Ashes Of Deep Sea

Chapter 312: Chapter 316 “Going Home

The atmosphere on the deck suddenly turned a bit awkward, a palpable silence falling between Fenna and Tyrion, with the latter still showing an expression of shock, while the former had already covered her forehead with a hand.

The silence was eventually broken by a voice not far away. A few meters off, Sherry elbowed Nina, “See, I told you the first sentence would definitely be that—you owe me two scoops of ice cream.”

“Okay, okay, you guessed it,” Nina muttered, “Two it is… I’ll replenish it at Frost.”

Sherry immediately widened her eyes, “I’m not a fool! Eating ice cream in a place that’s tens of degrees below zero? We’ll talk again back at Prand!”

Tyrion blinked, only then noticing the other people on the deck, and the subtly different atmosphere from what he had imagined. He first saw the girl named Sherry, whom he had met once before, then noticed the Abyssal Hound lazily basking in the sun by her feet, and beside them, another girl who looked to be about sixteen or seventeen, along with an elderly gentleman with white hair and a refined demeanor.

Everyone had a smile on their face.

Behind these people was the deck of Homeloss, its bulwarks, masts, and sails.

The yellowed, fragmented images from his childhood, memories of playing mischievously with siblings, all the pleasant and unpleasant impressions, seemed like they were gradually emerging from some dim, lost cavern, and gaining back their color in the thin sunlight filtering through the fog.

There were a few new faces here, but this was still the same ship from his memories—not the eerie, decaying Ghost Ship he had imagined at first.

At least, the deck still looked so familiar.

Tyrion knew he was zoning out, and knew he should say something, but couldn’t stop his thoughts from spreading continuously. He was aware of his tendency to daydream since childhood, and whenever he daydreamed on the deck, his father would always suddenly appear from somewhere and scold behind him—

“Tyrion, what are you daydreaming about?”

The pirate captain visibly shuddered, the momentary disarray between memory and reality even causing his thoughts to freeze for a few seconds, then turned hesitantly to see a tall and imposing figure standing behind him.

Not a shadow floating in the mirror, not a blurred silhouette seen across the distant sea and artillery fire, but standing face-to-face…

“Sorry, Father,” Tyrion instinctively spoke, “I was a bit distracted.”

Duncan frowned.

Perhaps it was an illusion, but he felt that Tyrion’s demeanor at that moment was very subtle, quite different from the impression left during their previous encounters, yet vaguely familiar. However, Duncan quickly reassured himself.

After all, this was the first face-to-face conversation after being apart for a century, and the first return to this ship—it was normal for the other to react this way.

Meanwhile, Fenna, silent due to awkwardness for quite a while, finally spoke up, “Captain Tyrion, about my presence here, I need to clarify my identity—first off, things are not as you think, I’m here on Homeloss because of an assignment from the church…”

“Assigned by the church?” Tyrion was even more baffled than before, then swiftly turned his head towards his father, “You…”

“I didn’t bring the church down—focus your thoughts, Tyrion,” Duncan interrupted before the other could speak, “Do I need to emphasize again? I’m no longer an enemy of the civilized world, you should meet me more openly, not as if on guard against a calamity that could wreak havoc at any moment.”

Tyrion, “I… apologize.”

“I accept your apology—let’s walk and talk,” Duncan waved his hand, stepping towards the stern of the deck, “About Miss Fenna’s presence here, the matter with the Obsidian, and the Dagger Island—there’s much we need to talk about.”

He then turned back and waved to a few bystanders who were curiously watching nearby, “Uninvolved parties should attend to their own business, don’t crowd around here.”

Tyrion followed Duncan somewhat befuddled, heading towards the direction of the captain’s quarters in his memory, with Fenna walking silently on the other side.

The images from his memories and the scene before his eyes split and merged, sometimes overlapping, sometimes creating a stark dissonance.

Returning to Homeloss, everything from the outset seemed to deviate from predicted trajectories.

Tyrion instinctively looked around, observing the ship’s situation, searching for things that corroborated his memories, and also looking for a presence that should theoretically be here.

Of course, Duncan noticed these small actions, “Are you looking for Alice?”

Tyrion froze for a moment, then remembered the puppet lady’s name—he always thought she was still “Lei Nora”, “Ah, yes, is she on board?”

“She is, but she’s probably busy in the kitchen at this time,” Duncan nodded, “Alice is in charge of the ship’s meals, you can try her cooking today—we have fresh vegetables and newly caught fish, which are rare on ordinary ocean voying ships.”

“Rations…” Tyrion unconsciously repeated the term, almost blurting out “Father actually eats human food too,” but the very next second, a string of exclamations and the sound of panicked footsteps suddenly came from not far away, interrupting his daydream.

“Help help help help help help help—”

That was Alice’s exclamation.

Stunned, Tyrion looked towards the source of the sound and saw the gothic doll running hysterically across the deck not far away, brandishing a kitchen knife, with a wooden barrel full of carrots and greens bouncing along behind her.

Duncan watched expressionlessly as Alice ran back and forth on the deck, watched as Nina and Sherry ran to help but failed, and finally, it turned into three people and a dog being chased chaotically on the deck by a barrel of vegetables. He then patted Tyrion on the shoulder.

“Sometimes, it gets quite lively here.”

Tyrion turned back with a puzzled face, his mouth twitching slightly, “…are the ingredients on board a bit too fresh?”

“It’s because of the barrel—it has its own opinions about storing vegetables, and therefore, it often clashes with Alice ideologically.”

“Don’t you need help?”

“No, Alice is broad-minded.”

“But it looked like she was asking for your help…”

“It’s alright, I am broad-minded.”

Tyrion’s expression seemed a bit stiff, even though he was the commander of an entire Undead Fleet, he seemed to struggle to keep up with the daily pace of the Homeloss.

Duncan was not surprised by this, he just patted Tyrion on the shoulder: “You need to learn to adapt—if I had to help every time Alice cries for help, I’d get nothing done all day. As it turns out, her own resilience and vitality are quite strong.”

Tyrion wanted to say more, but they had already reached the captain’s cabin.

In all memories of childhood and adulthood, this was the most impressive place on the entire ship.

During his childhood, his father’s captain’s cabin was a mysterious and slightly terrifying room. He and Lucricia could fool around in most places on the ship, but they were strictly forbidden from entering here. Even the most friendly sailor on board would mercilessly block the siblings from the door.

After becoming an adult, his father’s captain’s cabin was a tense and serious place. Even after becoming captains of the Sea Mist and Brilliant Starship respectively, Tyrion and Lucricia would still instinctively tense up upon entering—his father formulated all the grand exploration plans here, marked newly discovered islands and anomalies by the Exiled Fleet on sea maps, and managed the planning and dispatching of the entire fleet, while most of the time, he and his sister were just responsible for listening and executing orders.

His father did not like suggestions; in his memory, he was a decisive and stubborn man.

The door opened, and the dimly lit indoor environment compared to the deck came into Tyrion’s view.

The next second, his gaze fell on the edge of the navigation table, landing on a black and eerie goat’s head.

The black goat’s head with a wooden texture creaked and turned towards him, a pair of hollow, deep obsidian eyeballs staring steadily at the visitor who had stepped into the place.

“Hello, nice to meet you, Mr. Tyrion.”

Tyrion was startled, turning his head reflexively: “This is…”

“This is the current first mate of the Homeloss, trustworthy,” Duncan introduced, “you can just call it Goat’s Head.”

“First mate?” Tyrion blinked, then turned back to look at the eerie ‘wood carving,’ suppressing the strangeness welling up in his heart, he accepted his father’s explanation, tentatively greeting the other, “Hello, Goat’s Head… Mr.?”

The Goat’s Head shook its neck, seemingly preparing to say something, but the next second, Duncan smoothly interrupted in advance: “Shut up, keep quiet while we’re talking.”

Tyrion looked at Duncan, bewildered.

“When you talk with it, you must know how to interrupt in advance—don’t let it talk recklessly, that’s my advice.”

Hearing his father’s warning, Tyrion’s expression quickly turned serious.

To make the formidable “Captain Duncan” treat it with such seriousness and caution, this Goat’s Head indeed appeared as eerie and dangerous as its outward appearance.

Naturally, Tyrion treated the Goat’s Head as some sort of extremely dangerous “anomaly,” and silencing it evidently was the required procedure to seal this unusual entity…

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