Deep Sea Embers

Chapter 495: The Atmosphere of the Vanished

Positioned strategically on one side of the hefty wooden table, Lawrence found himself cautiously observing the nuances of everyone in attendance. Simultaneously, he maintained an acute control over his own expressions and muscular movements to prevent revealing any internal emotions. During of which, he intends to seamlessly blend into this peculiar assembly without standing out as a newcomer or foreign element.

A torrent of tales about fabled detectives and daring voyagers surged within the depths of the old sailor’s mind. Yet, just as quickly as they had arrived, they retreated, like waves of the ocean that crash against the shore only to roll back, abandoning the sand in their wake. This left him in a disarray of disconnected thoughts, absent of any valuable or direct references for his current predicament.

After a period of luxuriating in the labyrinth of his own imagination, he summoned the necessary courage and leaned towards Agatha, the individual nearest to him. “Do you have any inkling as to when Captain Duncan might make his appearance?” he inquired in a soft whisper.

“I’m unsure,” Agatha responded, her voice barely more than a murmur. “He’s waiting until everyone has convened, he said. We just have to be patient.”

“Are there any particular protocols or procedures I should be aware of?” Lawrence pressed on, his voice still a secretive whisper. “This is my first time participating in such a gathering…”

“Coincidentally, it’s my first time as well,” Agatha confessed, folding her arms over her chest in a gesture that suggested silent prayer. She mirrored Lawrence’s vigilant survey of the cabin.

Although the faces encircling the table were all recognizable to her, it was her maiden visit to this particular vessel. “But I wouldn’t worry too much. We’ve had dealings back in the city-state, and everyone has proven to be quite amicable.”

Lawrence acknowledged her advice with a nod but found his nerves preventing him from settling into a state of calm. He couldn’t resist stealing a glance at Vanna, who was situated outside their tight-knit cluster. A familiar figure, Vanna was a renowned inquisitor hailing from Pland. “Your Honor,” he began, his voice tentative. “It’s my first time attending such an assembly. If I inadvertently commit any faux pas later, I’d greatly appreciate your assistance…”

Before Lawrence could complete his request, Vanna hadn’t even been afforded the opportunity to respond when Shirley, who was perched opposite them at the table, abruptly interjected. “What? You expect her to cover for your lack of manners? Let me tell you, old man, her fits of rage are much more explosive than yours. Remember that time she performed the jumping chop…”

Vanna interrupted Shirley’s boisterous monologue with a well-timed cough.

Meanwhile, as the exchange momentarily derailed Lawrence, Nina, seated directly across him, set down her book. She glanced around the room and murmured, “I’m famished. When is the meal being served?”

Shirley replied with a dismissive shake of her head. “The meal won’t be served for quite some time.”

Nina seemed perplexed. “Then why did we come to the dining hall?”

“Didn’t you hear the captain? There’s an important matter to discuss,” Shirley explained.

Nina admitted she had missed the announcement. “I was engrossed in my book. Uncle Duncan mentioned meeting in the dining hall, so I simply brought it along.”

Nina shook her head in a flustered manner. “Who has food?” she inquired, glancing hopefully around the room.

“I have a stash of cookies and dried, salted fish,” Alice declared, a grin of delight spreading across her face. She rose from her chair, enthusiastically plunging her hand into the deep pocket of her skirt and retrieving a handful of treats. “Anyone else feeling peckish?”

Nina and Shirley reacted immediately, surging forward in anticipation. Dog, however, found himself yanked off to the side by the leash around his neck, scrabbling frantically at a sheet of parchment with his paws. “Hold on a minute, Shirley,” he grumbled, annoyance tingeing his voice. “You could have given me some warning before you bolted. I’ve messed up my coordinate map now…”

Lawrence watched, dumbfounded, as this chaotic scene unfolded before him. The gathering, initially cloaked in an aura of somberness and seriousness, had abruptly transformed into a lively spectacle. With a sense of trepidation, he hesitantly turned his gaze towards Morris. To his relief, Morris remained the lone figure still seated with dignity. Removing the pipe from his lips, Morris flashed a friendly nod at Lawrence, reassuring him, “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. This sort of thing happens on the ship daily—if you’re ever hungry, just let Alice know. She’s responsible for everyone’s nourishment.”

Lawrence could practically hear his brain groan as it strained to process this surreal experience. Struggling to find his voice, he eventually managed to stutter out, “Um, I’m… not actually hungry.”

No sooner had he finished his sentence than his peripheral vision detected a flickering green light by the entrance of the dining hall. An immediate sense of alertness washed over him. He readied himself to caution everyone, but just as he was about to speak, the door swung open. To his surprise, it was not the proprietor of the Vanished who made his entrance.

Instead, it was Tyrian, swaying slightly, clutching a suitcase, and wearing an expression of bewilderment as he surveyed the scene that greeted him in the dining hall.

Shirley, in the midst of scaling the table; Dog, left dangling in mid-air; Nina, clinging on to Alice; and Alice herself, the living doll with an icy regal countenance, with one hand laden with cookies and the other bearing dried fish. The Gatekeeper of Frost and the Inquisitor of Pland were situated opposite each other at the table, their expressions unreadable as they calmly placed their hands over their foreheads.

The unexpected arrival of Tyrian captured everyone’s attention. Even Shirley, who was in the process of cramming fish into her mouth, paused her actions.

Numerous pairs of eyes at the table simultaneously turned to appraise the newly appointed Frost Governor. The force of their synchronized scrutiny even compelled the “Iron Admiral,” accustomed to navigating treacherous storms and colossal waves, to instinctively retreat a half-step.

However, having previously witnessed the unusual atmosphere of the Vanished, Tyrian quickly regained his composure.

Regulating his expression, he proceeded to approach the lengthy table, greeting everyone in an amicable manner. His demeanor was poised and courteous, devoid of any hint of his infamous past life as a pirate who had ruled the frosty seas for half a century.

“Apologies for my tardiness; I encountered a few complications while preparing,” Tyrian confessed as he navigated his way towards an unoccupied seat adjacent to the long table. He heaved his substantial suitcase onto the table’s surface and scanned his surroundings. “Is my father not here yet?”

As if on cue, just as Tyrian finished his inquiry, Duncan’s voice materialized at the head of the long table. “I am here.”

In the blink of an eye, a surge of emerald flames erupted at the end of the table, spiraling upwards before exploding in a spectacular shower. As the flames rained down onto the table, the figure of Duncan materialized from within, assuming his position at his designated chair.

The following instant, accompanied by a chorus of ethereal whispers, the cabin was awash with an enchanting green luminescence.

From the cavernous bowels of the cabin, a disconcerting creaking noise echoed ominously.

Morris detected the subtle shift in the atmosphere. He could sense the fundamental essence of the ship itself transforming, shifting into a defensive stance!

Following this realization, the ship’s voice resonated from within the flaming spectacle: “The issue I am going to discuss today is extremely delicate and hazardous. As such, we require the utmost level of protection. The Vanished will now navigate its way into the spirit world. Throughout the gathering, those with robust faith should remain alert to their mental states. If any ‘revelations’ related to the gods are heard or seen, report to me without delay.”

Vanna, Morris, and Agatha exchanged instinctive glances, but their hesitation was fleeting.

Duncan’s gaze fell upon Tyrian. “Did you bring the crystal ball?”

“Indeed, I have,” Tyrian confirmed without hesitation. He raised his hand and unlatched the heavy suitcase he had been toting, revealing the mystical crystal ball and a complex lens apparatus within. The objects, pulsating with supernatural power, were now laid bare for all to see. He set to work adjusting the intricate framework on the lens base, ensuring each lens was situated in its proper position.

Shortly after, the crystal ball commenced a gradual illumination.

Following a momentary pause, a nebulous silhouette started to materialize within the faint light, swiftly gaining clarity.

The figure of Lucretia was briefly visible within the crystal ball before abruptly vanishing from sight.

Nina, who had been observing the proceedings with keen interest, propping her head up, was left utterly bewildered. She swiveled her gaze towards Tyrian, questioning, “Did it malfunction?”

Tyrian, somewhat flustered, rubbed his chin in embarrassment. “She… tumbled off her chair.”

As his words echoed into silence, a series of broken noises and the shifting of miscellaneous objects emanated from within the crystal ball. Once again, Lucretia emerged in the heart of the spectral image, the renowned “Sea Witch,” with her countenance displaying a hint of startled apprehension as she studied the scenario playing out on the side of the crystal ball. Then, in the very next moment, she nudged Tyrian with a look of disbelief and cried out, “Brother! What on earth are you doing?!”

“I was the one who requested him to transport the crystal ball to the Vanished, Lucy,” before Tyrian could muster a response, Duncan’s voice interjected from beside him. “But I hadn’t anticipated him neglecting to inform you beforehand. Fear not, it’s merely a brief conversation with your own father. You’re not going to be cursed or anything of that sort.”

Caught within the crystal ball, Lucretia’s expression was peculiar. Clearly unprepared for this abrupt intrusion and ensuing dialogue, she appeared somewhat discomposed. However, the seriousness of the atmosphere on the other side quickly registered, and she managed to suppress her initial shock, striving to regain her equilibrium. “Father, it’s been quite some time. My apologies, my reaction was not intentional.”

“It hasn’t been all that long, in truth. Do not fret over it, I understand your initial reaction,” Duncan responded with a faint smile. Then he raised his head, gesturing towards the other figures assembled around the table. “Let’s conduct a brief round of introductions, Lucy. These individuals are the newest members of the Vanished and its fleet.”

One by one, he introduced each person around the table, who respectfully stood when their names were announced. Lastly, he gestured towards the figure within the crystal ball. “This is my daughter, Lucretia. I imagine many of you are already acquainted with her, so there’s no need for an elaborate introduction, correct?”

“The esteemed border adventurer,” Morris promptly acknowledged with a nod. “It’s an honor to meet you, madam.”

With an air of grace, Lucretia reciprocated the nod. “I’ve also heard of your reputation. Even in Wind Harbor, Moko, and amongst the professors of the Academy of Truth, your achievements and perspectives are frequently brought up during discussions.”

Regaining her composure, the “Sea Witch” presented herself as dignified and collected. She sat upright within the crystal ball, exuding an aura of confidence and elegance in her every movement. She didn’t appear to be someone who had just toppled off a chair.

“Alright, let’s curtail the introductions and formalities there,” Duncan directed the discussion back towards the main agenda in a timely manner. His gaze swept across everyone present, ensuring everyone was accounted for. Even Goathead, who was immobilized and confined to the captain’s quarters, was granted permission by Duncan to listen to the proceedings.

Duncan exhaled softly, cleaving the hushed stillness that hung over the room. “To cut to the chase, Agatha and I have recently accomplished a deep-sea exploration beneath Frost. The specific depth we descended to has surpassed that of the Abyss Project conducted half a century ago. The dive unveiled a myriad of alarming, even terrifying sights, from which we acquired insights that hold the potential to radically upend prevailing assumptions.”

“First and foremost,” he paused for effect before dropping his bombshell, “we have conclusively verified the presence of a biological entity of gargantuan proportions at the city-state’s oceanic base!”