Chapter 446: A Pleasure to Be a Father

As soon as Duncan stepped into the grandeur of his captain’s quarters, he found himself pausing, his attention irresistibly drawn to the commotion resonating from the forward part of the ship. The sounds emanating from there were undeniably those of Shirley and Dog, engaged in their usual playful mischief. However, there were no warning signs, no alarms to indicate an emergency.

“They’re turning their responsibilities into a circus act again, aren’t they?” Duncan whispered to himself, a small grin spreading across his face. His attention then shifted toward the expansive nautical map that spread across a large table, depicting the endless waters they sailed upon.

The wooden figure that served as his helmsman, sitting dutifully at the navigation desk, made a creaking noise as it turned its head toward Duncan. Crafted from oak, its eyes were made of obsidian, so dark they appeared bottomless. Yet, as Duncan entered, they seemed to glow softly, lighting up at the sight of their captain. “Ah, the magnificent Captain Duncan honors his faithful first mate with his esteemed company! Today’s catch is—”

“Skip the catch,” Duncan interrupted, eyeing the wooden carved goat head that functioned as the figure’s head. “With the recent disturbances in the Frost region, I’d be surprised if we could fish anything worth mentioning.”

The talking goat head hesitated, its wooden neck emitting a series of creaks as it tilted left and right in a momentary confusion. Finally, it spoke, “Ah, well, if fish are not to be had, at least the morning is calm, Sir. The wind is gentle, the sun is generous; it’s a splendid day for a voyage. We could chart a course for Cold Harbor, if you’re inclined.”

“I’ve no inclination to get the Vanished anywhere close to a city-state at this point,” Duncan said, cutting the rambling goat head short. His eyes moved slowly over the large sea map that dominated his quarters.

A ghostly mist hovered over the map, weaving and dancing lazily. A clearly marked route indicated their northward progression. Symbols on the map represented their ship, the Vanished, docked near the icy city-state of Frost and situated at the edge of where the Sea Mist was parked, which glowed in a haunting green light on the map.

“The Sea Mist seems rather tranquil today,” Duncan observed, a half-smile forming on his lips as if a satisfying thought had occurred to him. “It would appear that things are proceeding without a hitch.”

“Without a hitch? Captain, are you brewing another one of your magnificent strategies?” The goat head was instantly alert, its wooden neck stretching closer to the map in anticipation. “What’s afoot? Are you aiming to destabilize the already frail city-state? Or perhaps you’re thinking of reclaiming the renegade ship, the Sea Mist? Your plans are nothing short of—”

Duncan cut off the wooden first mate with a sidelong glance. “Is that really all your imagination can produce? Plots of thievery and subversion? Have you never considered more virtuous alternatives?”

Caught off guard, the wooden goat head took a moment to recalibrate its assumptions. “Might you be intending to help Frost stabilize its governance during this tumultuous period? Or perhaps you’re planning to steer Tyrian away from his rebellious tendencies and guide him back to a more righteous course?”

Duncan raised an eyebrow at the goat head. “Where did you get those ideas?”

“Captain, you may overlook it, but I do have some capacity for observation. During our time together, I’ve gained a deeper understanding of your character,” the goat head replied, its voice tinged with a curious mix of pride and comfort. Its obsidian eyes remained expressionless as it turned its wooden neck deliberately. “You’re not the type to simply ignore what’s happening in Frost. Unlike Pland, Frost is deeply wounded by the ongoing calamities. Neglecting it could trigger catastrophic repercussions, and you—”

The wooden goat head paused, its creaking neck momentarily still as it searched for the right words. Then, with a tone of unexpected sincerity, it spoke again: “And you, you’re a man whose heart is imbued with compassion.”

Duncan didn’t respond right away. He studied the goat head, its eyes as black as if crafted from voids that could absorb all light. After a protracted silence, he finally spoke, “You’re quite observant.”

For a moment, the goat head seemed to tighten, emitting a low creaking sound. “That sounds like something one might say just before... permanently silencing a witness.”

But Duncan just laughed, shaking his head dismissively. “You still haven’t quite figured me out, have you? I appreciate observant company. Saves me a great deal of trouble.”

With a casual wave, Duncan dismissed the goat head and stood up, directing his gaze to an ornate, antique round mirror positioned nearby.

Duncan simply watched Tyrian, saying nothing.

Tyrian shrugged, “I also don’t want to see a land once under the protection of Queen Ray Nora descend into a long and irreversible period of darkness.”

Duncan still remained silent.

Finally, Tyrian sighed, a note of resignation in his voice. “That’s it.”

“That’s good. Honesty is especially valuable when you’re in front of me,” Duncan said, resuming his earlier, more relaxed posture. “So, what’s your current situation?”

“They’ve offered me the governorship,” Tyrian admitted, his smile tinged with a mix of emotions. “They’ve even drafted a slew of contingency plans for me.”

Duncan paused for a moment, deep in thought. Eventually, he exhaled softly, “That’s a bit bolder than I had anticipated.”

Tyrian looked at him expectantly, “Do you have any advice for me?”

“Why would you need my advice?” Duncan chuckled. “You’ve followed the Frost Queen and commanded the Mist Fleet for half a century, interacting with every city-state in these treacherous waters. I hardly think I can instruct you on ‘how to be a governor.'”

“I’d still like to hear your thoughts,” Tyrian insisted.

Duncan took a moment before speaking softly, “Just do your best. In a world as unforgiving as ours, there’s very little else for people to fall back on.”

“I understand,” Tyrian nodded.

“Hmm,” Duncan acknowledged before suddenly shifting his attention to the sea map beside him. “There’s also one more thing.”

Tyrian immediately sat up, attentive. “What would you have me do?”

Duncan’s eyes lingered on the map, where the phantom image of the White Oak was becoming increasingly visible, its position almost overlapping with that of the Sea Mist.

He turned back to Tyrian and flashed a quick smile. “Brace yourself.”

Tyrian looked puzzled. “What?”

With a casual wave of his hand, Duncan extinguished the ethereal fire in the mirror. As the mirror’s luminosity dimmed, Tyrian’s voice reverberated from its other side, sounding both bewildered and anxious. “Wait, what’s happening?!”Discover new chapters at novelhall.com