Chapter 15 Sleepless Night

The flames in the mirror receded, and the majestic figure gradually disappeared into the darkness, but the mysterious symbol that Captain Duncan had shown him remained clearly etched in his mind.

Morris left the Naivete Room, glanced at his sleeping wife, and went to the writing desk by the window. He took out paper and pen, and using the faint light of the cold night outside the window, he sketched the mysterious and bizarre symbol while his memory was still fresh.

Afterward, the erudite old scholar frowned and stared at the pattern on the paper, lost in thought.

Even a scholar who could pass the most rigorous exams at the Academy of Truth was at a loss when he saw this symbol—he was only certain of one thing: it was definitely not a mark used by any city-state, church, or official organization, nor did it conform to the runic norms of mystical symbolism.

According to the captain, this was the emblem carried by several ascetics who had visited the Vanishing Sail a hundred years ago, and he was now suddenly interested in this emblem.

As the captain's "thrall," Morris did not intend to pry into the captain's secrets, but he was extremely curious about those mysterious ascetics—what kind of "people" would carry such bizarre amulets and suddenly attract Captain Duncan's attention a hundred years later?

After pondering for a long time, Morris gently exhaled, carefully folded the paper, and put it into the drawer of the writing desk, locking it carefully.

He planned to go to the study after sunrise tomorrow to look through the books on ancient city-states and secret societies—although the God of Wisdom had bestowed his followers with excellent memory, even the best memory had its loopholes. Maybe his collection contained records of this symbol?

If he couldn't find clues in his collection... then he would go to the city-state's major libraries and the archives of the upper district universities to investigate. Although he had left his university post for many years, his connections and influence were still there, and it wouldn't be a problem to borrow some valuable books.

If the entire Pland couldn't find any records in this regard, then he could only write or send telegrams to old friends in Lunsea and other places—some old fellows who were quite knowledgeable in the fields of history and mysticism might be able to help. Even if they couldn't help, the universities and research institutions behind them could.

In any case, this was the first task the captain had given him—he had bestowed the miracle of resurrection, and now he finally had the opportunity to be of some help.

Morris pondered silently in his heart, and the restlessness caused by insomnia unconsciously calmed down completely. He seemed to have found that vigorous feeling he had when he first entered the academy, full of fighting spirit for a certain goal, and along with this fighting spirit came...

A long-lost sense of drowsiness.

...

Tiree had been tossing and turning in bed for hours, still unable to fall asleep.

He couldn't remember how many years it had been since he had suffered such severe insomnia. As the commander of the Sea Fog Fleet and the captain of the Sea Fog, he had always had strong self-control and good habits, able to fall asleep and wake up as precisely controlled as a machine—except for today.

All kinds of thoughts and images constantly rose and fell in his mind, interspersed with countless yellowed and trivial memories: the flames that appeared in the mirror, his gloomy and majestic father, the exploration ship that once set sail amidst cheers and praise, the shadow of the ship returning from subspace...

Even the encounter with the Vanishing Sail in the Frost Coast, and what the Frost Queen had said to him at the beginning of Project Abyss—

"There are horrors beneath the deep sea, but there must also be all the answers beneath the deep sea."

Tiree sat up in bed.

He looked at the wall not far away. The mirror that had originally hung on the wall had been taken down and was now quietly placed face down on the nearby table. The wall was left with a slightly lighter oval mark. The case for housing the crystal ball and lens assembly was placed at the foot of the bed, relocked. Other places in the room with mirrors or smooth mirrored surfaces were also covered with cloth.

But the white cloths covering the mirrors made the room even more gloomy and eerie. Under the cold light of the World Scar, the room resembled a gathering place for wraiths.

But Tiree wasn't afraid of ghosts. He had a ship full of undead sailors, a cursed living warship, and several secret bases that often produced bizarre and terrifying illusions—compared to his father, ghosts were nothing to be afraid of.

After pacing back and forth in the quiet and eerie room for a few minutes, Tiree's gaze fell on the suitcase at the foot of the bed. After hesitating slightly, he picked up the case.

Polly had already flown back to the ship to report that he was safe. As the captain, he couldn't very well run to the next room and wake up his subordinates to keep him company playing cards to relieve his boredom. He might as well see what Lucretia was doing.

Maybe she was suffering from insomnia like him.

He turned on the electric light, placed the case on the table, and opened the lid. The crystal ball, surrounded by a complex lens assembly and solitary connecting arms, appeared before him. Tiree reached out, but before he could start the lens, the device hummed, and the crystal ball at its center was quickly lit up.

In just a moment, Lucretia's figure appeared in the crystal ball.

The "Sea Witch," dressed in a gauze skirt, with black hair draped over her shoulders, and a mysterious temperament, was now looking at her brother with a weary expression.

"Brother, I have insomnia."

"If you have insomnia, you can find your dolls to relieve your boredom, or do your magical experiments," Tiree said with a straight face, feigning seriousness. "I am formulating the follow-up development plan for the Sea Fog Fleet."

"But your hair is as messy as if you've been rolling around on the pillow for four hours," Lucretia said faintly. "Is this a new posture when formulating development plans?"

...

Tiree was silent for a few seconds. "Can't you give me some good advice? Use your cleverness as a 'witch'... Forget it.

Never mind I asked."

The brother and sister fell into an awkward silence for a moment, then chatted idly for a few more sentences, but both intentionally or unintentionally avoided something crucial. However, gradually, the topic inevitably began to move in a certain direction.

"...I made some 'modifications' to Luni just now," Lucretia said. "I strengthened her joint protection, and added small containers for storing holy oil and protective runes next to the sphere storing the 'soul'."

"Do you think this will prevent Father from contacting you through 'Luni' next time?"

"No, but perhaps it can prevent Luni from crashing directly next time," Lucretia said with a hint of helplessness. "She was actually still a bit shaken by the last crash. We had a serious exchange about it just now."

Tiree was a little curious: "Exchange? What did you exchange with your doll?"

"She advised me not to be nervous, and I advised her to think positively."

Tiree: "..."

They fell silent again, but this time it didn't last long. Tiree suddenly said, "Actually, I was considering something just now."

"What were you considering?"

"Remember what Father said last today?" Tiree said slowly. "He said he found Luni's sister, 'Nilu,' and mentioned that the doll was never sold..."

Lucretia's eyes changed slightly: "You mean..."

"This means that the store is still there—do you remember where that doll shop was?" Tiree's expression became serious. "I only remember that it was in Pland."

Lucretia frowned slightly, lost in memories. Tiree continued to say slowly: "If Father really 'bought' Nilu from that doll shop, then this reveals a very key piece of information: he had already set foot in this city-state in some way before Pland encountered historical pollution, and even operated here openly..."

"Have you considered that this is a clue that Father deliberately revealed to us?" Lucretia suddenly said, "Now you have thought of these things, but perhaps this is what Father deliberately wanted you to investigate."

Tiree was silent for a few seconds before opening his mouth: "I have considered this possibility—but even so, you know I won't let go of this clue."

"...I only vaguely remember the location of that store," Lucretia said. "It should be on the edge of the upper district, near a certain intersection in the southern lower district. The shop owner is an elven lady... When I saw her a century ago, she felt very old, but considering the lifespan of elves, the owner of that shop should still be her now."

Tiree nodded lightly, silently noting down the information provided by Lucretia.

...

The sea was a little rough, and the Vanishing Sail was rocking slightly in the waves. Duncan sat at the navigation table, somewhat boredly studying the sea chart shrouded in mist in front of him.

His body located in the city-state of Pland had already fallen asleep, but this "main body" located on the Vanishing Sail hardly needed to rest. As a result, the night voyage became a rather boring time, especially with the double restriction that it was not suitable for reading at night and not suitable for reading at sea. He couldn't bring the books he bought in Pland to relieve his boredom, and this boredom was even worse.

After all, he couldn't keep exploring this ship as a pastime every day—no matter how big the Vanishing Sail was, there was an end to the exploration.

"I even want to take a spirit walk to the glass sea and call Vanna and Tiree to play cards," Duncan sighed in boredom and looked up at the Goathead. "Vanna is hard to say, but Tiree probably won't be able to sleep tonight."

"If you really do that, he will have insomnia tomorrow night too," the Goathead said immediately. "But frankly, your idea is really attractive, with plenty of horror effect and entertainment value—who are you planning to knock first?"

"I'm just saying," Duncan glanced at the Goathead, and his gaze swept over the sea chart again, but suddenly, he seemed to remember something again and suddenly looked up. "How long until sunrise?"

"...There are still three hours," the Goathead roughly estimated. "If it rises on time today."