Ashes Of Deep Sea

Chapter 343: Chapter 347: Silent Sanctum Chapter 343: Chapter 347: Silent Sanctum The Mist Fleet had arrived, moving out in full force.

For the past half a century, this infamous Cursed Fleet had always hung over the heads of the Frostfolk like a sharp blade—it was the legacy of the Frost Queen, an unvanishing shadow after the great rebellion half a century ago, standing like a colossal iceberg in the Chill Sea, its cold and hard shell concealing the unpredictable mind of the undead pirate general.

Whenever it was mentioned, the people of the Frost City-State couldn’t help but lower their voices.

Almost everyone familiar with history knew that the success of the rebellion in Frost a half-century ago, the triumph of the ragtag rebels over the strongest queen’s fleet in history, didn’t rely on “justice” or “protection”—their victory was chiefly because the queen’s main fleet wasn’t around Frost Island at that time.

No one knew why the Sea Mist Fleet had left back then, just as no one knew what truths the Frost Queen had gleaned from the depths of the sea. People only knew one thing—even today, that fleet still operated under the name of the Queen.

For half a century, the mighty Sea Mist Fleet had wandered like a ghost through these northern seas. Although different city-states attempted to eradicate or recover this fleet, they never succeeded. On the other hand, though the undead manned Cursed Warships traversed the Chill Sea, most encounters with these ships only required the payment of money to avoid disaster. Compared to losses incurred from direct combat with the Sea Mist Fleet, this “toll” seemed like a charitable and economical tax—the northern city-states would rather pay for peace than risk repaying Frost’s debt from half a century ago themselves.

But the Frostfolk knew the Mist Fleet would one day return; it was like a curse, even becoming a “legendary prophecy” many Frostfolk were bathed in from childhood—
As long as the flags of the Mist Fleet still flew, the rule of the Frost Queen over this city-state hadn’t ended; as long as the engines of the “Sea Mist” were still running, the reckoning of the grand rebellion from fifty years ago would inevitably fall upon this city.

The impact of curses and legends passed down by word of mouth was profound, and the cold shadow of the Mist Fleet became ever more terrifying under the yearly reinforcement of these legends, to the point that even well-trained professional soldiers could not ignore this pressure.

Lister’s fingers clutched the documents, turning slightly white at the knuckles.

As he finished speaking, an eerie silence enveloped the entire dock.

This defense commander knew that intelligence on the Mist Fleet didn’t need to be kept secret—the huge fleet was sailing openly near Frost, drawing ever closer to Frost Island and Dagger Island. By tomorrow morning when the sun rose, residents near the coastline merely needed to open their windows, pick up a telescope, and look to the southeast to see those blurry ship silhouettes—this news would soon spread throughout the entire City-State.

“The Sea Mist Fleet… Does its sudden appearance relate to the events on Dagger Island?” a trusted officer asked, “Or does it have something to do with that ‘Sea Swallow’ that appeared out of nowhere?”

“I would prefer if they were related, at least then we’d only be facing one problem,” Lister gritted his teeth, “but what’s worse is that these could be two separate issues…”

Another trusted officer sounded a bit anxious, “Could the Mist Fleet be seizing the opportunity to plunder during the threat of unknown forces on Frost Island?”

“It’s too early to make any conclusions. Executing orders is our top priority,” Lister quickly interjected, cutting off his subordinates’ wild speculations, “Immediately arrange for lockdown, send out a martial law signal to the surrounding city-states and ships on the route, all coastal artillery emplacements on standby… We might be in big trouble.”

…

In the heart of Frost City-State, as with most maritime city-states, the grand and towering cathedral stood at the highest, most central location within the city.

Locals called it the Silent Sanctum, or simply “the Cathedral.”

It was an ancient and majestic building, almost entirely constructed from various gray and black bricks, with an assortment of spires and elongated structures forming its body. On snowy winter days, these overlapping spires, backed by the snow drifting in the sky, appeared blurred from a distance, resembling tombstones and black swords thrusting into the sky.

Newcomers to Frost City-State often felt the cathedral was excessively somber and oppressive, even somewhat terrifying, but for the Frostfolk, who nearly universally worshipped the god of death, Bartok, this black cathedral represented only majesty and holiness.

The locals firmly believed the cathedral’s towering spires were a bridge between the realm of death and the mortal world, and when days of heavy snowfall came, the messengers of the god of death would hide among these spires and rooftops, using their all-seeing eyes to watch over the city-state, timely ushering lost souls back to their places of rest.

Thus, the Frostfolk deemed the first day of heavy snowfall “the day for long-lost souls to find their path”; they would close the cemeteries and pause the sending off of the newly dead on this day, to leave a sufficiently spacious path for those long-lost souls to promptly reach the Silent Sanctum.

Today was a day of heavy snowfall.

The surrounding cemeteries were closed, the Cathedral no longer admitted ordinary people besides the clergy, and the continuously falling snow made the courtyard walkway quieter than ever, making even the sound of snowflakes falling from the tree branches exceptionally clear.

Wearing a broad-brimmed hat and dressed in black, Agatha crossed the courtyard gate of the cathedral, entered the audience hall, and continued deeper until she finally reached the sanctum where the Bishop meditated.

Like Prand, the highest ecclesiastical spokesperson in Frost also had two roles—”the Gatekeeper” was the guardian of the city-state’s security, mainly responsible for secular affairs, while the City-State Bishop dealt primarily with clerical work and communication with the higher ecclesiastical authorities.

Inside the Silent Sanctum, the walls on either side were lined with densely packed niches where candles flickered. The pale light emitted by countless candles brightened the room considerably. At the far end of the sanctum stood a tall stone platform; however, instead of a holy figure or a seat, there rested an ancient-looking black coffin.

That was where the City-State Bishop resided.

Agatha walked up to the platform and looked down, then said, “I have returned.”

There was silence inside the coffin.

Agatha waited patiently for a few seconds, then spoke a bit louder, “Bishop Ivan, have you heard about the appearance of the Mist Fleet?”

Still, there was no response from the coffin.

Agatha frowned slightly, looked around, and after a brief hesitation, finally raised her staff and tapped on the side of the coffin, “Are you there?”

After tapping three times, an old, hoarse voice finally emanated from inside the coffin, “Yes, stop knocking. Show some respect for the elderly.”

Agatha put away her staff, “… were you praying to the god of death and fell asleep?”

“I was too immersed in my meditation, not hearing the voices from the mundane world.”

“But your snoring could be heard through the coffin board into the mundane world.”

“Ah? Was it that loud?”

Agatha sighed, “You indeed fell asleep, Bishop.”

The voice inside the coffin suddenly quieted down. After a few seconds, there was a slight rustling noise breaking the silence as the dark lid of the coffin slid open slightly, revealing just a sliver, and the old, raspy voice became a bit clearer, “Your heart is troubled, Agatha; it seems things are not going well in the City-State.”

“On my way back to the cathedral, I received news that the Mist Fleet was approaching the City-State,” Agatha slowly said, “I fear this news might soon…”

“The matters of the Mist Fleet should be left for the navy and the city hall to worry about. Your focus should be on the balance of Transcendent realms and the peace within the City-State,” the voice of Ivan Romonzo, the City-State Bishop, came from the coffin, “Let’s discuss the situation within the City-State first.”

Hearing this, Agatha nodded and temporarily set aside the news of the Mist Fleet, then her expression became grave.

“At 42 Fireplace Street, a new site of Prime Element contamination appeared. According to various signs, a counterfeit composed of Prime Elements had been living in that building for a long time until it recently disintegrated and vanished. Additionally, a civilian clearly affected by cognitive interference was found at the scene…”

“Cognitive interference?” Bishop Ivan interrupted Agatha’s discourse, “What kind of cognitive interference?”

Agatha organized her words and began, “After reviewing the local population registration, we discovered that the counterfeit’s ‘real identity’ had actually died in a shipwreck six years ago. However, during the period of the counterfeit’s activity… the woman apprentice living with it never noticed this obvious anomaly. Even until the counterfeit disintegrated and vanished and the investigators entered the scene, she still believed her teacher was resting upstairs.”

Agatha paused for a moment, then continued, “And… our discoveries didn’t stop there.”

“More than that?”

“A third-party force—identity unknown, yet extremely powerful—seems to also be investigating the Prime Elements. Their combatants killed two quite capable heretic priests in a nearby alley, while their investigators had searched the building before a squad of elite guards arrived. Unfortunately, we found no clues, and we can’t even confirm where this third-party force comes from.”

Silence fell inside the coffin, and it lasted for an indeterminable amount of time before Ivan’s voice was heard again, “Any other news?”

“Yes,” Agatha took a light breath, “do you remember the ‘Visitor’ that appeared in Cemetery no. 3?”

“… It has appeared again?!”

“Yes, it has appeared again, and not only that, it also left behind a letter… a ‘whistleblower letter.'”