Listening to Tirian’s narration, Duncan fell into a long silence and contemplation.
The Holoss seed to fall silent along with its captain as the deep creaking sounds from within the cabin gradually subsided, a half-real, half-illusory sense of a spiritual body enveloping the ship as it silently glided over the ocean, moving through an equally silent world.
After a long while, Duncan slowly lowered his head to look at his feet.
He couldn’t see, but he could imagine—beneath the layers of decks, deeper than the fragnted structures of the bilge, beyond the borders of reality, Saslouka’s spine was still subrged in the dark Subspace, replacing the original keel of Holoss—the keel Duncan Ebnomal referred to as "the little twig."
That "little twig" had sunk into the depths of Subspace along with the original Holoss during the disaster a century ago.
"Father..." Tirian’s slightly anxious voice rose from the depths of his mind, interrupting Duncan’s thoughts, "Do you have any more questions?"
"The final question," said Duncan, "after the completion of Holoss, there must still be craftsn who had stayed in the world of the living, I an those Elves who were responsible for processing the keel..."
"Most of them should still be alive, but it will be difficult to find them in the short term," answered Tirian, "after sothing went wrong with Holoss, everything related to that ship beca taboo, including the original construction project.
"The craftsn who had participated in the construction of Holoss changed their professions or moved to other City-States one after another, even the Elves chose to conceal their identities and flee elsewhere, the blueprints were sealed off, and along with all records, they were treated as ’sealed items’ and hidden deep within the cathedral...
"People say that everything related to Holoss was cursed, just as it had been for the captain’s children of Duncan, those who built Holoss, and knew its secrets could not escape either..."
Duncan did not speak for a mont, and as Tirian also fell silent, the atmosphere suddenly beca sowhat awkward until Lucrecia’s voice was the first to break the stillness.
"Rumors aren’t just rumors, you can’t bla people for being so nervous at the ti," said the "witch of the sea" slowly, "in fact, the shipyard used to build Holoss encountered a fire the day after the Subspace collapse incident.
"The fire burned everything in a way that defied normality, turning steel and stone to ashes, yet it didn’t ignite the docunts and blueprints related to Holoss that were stored in the office.
"About half of the participants involved in the construction suffered nightmares, mysterious diseases, and hallucinations in the following years, so committed suicide years later, so mysteriously disappeared at sea, and others went mad, declaring in their final lucid stages that they had heard ’the true voice’, and then spent the rest of their lives in psychiatric hospitals—compared to others who t with misfortune, these mad individuals were ironically the lucky ones.
"The Elven craftsn responsible for processing the keel were the least affected group, perhaps their racial traits protected them, they appeared unaffected by the curse, but the experiences of others were frightening enough to justify their anonymity and fleeing far away..."
Duncan quietly listened to Lucrecia’s recollections and descriptions, and after a long ti, he finally spoke, his tone slightly strange, "But are the construction records of Holoss still kept in Plunder?"
"Yes, they are still there, as ’sealed items’. You discussed this with and Fenna last ti," Maurice’s voice interjected, "From what I understand, these things are not to be destroyed—nor dare to be destroyed lightly, as involving the Subspace, the act of ’destruction’ itself might also cause Holoss and the real world to establish contact..."
"I need those docunts," Duncan imdiately said.
Maurice was taken aback, but quickly recovered: "No problem, I’ll contact friends in the Plunder City-State right away. Although those docunts have been high-risk sealed items for the past century, given the current situation, the authorities should be willing to accommodate your request..."
"Ordinary ans of contact are too slow," Duncan interrupted Maurice, "Fenna."
"Yes, Captain, I’m listening," Fenna’s voice imdiately responded.
"You can directly contact the Storm Cathedral in Plunder, right?" Duncan asked sternly, "Notify them to prepare all materials related to the construction project of Holoss and deliver them to the cathedral."
"...Okay," Fenna hesitated for two or three seconds, showing her loyalty to the Storm Goddess, then very promptly agreed, "How do you plan to retrieve the docunts? Shall I send Ai Yi over? I’ll let our colleagues there know ahead of ti to avoid any surprises..."
"No, I’ll go myself."
Fenna seed montarily at a loss: "You’re going yourself?"
...
In the Lower City District of Plunder, within a modestly-sized antique shop, Duncan set aside the newspaper he was holding and glanced again at the warm, bright sunlight outside the window, a slight smile appearing on his face: "Spending days in the antique shop, sipping tea, reading the newspaper, basking in the sun... It’s ti for so action here too."
"...I understand, I’ll contact the City-State Cathedral right now."
Fenna’s voice echoed in his mind, then gradually faded away.
Duncan carefully folded the newspaper and placed it on a rack next to the counter before rising and heading to the stairs that led to the second floor, retrieving his coat from the hook.
The Holoss was still silently sailing through the Spirit Realm’s Endless Sea. Light Breeze Harbor had sunk into an unawakening illusion, and in City-States around the world, more and more elves were falling into slumber. Yet, in this small antique shop, the sa peace and tranquility of past days were maintained.
It seed like a harbor of refuge independent of the rest of the world.
But just as Duncan put on his coat and was about to leave, the antique shop’s door suddenly burst open, and the jingling of bells prematurely shattered the haven’s tranquility.
Duncan looked up towards the entrance, seeing a familiar figure standing in the sunlight.
"Miss Heidi? Good morning," he recognized the visitor at the door and greeted her politely, "Sorry, but the shop’s closed for the day, I need to run so errands."
"Mr. Duncan... captain," Heidi stepped two paces into the shop, her eyes on the "store manager" who had just donned his coat and clearly prepared to leave, hesitating before speaking, "I might need your help."
Duncan paused, looking at her curiously, "Hmm?"
After the incident involving Taran El and the elven girl trapped in the Dreamscape, Heidi had learned the true nature of Holoss. Maybe because she was not quite adapted to this dramatic change, she had not visited the shop for a while, but it was unexpected that today she showed up suddenly asking for help.
"It’s the sleep illness," Heidi appeared still hesitant, this being her first request for help here knowing Duncan’s identity, seemingly at a loss, "It’s widespread, a sudden outbreak of the sleep illness..."
"More elves have fallen asleep?" Duncan frowned, "That is to be expected—The Dream of the Naless underwent drastic changes this morning, its influence is growing. But do not worry, I was about to leave to deal with this exact issue."
"It’s not just more elves falling asleep," Heidi quickly added, "The symptoms this ti are sowhat unusual. The city’s central dical facility just admitted a wave of ’patients’, and I think it’s necessary for you to look into it... if you have the ti..."
The more she spoke, the less confident she sounded, and after a mont’s thought, she suddenly blurted out, "Is so kind of offering needed when seeking your help?"
Duncan, who had been pondering how long it would take to prepare after receiving Fenna’s ssage from the Storm Cathedral, was caught off guard by Heidi’s question. "...Offering?"
Heidi thought for a mont, her face marked with embarrassnt, "When I communicated with my father, I didn’t dare ask in detail about matters concerning you. He only said life on Holoss was incredible and your attitude towards mortals kind, but he never ntioned your thod of operation or the rituals and offerings needed when seeking your help..."
"Stop, I understand," Duncan interrupted her quickly, giving the spiritual healthcare professional a weird look before finally saying, "I don’t need offerings, nor do I require any bloody, bizarre sacrificial rituals—Didn’t Morris or Fenna tell you that the Exiled Fleet is a community with a friendly atmosphere, deeply committed to urban philanthropy?"
Heidi: "...?"
Duncan knew the misunderstanding imdiately from her expression.
He waved his hand, casually grabbing a small bronze statue from a nearby shelf.
Antique from the era of dark City-States, a royal symbol of the old Isom dynasty, brand new and manufactured just last week.
"Originally priced at eight hundred sora, after discount twelve, buy it at the original price as paynt for my assistance—If that’s fine, let’s set off. The Cathedral won’t be ready with what I need for a while, so I can accompany you to see these ’patients’ first."
...
"Are you sure you want to use these things to construct the ’channel’ for Psychic Resonance?" Morris stared at Fenna bustling in the kitchen, unable to hold back any longer.
Fenna paused her preparations, looking up at the old man beside her, "Is there a problem?"
"...I believe this lacks rigor," Morris strained, trying to appear more serious, "For a sacred ritual, connecting with the Storm Cathedral, you should at least prepare so proper spell materials..."
Fenna was silent for a mont, looking down at what she could find in this "witch’s abode."
"Sacred fla, sacred grease, sacred spices, accompanied by devout prayer, all four elents are ready."
Morris’s eyes bulged in disbelief, "Just because you put ’sacred’ in front of it doesn’t make it work—you can’t just chop onions in the kitchen and expect the goddess to grant her power!"
Fenna: "..."
(Trip to Guangzhou for work, single updates for the next few days and then back to three updates every two days after returning.)
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