Inside the chilling and grandly domed office, housed within the city-state governor’s mansion, stood Tyrian. He was positioned before a mirror, and with the utmost precision, he adjusted the array of gleaming medals and ribbons that adorned his chest.
His countenance bore the mark of a single eye, an imposing sight that verged on the frightening. But the addition of a crisp, new executive uniform and a chest full of shiny awards managed to soften his severity, morphing it into a trustworthy authority figure — precisely what the city needed in a stern chief executive at this crucial moment.
Taking a measured breath, Tyrian shifted his gaze to the other side of the spacious, domed office. There, two ageless sailors were diligently affixing the new city-state flag to the wall. Adjacent to the flag, there remained a line of inspiring words, indelibly etched near the door from half a century ago: “Let as many people survive as possible.”
Tyrian observed these enduring words in a silent, reflective manner. After a prolonged moment, he gently nodded and slowly walked towards a large, stately desk situated a few strides away. The upcoming official event left him with a brief respite, a window of time he could mentally use to rehearse the proceedings or simply steady his emotions. On the desk, a complex assembly of lenses started to whir into motion, with the surface of a central crystal ball faintly radiating a warm glow.
From the soft glow, an image of Lucretia materialized. Clothed in a somber black dress, she surveyed Tyrian, stating, “That uniform suits you well,” in her characteristic “Sea Witch” tone.
“It complements my eyepatch,” Tyrian retorted, adjusting the button near his jacket collar and casting a glance at his sister’s image in the crystal ball, “Are you here just to tease me?”
“I’m genuinely complimenting you,” Lucretia asserted with a serious look, “You haven’t paid such attention to your image in many years. Your rough and intentionally intimidating pirate persona doesn’t fit you at all.”
“I may need to keep up this appearance for an extended period,” Tyrian paused for a moment, “until a more fitting chief executive steps in or father devises other plans. Eventually, I may long for those days of unrestrained freedom and debauchery.”
“But that’s not today,” Lucretia’s lips curled into a faint smile, “What’s it like, about to be inaugurated as a city-state’s chief executive? I’ve heard rumors about a forthcoming parade where you’ll present yourself to the public.”
“The parade is aimed at soothing public nerves,” Tyrian explained, “convincing them that order has been restored and that the city-state’s leadership remains accountable. I’m not particularly thrilled about this part, but it’s a necessary step. As for what it feels like to be the chief executive…”
He paused momentarily, then shook his head and resumed speaking, “I don’t feel any distinct change because the handover of government duties and the team-building process have already been accomplished. In fact, I’ve been caught up in the whirlwind of executive duties until now. Today’s so-called ‘inauguration ceremony’ is merely a public formality.”
“Is that so? Well, I hope your ‘formality’ proceeds without a hitch, big brother,” Lucretia’s laughter rang out as she teasingly referred to him using the familial term from their childhood. Her laughter subsided, and her countenance turned serious, “How are Father’s orders progressing?”
“I’ve started drafting a series of confidential letters intended for the other city-states,” he shared, “but the specifics still need careful contemplation. I need to communicate a stark warning, make them comprehend the gravity of our circumstances, avoid any vagueness, and prevent the other city-states from responding inappropriately or excessively. To be honest, this type of bureaucratic work is much more challenging than commanding a fleet against the deep-sea offspring or other pirate factions.”
In response, Lucretia nonchalantly suggested, “I think you should just be forthright and grave. Those who attain the position of chief executives are undoubtedly intelligent or at least surrounded by a cadre of wise advisers. They would know how to respond. You’re merely offering them a reminder, not instructing them like a governess on how to establish an early warning system.” She continued, “I’m prepared to get in touch with the Explorer’s Association. Oh, I can’t wait to see their reaction.”
“A warning from the Vanished Fleet to the entirety of the civilized world.” Tyrian voiced this sentiment with a touch of emotion, “The last time such an event occurred was a century ago.”
“Indeed, that was when Father first unveiled the vision of the impending border collapse in the ‘Inner Region’.”
Lucretia murmured as she recalled, “I still remember the tolling of the church bells at that time. Every city-state’s newspaper was abuzz, debating the warnings from the renowned adventurer, Duncan Abnomar.”
“So many years have gone by, and he’s once again observing the ‘border’ of the world. History seems to have looped back to its origin. Perhaps in a certain way, the Vanished never truly lost its path. Its century in subspace is just a sort of journey within a broader dimension that we’re yet to comprehend. Now, it returns, bearing the shine of a new route, just like the phrase left by the famed mad poet, Puman.”
“They could once navigate straight in one direction until they circumnavigated the world, reappearing from an unexpected angle,” Tyrian softly recited this well-known, absurd verse from history. Gradually, he rose from his chair behind the desk. The faint melody of a band wafted in from outside the domed office, and the sound of approaching footsteps echoed from the hallway. The hour to present the city with its new chief executive had finally arrived.
“Best of luck, elder brother. And remember not to forget my spirit lens.”
“Don’t worry, it’s at the forefront of my mind this time.”
A biting, frigid wind whistled through the sparse shrubbery lining the path. It blew past a dark, intricately carved fence, swept over silent tombstones, and whipped around the vacant platforms that once held corpses on either side of the path before eventually dissipating deep within the cemetery. Two figures ambled along the cemetery path. One was exceptionally tall and robust, draped in a pitch-black coat and crowned with a similarly jet-black wide-brimmed hat. His visible skin was concealed under layers of bandages, giving an eerie impression at first sight.
The other figure was attired in a simple, black nun’s robe, her eyes shielded, her sandy hair cascading down.
“I was under the impression that you would attend Governor Tyrian’s inauguration ceremony, even in this incarnation,” Agatha murmured as she slowly advanced alongside Duncan, “Arranging an appropriate seat for you wouldn’t have been a challenge.”
“I have no intention of making an appearance. He’s faring well. My presence could potentially unsettle him,” Duncan responded. “I plan to merely wave at him from a distance when the parade passes by here.”
While speaking, he lifted his gaze to survey the deserted cemetery path and the empty platforms adjacent to it.
“I miss this place. I recall… it was once filled with coffins.”
“These are extraordinary times, so we had to temporarily alter our process of sending off the dead. The bodies at that time had to be expedited to the incinerator. The silent priests would directly console and bid them farewell next to the furnace. Because of that, this made the cemetery seem eerily quiet,” Agatha elaborated.
Duncan grunted in acknowledgment. As they approached the end of the path, he suddenly halted – a modest guard’s cottage came into view with an unexpected guest at the front. Resembling a tightly wrapped snowball with a thick white winter coat and fluffy hat, a girl of about twelve was diligently sweeping the snow in front of the house with a broom almost as tall as she was.
“Is that Annie?” Duncan slightly turned his head, softly inquiring.
“Yes, she has been visiting here every day during her school break, except for the initial days of martial law,” Agatha quietly confirmed.
“The previous aged guardian has passed, and a replacement has yet to be appointed. Therefore, the cemetery is temporarily under the purview of the nearest church. Since she’s not causing any harm, the church permits her to come and go as she wishes.”
“Do you also consent to this?”
“Mhmm…”
The girl busily sweeping the snow in front of the cottage finally registered the activity from the path. She swiveled her head, her expression reflecting surprise at the sight of the two figures appearing not too far away. After a few moments of startled silence, she tossed aside the broom she held and ran over joyfully, “Sister Gatekeeper, and Uncle Duncan!”
Annie cheerfully greeted the two familiar faces before her. However, after her exclamation, as if recalling something, she promptly straightened her posture and turned her gaze towards Agatha, “Mum mentioned that I should address you as either Gatekeeper or Archbishop…”
“It’s alright, you can call me whatever you feel comfortable with.” Agatha chuckled, reaching out to gently pat Annie’s hat, “Aren’t you cold?”
“Not at all,” Annie shook her head, then she grasped Agatha’s hand and pointed towards the cottage not too far away.
“Your hands are freezing. Come warm up by the fire. I’ve also brewed some herbal tea.”
Agatha instinctively prepared to politely decline the offer, but noticed that Duncan had already begun sauntering towards the cottage. Surprised, she paused and decided to accompany him. Inside the tidy and modest guard’s house, a fire blazed heartily, the firewood in the hearth crackling and hissing. Steam billowed from the tea stove adjacent to it, and the warmth carried the clear scent and bitter undertones of the herbs. Annie poured two cups of steaming tea and extended the heated cups towards Duncan and Agatha, “I prepared this for the church guardians who will drop by later. Even if you don’t drink it, you can use it to warm your hands.”
Only now did the girl seem to recall that the ‘Sister Gatekeeper’ in front of her was already deceased.
Agatha didn’t take offense and thanked her, letting the cup in her hand gradually warm those fingers.
“Are you feeling warmer now?” Annie inquired again.
The teacup and fire were also cold in her world, but Agatha offered her a gentle smile: “Much warmer.”
Then, she observed Duncan periodically glancing around.
“What are you looking for?” she questioned him, bemused.
“I believe this could be a nice place to settle.”
Duncan withdrew his gaze from scanning the room and spoke to Agatha, “After all, maintaining an avatar like this in a house seems somewhat extravagant.”
Agatha looked taken aback, gradually understanding his implication. A look of astonishment washed over her face: “You… are you…?”
“The Vanished needs to carry on with its voyage, and this incarnation of mine that resides in the city also requires a place to call home.”
Duncan stated nonchalantly, “There’s no need to fuss about finding a new guard, this could save you quite a bit of effort!”
