Ashes Of Deep Sea Chapter 473

Chapter 473: Chapter 474 Morris's Knowledge Blind Spot Chapter 473: Chapter 474 Morris's Knowledge Blind Spot As dusk fell, Morris was summoned to the captain's cabin.

Duncan sat behind the nautical chart table with a serious expression, his desk brimming with a chaotic collection of books–from those brought on board from Prand and Frost to others obtained from the Mist Fleet.

After confirming that reading at sea was “harmless,” the ship's library had steadily grown.

Morris glanced at the table and noted the diverse categories of the books–ranging from bizarre tales from each City-State to authoritative historical documents and even “dangerous books” on fringe theories like doomsday and revelations.

A wave of curiosity and slight anxiety swept through the old scholar.

It seemed the captain had suddenly wanted to find some information, and judging by the books he had taken out, what he was looking for was probably not simple–his calling Morris here most likely pertained to this matter.

With an increase in vigilance, Morris quickly murmured the name of the God of Wisdom Rahm, seeking blessings in the realm of intellect through silent prayer, and checked the amulet strung with colored stones on his wrist before sitting down opposite the captain, “You wanted to see me?”

“…I've run into some problems and need to consult someone as learned as you,” Duncan nodded and, noticing Morris's nervous expression, added with a reassuring smile, “Don't be so tense, it's just a casual inquiry, possibly related to history.”

A casual inquiry? History? Even the owner of Homeloss could not affirm such a hidden truth?

Listening to the captain's reassurances, Morris mentally flipped through Rahm's name numerous times, stacking layers upon layers of foolish blessings, before steeling his nerves and lifting his head, “I'm ready. Please ask.”

Duncan: “…”
With a sigh of helplessness, Duncan knew Morris's nervousness was more than natural. He sighed, organized his thoughts, and began, “In your historical knowledge, has there ever been an account of an event where a huge man-made object fell from the sky, accompanied by extensive flames and flashes, which perhaps even exploded, breaking into several smaller pieces that fell across the world?”

Duncan finished speaking and looked earnestly into Morris's eyes.

Morris froze, meeting Duncan's gaze.

“…Is that all?” the old scholar hesitated.

“That's it,” Duncan nodded. He of course had many more details unmentioned, but in such a vague historical query, too many details could cloud Morris's judgment, so he chose to present it in the simplest form, “If there's any historical record of this event, there might be deviations in the narrative, but the key scenario should revolve around 'a massive object falling in flames.' Do you know of any such event?”

The sudden question puzzling, but noticing Duncan's serious demeanor, Morris began to deeply ponder, and after several minutes, he slowly shook his head, “I have never come across a record similar to that.”

“Including all official and unofficial histories?” Duncan, not surprised by Morris's response, still asked somewhat reluctantly, “This event might have been mythologized or even become part of some heretical theories, as it could have occurred in the distant past.”

“I'm quite certain,” Morris spoke again, “Including all official histories, unofficial narratives, and heretical theories that I've come across, there is nothing that matches or resembles the scene you described–of course, there might still be some narrowly spread legend or lost histories that have recorded this event, as there's always the unknown beyond our knowledge, but…”

Morris paused, then continued, “If even I am unaware of such covert historical secrets, you might find it hard to locate corresponding information elsewhere… perhaps you can try your luck at the Academy of Truth's grand library, searching among the oldest books in Moco and Light Breeze Harbor for clues.”

Duncan said nothing at first, his gaze calmly descending into contemplation. After a long while, he nodded softly, “You can write to the scholars you know to inquire about this matter. If it truly necessitates dealing with the headquarters of the Academy of Truth, that's also possible.”

Listening to the captain's quite solemn tone, Morris nodded gravely.

This matter appeared to be of utmost significance.

As a scholar who had spent a lifetime in study, his curiosity was naturally piqued, and he couldn't help but ask, “May I inquire? This matter you speak of… what exactly is it?”

Duncan hesitated, then slowly spoke, “I'm not sure. I stumbled upon some visions, but even if I cannot ascertain its nature… I feel this scene is likely deeply connected to the current state of our world, and to many lost histories.”

“I understand,” Morris bowed deeply, “I will find a way to investigate.”

He did not continue to inquire about the details, nor did he ask what the captain meant by “illusion,” because he knew curiosity and desire for exploration had to be just right–they could not be too little, nor could they be too much.

After a brief pause, Duncan added, “New Hope, focus on these words when investigating the data.”

“Does that sound like a ship?” Morris wondered aloud.

Duncan pondered for a moment, then nodded with a peculiar expression, “Yes… a ship.”

Indeed, it was a ship, a spacecraft that had plunged from the starry sea to the ground due to an engine explosion.

Frost, in the secretive underground facilities of the south port, Undead engineers were busy at work.

Knowledge from half a century ago was put to use once again, ancient blueprints were taken out from the fleet's storage, and the engineers, as old as the blueprints themselves, excitedly gathered among a pile of machines, pipes, and cables, exchanging thoughts and ideas that sounded like gibberish to ordinary people.

Tyrion sat in a corner of the hall, watching his subordinates bustling about.

“I never thought that I'd see these blueprints come into use again in my lifetime,” said an Undead engineer, holding the drawings. His head was shriveled, there was a large hole in his chest, and half of his body was driven by a steam mechanism. He spoke with excitement, “Look at these drainage systems and balancing mechanisms; there have been a lot of modern modifications to the submarine, but the basic principles are still those from back then–water intake, descent, water discharge, ascent, supplemented by weights in the bottom of the hold…”

“I understand your excitement,” Tyrion glanced at his subordinate, “but I must remind you, you are no longer in 'your lifetime.'”
“Close enough, 'dead lifetime' works just as well,” the shriveled-headed Undead engineer laughed, revealing a ghastly and incomplete set of teeth. He raised his arm and forcefully tapped his steam mechanism, causing the slightly malfunctioning gears to clatter back into motion. Then, he lifted his head again, gazing at the submarine surrounded by comrades nearby and spoke wistfully, “Ah… it would be nice to meet its builders. It's well-designed, crafted with care… They really wanted it to be of use.”

Tyrion remained silent, quietly observing the submarine in the center of the hall. After a long while, he finally sighed softly, “Go on then, it can indeed be of use this time, let there be no mistakes.”

“Yes, captain.”

As his subordinate left, Tyrion breathed out quietly, and just then, a soft humming noise suddenly emanated from the Crystal Ball lens set by his hand, followed by the teasing voice of Lucrecia, “You seem troubled, brother. Being a Governor isn't as easy as it looks, is it?”

Tyrion, expressionless, turned his face towards the Crystal Ball on the table which was gradually lighting up, Lucrecia's figure appearing within.

“I specifically moved this thing from the ship, not to hear you tease your own brother.”

“Relax, brother. You're not a pirate chief anymore. A Governor needs to possess both dignity and approachability,” Lucrecia smiled, seemingly unaffected by Tyrion's tone of dissatisfaction. Then, her tone shifted, driven by curiosity, “Still, I really want to know, was this… really father's arrangement?”

“What else?” Tyrion sighed, “He did a big thing here, bigger than you can imagine. Now, the whole of Frost is under his influence. I should feel fortunate, he truly regained his humanity. So, even though his plans were unexpected, they are not bad at all… whether it's Frost or my Mist Fleet, there's at least an explanation now.”

Lucrecia finally dropped her slight teasing smile, pondered for a moment, and then hesitatingly spoke, “Is… father doing well now?”

“Very well, his physical body is on Homeloss, spending his days fishing or feeding pigeons, and his avatar is here in Frost, going for walks in the park every morning and supervising the engineering progress here in the afternoon–do you care that much? Next time he's here, I'll activate the Crystal Ball, and you two can talk directly?”

“Ah, let's not!” Lucrecia almost reflexively raised her voice, then quickly reverted to her ladylike demeanor, “I… I still need to prepare; let's not talk about this, I have a lot on my plate here…”

“You have a lot going on over there?” Tyrion heard this but subconsciously raised his eyebrows, “Speaking of which, how is your research going over there? What's the status of that 'fragment' that fell from the sky?”

Lucrecia hesitated for a moment, initially, she was just looking for an excuse to divert the conversation, but now she couldn't help but sigh lightly.

“There's been no progress, even Taran El from Light Breeze Harbor is at a loss.”

Chapter end

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