In the era of sailing warships a century ago, shipbuilders in various city-states had a rule when building ships - they had to cut a piece of wood from the original wood when processing the keel.

They would carbonize, soak, and oil the wood in the same way as they would a keel, and place it on the slipway together with the unfinished ship. After the ship was built, the "keel wood" would be left in the shipyard and permanently preserved on land. Usually, ship owners would pay an extra sum of money to ask priests in the city-state to perform blessing ceremonies for the wood regularly, or simply send it to the church and ask the church to keep and care for it.

Initially, this practice of retaining "keel samples" was part of the quality specification, and ship owners used it to check whether the keel material selection and initial processing procedures could meet the technical requirements of a ship. Later, it became a symbol of praying for peace.

People believe that ships have souls, and keel bones left on land will bring good luck to ships on voyages. They are like lighthouses, allowing lost ships to find their way back to the coast. The blessings bestowed on the keel wood by the priests can also be bestowed on the ships on the voyage. If misfortune really happens, the keel bones left on the shore will turn into ferry boats in the world of the dead, bringing the sailors' souls back to their hometown.

In the past, when a ship was confirmed to be wrecked, the priests of the God of Death would even take out the keel wood left on the shore and hold a "funeral". The families of the wrecked crew would bid farewell to the wood as if it were the remains of a loved one, and watch it being sent into the incinerator.

Out of interest, Agatha once described to Duncan in detail the scene of the death priests "seeing off" the dragon bone sample a hundred years ago.

In fact, this custom is still preserved today, but with the development of the times, people do not necessarily choose to preserve the keel samples of the ship. Many times, young captains prefer to keep part of the pipes cut during the installation of the steam core in the shipyard or church.

Duncan stared quietly at the piece of wood in the box.

The Lost Homeland was a ship built a hundred years ago. No matter how special it is today, when it was in the shipyard, it was constructed according to the standards and customs of ordinary ships.

Craftsmen from a hundred years ago preserved samples of its keel.

It was not the ancient god's spine of today, but the "small branch" that originally belonged to the Lost Homeland and was found by Duncan Abnomer in the fog near the border.

Duncan reached out and carefully picked up the ordinary-looking piece of wood.

He suddenly widened his eyes slightly: "No weight?!"

The "weight" of the dragon bone sample surprised him. It was too light...even the word "light" was far from enough to describe it. As he blurted out, this piece of wood seemed to have no weight at all. When he held it in his hand, it was even lighter than a speck of dust!

However, Duncan clearly saw that the surface of the black satin that was originally used to place the wooden blocks in the box had obvious indentations, which were the marks caused by the wood.

"Yes, it has no weight - but only when held in the hand," Bishop Valentine's voice came from the side. "When placed on the weighing table, it weighs 0.7 kilograms. When a living person holds it in the hand, it weighs 0 milligrams. But it was not like this at first - according to records, it was no different from ordinary wood when it was just cut from the dragon bone wood. I mean in terms of 'weight'."

Duncan frowned. Even though he already had the answer in his mind, he couldn't help but ask, "...When did the change happen?"

"On the day when the Lost Homeland fell into the warp," Valentine replied, "a lot of things happened on that day. Many of the things were investigated and confirmed after people recovered from the chaos. In addition to the fact that this keel sample lost its 'weight' in the hands of a living person, we also found that apart from this sample, all other wood cut from the original keel of the Lost Homeland disappeared."

The old bishop paused for a moment and explained further, "The 'raw material' you brought to Plande was a very large piece of wood. After it was processed into a keel, a large amount of leftover wood was still enough for many other uses. According to records, some of them were processed into various items on the Lost Homeland, and the rest were stored in the shipyard's warehouse. Some of the remaining wood was taken away by you several years later and used to make the figureheads and steering wheels of the 'Sea Mist' and the 'Brilliant Star'. The remaining wood was unusable and remained in the warehouse until... the day of the 'accident'."

As he spoke, the old man took a step forward and pointed at the big box in front of Duncan.

"The relevant records are also included here."

"The Sea Mist and Brilliant Star were also built in Plande? And they used the keel remnants of the Lost Homeland? Are their construction records still available?"

"Unfortunately, the construction records of the two ships were burned to ashes along with their 'keel samples' in the fire at the shipyard that year," Valentine shook his head. "People say that was the beginning of the curse on the two ships - the storm raised by the Lost Homeland in the warp destroyed the 'anchors' left by the Sea Mist and the Brilliant Star on land. From then on, the two ships gradually became what they are now."

At this point, the old bishop suddenly felt something was wrong and coughed twice: "Ahem, I hope you don't mind, these are..."

"It doesn't matter. You're just stating what happened - and I took the initiative to ask," Duncan shook his head and said, "and now I have a good relationship with the children. That's all in the past."

As he spoke, he turned his attention back to the weightless "dragon bone sample" in his hand.

There are many things that I finally figured out today.

Everything seemed like a mess, but it turned out to be just a thread connecting the beginning and the end. Now, the thread was finally in his hands.

"If you want to know more about what happened back then, I can try to find the elf craftsmen who participated in the construction of the Lost Homeland... but this may not be easy," Valentine noticed the change in Duncan's expression and spoke cautiously, "After all... the situation on the elves' side is not good right now."

"I know. I just want to solve this matter." Duncan exhaled softly, put aside his thoughts for the time being, and nodded to Valentine. "These are enough. I have got what I wanted. I will take this box away."

"Of course," Valentine nodded immediately, "It would be better if you could take it."

Of course Duncan knew why the other party said that. He just smiled, then put the wooden block back into the box properly and closed the box again.

However, just as he was about to summon Ai to send the box back to the Lost Homeland, he noticed Valentine's hesitant expression.

"Anything else?"

"Um..." Valentine was visibly nervous, and then hesitated for a few seconds before speaking, "Actually, I have been thinking about a question since just now, but I was afraid that you would find it offensive..."

"you say."

"...Fanna didn't cause any trouble on your ship, did she?"

"Trouble? Why do you say that?" Duncan felt puzzled. "She is a mature and stable person. She is very worry-free on the ship. What kind of trouble could there be?"

Valentine was stunned for a moment, then blurted out, "Didn't she break anything? She has a very straightforward personality, is hard to get along with, is very strong, and had few friends in the city..."

Duncan didn't say anything for a while. He first thought about Nina who was always startled, then about Shirley who was always in a mess because of a few papers, and Alice who would stew herself every now and then, as well as the pile of pots, pans, mops, buckets and even gunpowder cannons that were constantly making noises day and night on the ship...

"She's fine," he said to the old bishop with particular seriousness. "She's one of the quietest people on the ship. She only makes a little noise when she runs and exercises on the deck in the morning..."

Valentine: “……?”

The old bishop still seemed unable to imagine what it was like for Vanna to live on the Lost Homeland.

But Duncan had no intention of explaining further - he quickly summoned Ai and teleported the large wooden box directly to the distant Lost Homeland. Then he said goodbye to the old bishop and left the cathedral in a swagger.

In the brightly lit inner chapel, Valentine stood in front of the statue of the goddess of storms and was in a daze for a while. In a trance, he suddenly felt that what happened this morning was unreal.

This sacred place truly welcomed a shadow from the Warp - and now, that shadow left so peacefully.

It's like a dream.

"...Vanna."

"I'm here," Vanna's voice reached Valentine's ears before the psychic channel was closed, "Has the captain left?"

"...He just left." Valentine said.

Perhaps the hesitation and subtle emotions in the old bishop's tone were too obvious, and Vanna keenly noticed something was wrong: "What's wrong? Is there anything wrong?"

"That's not the case. I just feel something is a little weird..." Valentine said hesitantly, "Do you think... does this count as an invasion of the cathedral by the warp?"

Vanna obviously didn't expect the old bishop to say such a thing. She was silent for several seconds before responding uncertainly, "I... don't know either."

Valentine turned around and glanced at the statue of Gemona standing quietly in the candlelight: "The goddess doesn't seem to blame me."

"I don't think the goddess will blame you," Vanna said confidently, "After all, the captain was just visiting. If this really counts as an invasion, then the Death Cathedral in Frostbite is invaded by the Warp every Friday... and there's no movement there."

Valentine: “……?”