and sacrifices had vastly shaped her expertise.
Lucretia was skilled in supporting survivors teetering on the brink of ntal and physical collapse.
“I’ll head back to the Vanished with Alice,” Duncan said, giving Lucretia a nod before tapping the ship’s railing. “This vessel will return to its ho port on its own. Once you’re done here, leave the ‘Artificial Beacon’ on board. That way, I can keep an eye on its status and return when necessary.”
Lucretia acknowledged his plan with a nod.
Suddenly, the sound of flas crackling filled the air, and Lucretia looked up to see a swirling portal of fire materializing on the deck.
Alice, clutching the large wooden box and her various other collected items, stepped through the fiery portal first. Duncan followed, waving from the other side. His figure, enveloped in ghostly flas, disappeared into the fiery gateway in a mont.
Where Duncan had previously stood, a tiny ember remained, glowing softly. It slowly diminished in size and brightness, eventually becoming a palm-sized magical artifact that gently landed on the deck.
This was the “Artificial Beacon,” a creation of the “Sea Witch.”
Lucretia moved forward, her steps deliberate, and picked up the beacon from the wooden planks.
The beacon was a quaint wooden figurine skillfully carved from a piece of the ‘Vanished’s hull. Inside, a strand of Duncan’s hair was intricately woven, symbolizing a deep connection. The figurine, depicting Duncan in an old captain’s uniform with a somber hat and a ticulously crafted beard, captured his essence strikingly despite its exaggerated features.
Lucretia had spent an entire night crafting this figurine. For her, a witch adept at creating an entire “Servant Legion,” this task was relatively simple. This remarkable magical item was capable of containing a fragnt of her father’s power. Although its capacity was limited, it was sufficient to allow her father to open a portal of flas near the beacon without needing to create additional “avatars.”
Duncan had expressed his reluctance to use more bodies to create avatars, a sentint Lucretia appreciated. She was more than willing to use her magical prowess to help her father circumvent these limitations.
As she stood on the deck, the flas from the portal gradually vanished.
Clutching the Duncan-inspired figurine, Lucretia examined it under the sunlight, rotating it to view every angle. She cast a quick, surreptitious glance around, confirming they were alone.
The “Witch” then cautiously approached a secluded corner of the deck. There, she hesitated briefly before playfully poking the figurine’s head with her finger.
The figurine, however, showed no reaction.
She then prodded its beard and the exaggerated captain’s hat, and soon, a genuine laugh erupted from her, a rare expression of joy on her face.
Suddenly, to her surprise, the figurine lifted its head and spoke in a resigned tone, “Is this fun for you?”
Lucretia was montarily speechless, too shocked to show a proper reaction.
Just then, Rabbi, her assistant, erged from below deck, only to be greeted by a scream unlike any it had ever heard before, resonating across the deck.
…
Back on the ‘Vanished,’ the tranquility was interrupted by the clattering of tal.
Duncan looked helplessly at Alice, who was proudly showcasing her collection of “spoils of war” on the deck. “Hand the box, then you can take your ‘spoils’ to the kitchen first.”
“Oh!” Alice responded with evident cheer. She promptly handed over the wooden box containing the “Skull of Dreams” to Duncan and then proceeded to the kitchen, her path marked by a cacophony of clanking noises.
Holding the wooden box containing the “Skull of Dreams,” Duncan watched Alice’s spirited exit with a sense of amusent. He was attuned to the signals emanating from the Artificial Beacon located in so distant and uncharted part of the sea.
Shaking his head slightly, he chuckled to himself, “Well, as long as she’s happy.”
He then made his way towards the stern deck, heading for the captain’s quarters. Upon opening the door, he imdiately found himself under the intense scrutiny of Goathead.
It almost appeared as if Goathead had anticipated his arrival, its gaze shifting to the door just before he opened it. The deep, dark obsidian eyes of the “First Mate” held an unfathomable depth. In a rare departure from its norm, Goathead, usually prone to launching into exasperating monologues, remained silent. Its attention was unwaveringly fixed on the wooden box in Duncan’s hands, suggesting it was already aware of its contents.
“It seems you’ve sensed it,” Duncan remarked, moving closer to the navigation table. He carefully set the large wooden box on the table and addressed the forr god, “I’ve brought you a gift.”
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