Chapter 233: Chapter 237 Insomniac People
The flames in the mirror receded, and the majestic figure gradually disappeared into the darkness, but the mysterious symbol Captain Duncan had shown remained vividly in his mind.
This content is taken from fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm.
Maurice left the storeroom and after a glance at his sleeping wife, approached the writing desk under the window. He took out paper and a pen, and using the cold, luminous night light from outside, while his memory was still clear, he sketched the strange, ancient symbol.
Subsequently, the knowledgeable old scholar furrowed his brows as he looked at the drawing on the paper, falling into a brief contemplation.
Even scholars who had passed the strictest exams at the Academy of Truth were baffled by the sight of this symbol—of one thing he was certain: that this was neither a symbol used by any City-State, church, or official organization, nor did it conform to the norms of mystical symbols.
According to the captain, it was an emblem carried by several ascetics who had visited Homeloss a hundred years ago, and now, he had suddenly become interested in the emblem.
As a “family member” of the captain, Maurice did not intend to pry into the captain’s secrets, but he was extremely curious about those mysterious ascetics—what kind of “person” would carry such an odd amulet and manage to catch Captain Duncan’s attention once again after a hundred years?
...
After a long contemplation, Maurice sighed lightly, carefully folded the paper, placed it in the drawer of the writing desk, and locked it meticulously.
He planned to wait until the sun rose the next day then search through books about ancient City-States and secret societies in his study—although the god of wisdom had blessed his Believers with exceptional memory, even the best memory could have its gaps. Perhaps there was something about the symbol in his collection?
If he could not find any clues in his own collection, he would investigate a few major libraries in the City-State and the archives of the universities in the Upper City District. Although he had left his university position many years ago, his old connections and influence were still intact; borrowing some precious books wouldn’t be a problem.
If there were no records in all of Plunder about this matter, then he would have to write letters or send telegrams to old friends in places like Rensa—some of his pals, who were well-studied in history and mysticism, might be able to help. Even if they couldn’t, their universities and research institutions might.
No matter what, this was the first task the captain had given him—he had bestowed upon him the miracle of resurrection, and now, at last, he had a chance to be of help.
Thinking thus, Maurice’s restless mind, upset from insomnia, unknowingly settled fully. He felt as if he had rediscovered the vigorous, goal-driven enthusiasm he had when he first entered the academy, and with that enthusiasm…
The long-lost drowsiness also surged forth.
…
Terrian had been tossing and turning in bed for hours, still devoid of any urge to sleep.
He could scarcely recall the last time he suffered from such severe insomnia. As the commander of the Mist Fleet, captain of the Sea Mist, he possessed strong self-discipline and a strict routine. His sleep and wake times were usually as precise and controlled as a machine—except for today.
Various thoughts and images surged endlessly in his mind, interspersed with numerous yellowed and trivial memories: the flames in the mirror; his somber, majestic father; the exploration ship that had set sail amid cheers and acclaim; the ship’s silhouette returning from Subspace…
Even the encounter near Frost waters with Homeloss and the words the Frost Queen had said at the beginning of the “Deep Trench Plan”—
“There are terrifying things beneath the deep sea, but under the deep sea, there also must be all the answers.”
Terrian sat up from the bed.
He looked toward the wall not far away, where the mirror that had once hung had been taken down, now lying quietly face-down on a nearby table, leaving a slightly lighter oval trace on the wall. The case for placing the Crystal Ball and its lenses was at the foot of the bed, locked anew, and other parts of the room with mirrors or smooth reflective surfaces were also covered with cloth.
But those white cloths covering the mirrors made the room appear even more gloomy and eerie under the cold radiance of Creation of the World, as if it was a dwelling place for specters.
Nevertheless, Terrian was not afraid of any ghosts. He had a shipful of undead sailors, a cursed living battleship, and several secret bases that often produced bizarre, horrifying illusions—compared to his father, ghosts were hardly terrifying.
After pacing back and forth in the quiet, eerie room for a few minutes, Terrian’s gaze landed on the suitcase at the foot of the bed. After a slight hesitation, he picked up the case.
Perry had already flown back to the ship to report his safety. As a captain, it wouldn’t be proper to go next door to wake up his subordinates for a card game to relieve his boredom; it might be better to see what Lucille was doing.
Perhaps she was suffering from insomnia just like him.
He turned on the electric light, placed the case on the table, and opened the lid. The crystal ball, surrounded by complex lenses and curved connecting arms, appeared before his eyes, and as Terrian reached out, but before he even activated the lenses, the device started humming, and the crystal ball at the center lit up rapidly.
In just a moment, Lucille’s figure appeared in the crystal ball.
Wearing a gossamer gown, her black hair cascading over her shoulders, the mysterious “Sea Witch” now looked at her brother with an exhausted face.
“Brother, I can’t sleep.”
“I can’t sleep? You could find amusement with your dolls or conduct your magic experiments,” Terian said sternly, still serious, “I am currently planning the development for the Mist Fleet…”
“But your hair is as messy as if it had been tumbling on a pillow for four hours,” Lucresia spoke lightly, “Is this a new posture for planning development?”
“…”
Terian was silent for a few seconds, looking exhausted: “Do you have any good suggestions for treating insomnia? Use your clever wit as a ‘witch’… Never mind, forget I asked.”
The siblings fell into a brief awkward silence, then casually chatted for a bit, though both seemed to deliberately avoid touching on something crucial. Gradually, however, the conversation inevitably began to converge toward a certain direction.
“…I just made some ‘modifications’ to Luny,” Lucresia said, “I’ve enhanced the protection on her joints and added a small container for storing holy oil and protective runes next to the sphere that holds her ‘soul.'”
“Do you think this will stop Father from contacting you through ‘Niru’ next time?”
“It won’t, but maybe Luny won’t freeze up completely next time,” Lucresia’s tone carried a hint of helplessness, “She was actually quite traumatized by the last freeze, and we had a serious conversation about it just now.”
Terian grew curious: “A conversation? What did you and your doll talk about?”
“She advised me not to get tense, and I persuaded her to take things easy.”
Terian: “…”
They fell silent again, but this time the silence didn’t last long before Terian suddenly spoke: “Actually, I was just considering something.”
“Considering what?”
“Do you remember the last thing Father said today?” Terian spoke slowly, “He said he had found Luny’s sister ‘Niru,’ and mentioned that the doll had never been sold…”
Lucresia’s expression shifted slightly: “You mean…”
“That means the shop is still there—do you remember where that doll shop is located?” Terian’s expression became serious, “I only remember that it’s somewhere within Plunder.”
Lucresia slightly furrowed her eyebrows in recollection while Terian continued to speak slowly: “If Father really did ‘purchase’ Niru from that doll shop, then it reveals a critical piece of information: he had set foot in the Plunder City-State in some manner before its encounter with historical pollution, even moving about openly…”
“Have you considered that Father might have deliberately revealed this clue to us?” Lucresia suddenly said, “Now that you’ve thought of these things, maybe that’s exactly what Father wanted you to investigate.”
Terian was silent for a few seconds before speaking: “I’ve considered that possibility—but even so, you know I can’t let this clue go.”
“…I only vaguely remember the location of that shop,” Lucresia said, “It should be at the edge of the Upper City District, near an intersection close to the southern Lower City District. The owner was an elf lady… I saw her a century ago, and she seemed quite old then, but considering the lifespan of elves, the owner is likely still her.”
Terian nodded lightly, silently noting down the information Lucresia provided.
…
A slight sea breeze had picked up, and Homeloss swayed slightly in the waves as Duncan sat at the navigation desk, somewhat boredly studying the fog-laden sea charts in front of him.
His body located in the Plunder City-State had already gone to sleep, but his “original body” on board the Homeloss hardly needed any rest. Consequently, night sailing turned into a rather dull time, especially with the double restrictions of it being unsuitable for reading at night or at sea, preventing him from bringing over the recreational books purchased in Plunder to relieve the boredom, intensifying the tedium.
After all, he couldn’t always amuse himself by exploring the ship—no matter how large Homeloss was, there was a limit to exploring it.
“I’m even tempted to wander around the Spirit Realm knocking on glass, calling up Fenna and Terian for a game of cards,” Duncan sighed in boredom, glancing up at the goat head, “It’s hard to say with Fenna, but Terian is probably not sleeping tonight…”
“If you really do that, he’ll probably have insomnia again tomorrow night,” the goat head immediately said, “But honestly, your idea is really attractive, full of thrilling effects and amusement—are you planning to knock on whose first?”
“I was just saying,” Duncan glanced at the goat head, his gaze sweeping over the sea charts again, but suddenly, as if he remembered something, abruptly looked up, “How long till sunrise?”
“…About three hours,” the goat head roughly estimated, “If it rises on time today.”