Ashes Of Deep Sea Chapter 498

Chapter 498: Chapter 499: Calm Days Chapter 498: Chapter 499: Calm Days Frost, within the domed office of the City-State's Governor, Tyrion was standing in front of a mirror, earnestly adjusting the medals and ribbons on his chest.

The visage with one eye still appeared stern, even a bit intimidating, but a brand-new Governor's uniform and those gleaming medals had transformed that sternness into a trustworthy dignity–to some degree. At this very moment, the city was in need of a dignified Governor.

Tyrion exhaled lightly and turned his head to look at the other side of the domed office.

Two Undead sailors were hanging the new City-State flag on the wall, and next to the flag, a line of powerful text was still deeply engraved beside the door, as it had been half a century ago:
“Let as many people survive as possible.”

Tyrion quietly observed those words for a long while before he slowly nodded and walked over to the large desk not far away–there was still a little time before the official event began, and he could use this time to recall and organize the proceedings he would soon follow, or to calm his emotions.

The complex set of lenses on the desk began to operate on their own, and the surface of the crystal ball in the center of the lenses faintly glowed until the figure of Lucresia emerged from the dim light, sizing Tyrion up and down.

“That outfit suits you,” the “Witch of the Sea” said in her black dress, “It matches well with the eyepatch.”

Tyrion tugged at the button near his collar and glanced sideways at his sister in the crystal ball, “Did you come just to mock me?”

“I'm sincerely complimenting you,” Lucresia said seriously, “You haven't taken such care with your appearance for many years–the rugged and intentionally frightening look of a pirate never suited you at all.”

“I might have to maintain this image for a very long time, until a more suitable Governor appears, or until father has other arrangements,” Tyrion paused, then continued, “Sooner or later, I will miss those carefree days.”

“At least not today,” Lucresia replied with a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth, “How does it feel, about to take the oath and become the Governor of a City-State? I hear you have a parade to attend afterward, to present yourself to the citizens?”

“The parading is for soothing hearts, to let people believe that order has been re-established and that somebody in the upper echelons of the City-State is still taking responsibility–though I don't like that part much, it is necessary,” Tyrion said, “As for the feeling of becoming Governor…”

He stopped, then after a moment, shook his head and continued, “I don't feel much because the handover of government work and team building had already been underway. I've been busy to this point in the role of Governor. Today's so-called 'inauguration' ceremony is just a 'procedure' for the public.”

“Is that so? Then I wish you a smooth procedure, big brother,” Lucresia laughed, suddenly using the nickname from their childhood years ago, then she paused slightly, her expression turning serious, “How are your preparations for the task father assigned you?”

“I've already drafted several confidential letters to send to other City-States, but the specifics still need polishing–I need to convey the warning, make them realize the severity of the situation, yet avoid ambiguity and prevent other City-States from reacting excessively or rashly. To be honest, this kind of paperwork is much harder than leading a fleet against the Deep Sea Spawn or other pirates.”

“If you ask me, just make things clear and severe. After all, those who become Governors are smart enough, or at least they should have sufficient smart people under them. They'll know how to respond; you're just there to give them a heads-up, not to babysit them on how to set up a 'warning system',” Lucresia casually said, “I'm ready to make contact with the Explorers' Association–ha, I wonder what their reaction will be.”

“A warning from the Exiled Fleet to the entire civilized world,” Tyrion said with a tinge of emotion. “The last time something like this happened was a century ago.”

“…Yes, when father first discovered the collapses at the 'frontiers' were occurring within the 'interior',” Lucresia began solemnly, “I still remember the bell tolls from the church, every City-State's newspaper discussing the warning from the great adventurer Duncan Ebnomal.”

“After so many years, he is once again watching over the 'frontier' of this world–history seems to have come full circle. Perhaps in a sense, the Homeloss never lost its way; its century in Subspace might just have been a journey within some broader dimensions that we have yet to understand. Now it's returned, with the brilliance of newfound paths, just like the mad poet Puman's lines, 'They could once travel straight in one direction until they circumnavigated the back of the world, to return to the realm of mankind from a stunning angle'…”

Tyrion recited those infamous whimsical verses in a soft voice, slowly standing up from behind the desk. The sound of the band was now faintly heard outside the domed office, and footsteps were approaching from the corridor–time had come to let the city meet its new Governor.

“Good luck, big brother–and don't forget my Spirit Realm lenses.”

“Don't worry, I remember this time.”

The biting cold wind blew through the sparse shrubbery alongside the path, over the dark, intricately carved fences, and past the silent gravestones and the vacant biers on both sides of the path, eventually dying down in the depths of the graveyard.

Two figures were slowly walking down the path in the cemetery.

One was particularly tall and burly, cloaked in a pure black coat and wearing a matching broad-brimmed hat. Layers of bandages were wrapped around his skin, which was visible outside the coat, creating an intimidating sight.

The other wore a simple Nun's black dress and had her eyes covered, with brown hair cascading down.

“I thought you would attend Governor Tyrion's inauguration, even if just in this avatar,” Agatha walked alongside Duncan, speaking softly, “Finding a suitable place for you wouldn't have been difficult.”

“I don't show up, and he is fine; but if I actually appear, he might just become nervous,” Duncan said. “Later, when the convoy passes by here, I'll just wave to him from a distance.”

Speaking, he lifted his head to look at the rather deserted mortuary path and the empty platforms for laying out the bodies on both sides of the path.

“…I actually feel a bit nostalgic for this place. In my memory, it used to be filled with coffins.”

“During this special period, we had to temporarily change the process for sending off the dead–the bodies need to be sent quickly to the crematorium these days, and the silent monks directly give them solace and send them off next to the furnace, so the cemetery here has become quieter instead.”

Duncan hummed in response. Then, just as he was about to reach the end of the path, he suddenly stopped.

Before him was a simple custodian's cottage–surprisingly, there was a special guest in front of the cottage.

A twelve-year-old girl, dressed in a thick white winter coat, with a fluffy hat, busily moved about in front of the custodian's cottage like a snowball wrapped up tight, holding a broom almost as tall as herself, as she diligently swept the snow that had accumulated in front of the house.

“Is that Annie?” Duncan turned his head slightly and asked in a quiet voice.

“It's her–aside from the first few days of martial law, she comes over every day during the school's lunch break,” Agatha spoke softly. “The custodian here is no longer present, and the new one has not been arranged yet, so the cemetery is temporarily under the care of the nearest church. It does her no harm to be here… And so the church tacitly allows her to come and go as she pleases.”

“Do you also give your tacit consent?”

“…Yes.”

The girl in front of the cottage, sweeping snow, finally noticed the movement coming from the path.

She turned her head, surprised to see two figures appearing not far away, and after a few seconds of being stunned, she threw her broom aside and ran over happily.

“Gatekeeper sister! And Uncle Duncan!”

Annie greeted the two familiar faces with joy but right after she had finished shouting, she seemed to suddenly remember something and quickly stood up straight again, looking at Agatha: “Mom said to call you 'Gatekeeper Your Excellency,' or 'Archbishop.'”
“It's okay, just call me what you like,” Agatha began to smile, reaching out to adjust Annie's hat. “Are you cold?”

“Not cold,” Annie shook her head and then took hold of Agatha's hand, pointing with the other hand toward the cottage not far away. “Your hands are really cold, come inside and warm by the fire–I also made some herbal tea!”

Agatha instinctively wanted to decline but saw that Duncan was already striding towards the cottage, leaving her surprised and with no choice but to follow.

Inside the neat and simple custodian's cottage, the fire was roaring, the wood crackling in the stove, and the teapot at the side steamed, the steam carrying with it the clear and bitter smell of herbs.

Annie poured two cups of hot tea, pushing the warm mugs into Duncan's and Agatha's hands: “This is prepared for the church guards on patrol; they'll be here soon. Even if you don't drink it… it will warm your hands.”

It seemed that it was only now that the girl realized that the “Gatekeeper sister” standing before her was already a body without life.

Agatha didn't mind. She thanked her, holding the cup that was gradually becoming hot.

“Do you feel warmer now?” Annie asked again.

Chilly, the entire world was very chilly, the teacup and even the fire.

Agatha smiled gently: “Much warmer.”

Following that, she noticed Duncan looking around the room every now and then.

“What are you looking at?” she asked, puzzled.

“I think, this would be a good 'settlement' point,” Duncan withdrew his gaze that had been scanning the room and said to Agatha, “After all, if it's just to 'settle' an embodiment, that house on Oak Street would seem a bit wasteful.”

Agatha was taken aback, then gradually realized what he meant and a look of surprise appeared on her face: “You mean to say…”
“The Homeloss will continue its voyage, and this embodiment of mine left in the city also needs a place to stay,” Duncan said indifferently. “You don't need to worry about a new custodian; this could save you a lot of trouble.”

Chapter end

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