Frost is a very cold place, and for eighty percent of the year, the city-state is bathed in the turbulent winds of the cold sea, which is constantly blowing in from the frozen sea farther north, whistling over the frosty walls and steep coastal cliffs, a chill that discourages many.

However, Frost is also the largest city-state in the entire Cold Sea, and despite the cold, the center of this huge island has the richest reserves of boiling gold mines in the north, which is the most vital component of the steam core, and can even be regarded as the industrial base of the present era, and the industrial system built around the boiling gold mines supports the operation of the northern city-state, bringing it endless wealth and prosperity.

and death.

Frosty, at the edge of the mining area, at the entrance to the city-state cemetery, a black steam car has not yet been turned off, and under the bright gas street lamp, several corpse deliverers in thick black robes are working together to lift a coffin out of the car, and a tall thin figure in a black robe is standing next to the car, the whole face of this figure is hidden in the shadow of the wide-brimmed top hat, and in the shadows, one bandage after another can be seen.

A few steps away, a shriveled old man with a slightly hunched body, as if shrouded in a low shadow, stood by the entrance of the cemetery, indifferently watching the corpses busy.

The corpse deliverers from the Church of the Dead were exceptionally silent, not making a single sound during the process of carrying the coffin, only the occasional slight bump sounded, making the already gloomy cemetery even more eerie and deadly silence.

After a long time, the old man who was guarding the cemetery finally broke the silence: "The cause of death? ”

"Fell into the shaft," the tall thin figure wrapped in bandages spoke, and it turned out to be a slightly hoarse female voice, sounding very young, "Died on the spot, has been baptized." The details are on the handover documents, and you can see for yourself. ”

"How long?" The old man's expression and tone did not change, as if he was discussing a stone that was about to be moved into his room.

The tall, thin figure covered in bandages quietly glanced at the gloomy old man.

"Three days," she replied briefly, "three days of purification, and then a melting pot." ”

"It's short enough." The caretaker snorted from his nose and glanced up at the cemetery gate next to it, the dark carved iron fence gate stood like a cold, sharp thorn in the light and night, and on the opposite side of the gate, which symbolized the separation between life and death, there were many neat morgues, narrow paths between morgues, and shadowy tombstones and huts in the depths.

This is a cemetery, but for most of the corpses sent to the cemetery, this is not their permanent resting place - except for a few long graves of special significance, the dead stay here only temporarily, from the officials of the city-state to the pawns of the peddlers, no one can get around the rules here.

They died, were temporarily sent to the cemetery, and gradually calmed down under the gaze of the god of death, Bartoc, for a few days, as long as ten days and half a month, and then they were sent into the melting pot adjacent to the cemetery, and the sins of life were turned into the smoke and dust of the sky, and the good deeds of life were melted into the neighing of the steam pipes, and a little residue was scattered into the land of the city-state, and there was no more left in the world.

Only a small tombstone will be reserved for them in the cemetery – very small, and it will soon be piled up in the depths of more tombstones.

"The dead can't take over the place of the living," the bandaged woman shook her head, "for the dead who are 'clean and innocent' in the process of dying, three days is enough time for the soul to regain peace. ”

"Not just for that reason, right?" The keeper of the shadow owl raised his eyes, and his yellow, cloudy eyeballs quietly stared at the "bandaged woman" in front of him in a thick black coat, "You are worried about the corpse getting up—just like the recent rumors. ”

"There is no evidence yet that the dead in the city-state are really 'resurrected', and there are contradictions in the current reports, but even if it is only a short-lived resurgence of the 'restless' phenomenon, it is worth being wary," the bandaged woman shook her head, "so keep an eye on your cemetery, as for the affairs in the city-state, the church and the town hall will take care of it." ”

"I wish things were as simple as you say, Agatha," muttered the caretaker, "I can guarantee that no body will ever come out of this garden, but you and your comrades will have a much larger 'cemetery' to guard than my little garden." ”

The corpse bearers carried the coffin into the cemetery, and these silent black-clad figures walked through the paths of the cemetery like corpses, and they found the vacant morgue prepared in advance, placed the coffin on the platform, and then stood at the four corners of the coffin, ready to perform the pacification ritual of Bartoc, the god of death.

The caretaker and the black-clad goddess known as "Agatha" followed them into the cemetery and to the morgue.

The four carriers took out Bartók's charm, a triangular metal emblem with a door-like relief symbolizing the door of life and death in the center, placed the charm on the four corners of the coffin, chanted a short prayer in unison, and then stepped back half a step.

Agatha stepped forward, took off her wide-brimmed top hat, and gazed at the coffin on the morgue in the cold wind.

The glow of a gas street lamp illuminated her appearance.

Layers of bandages wrapped around her body, even covering half of her face, only where the bandages were not covered, you could still see some delicate and feminine soft lines, a long dark brown hair with slightly curls was scattered behind her head, and there was only calm and compassion in the same dark brown eyes.

"May the grace of Bartók, the god of death, brace your soul and restore peace to your last three days on earth...... Your karmic debts with the world are written off today, and you can travel lightly to the lost......"

Agatha's low, hoarse prayer echoed through the silent cemetery, fading into the deep night.

The steward, with a gloomy temperament, stood aside and watched the ceremony indifferently, with a heavy-looking double-barreled shotgun in his hand, and a triangular emblem symbolizing Bartók, the god of death, could be faintly seen on the handguard of the shotgun.

After a few moments, the ceremony ended, and Agatha turned to look at the cemetery guard, "It's done." ”

"I hope your prayers are effective," the caretaker said, holding the double-barreled shotgun in his hand, "though I trust myself more as an 'old partner'." ”

"The pacification ritual performed by me, the 'gatekeeper' himself, should have some effect," Agatha said lightly, and then put on her dark wide-brimmed hat again, nodded to the cemetery guard, and led the corpses to the exit of the cemetery, "We should leave." ”

Bartók's followers departed, and the pitch-black steam car faded away in the night, until the taillights faded into the city's night.

The cold night breeze blew through the cemetery, through the rows of morgues and the carved iron fence on the edge of the cemetery, and the gloomy old man stood at the door, looking in the direction of the hearse's departure, before he withdrew his gaze and tightened his clothes in the cold wind.

"The living are finally gone, and I'm really not used to being so lively in the cemetery."

He muttered, clutching his trusty double-barreled shotgun, and walked slowly to his caretaker's hut on the edge of the morgue.

After a few moments, the old man came out of the hut again, this time with one more thing in his hand.

A small pink and white flower picked out of nowhere.

He went to the newest coffin, picked up a stone from the side, and pressed the little flower to a corner of the morgue.

The night breeze blew through the path, blowing the delicate petals and shivering in the wind, and in the rows of nearby morgues, you could see the same small flower pressed against the inconspicuous corner.

Most of the flowers have withered in the wind.

"Sleep, sleep well, it's hard to sleep so well when you're alive," the old caretaker muttered, "Your family will come to greet you tomorrow morning, according to the rules, say goodbye to them, and leave in peace, the world of the living is not so good......

The old man shook his head, bent down and grabbed the double-barreled shotgun, turned and walked away slowly.

……

"We're sailing north, and our destination is Frost," Duncan found Vana on the deck of the Lost Land, who was looking at the distant sea in a daze, and greeted him, "I see you've been looking into the distance in a daze, guess you're curious about the ship's course." ”

"Frost?" Vana was a little surprised, she was indeed guessing the next trip of the Lost Country, but she didn't expect Captain Duncan to take the initiative to mention this matter to her, "Why Frost?" Is there something going on over there? ”

"It started when Morris received a letter, a letter from a deceased friend," Duncan said to the edge of deck, holding his hands on the railing on the side of the ship, looking out at the endless sea in the distance, "but more because I had become interested there." ”

"You're interested?"

"In a sense, Frost is Alice's 'hometown,'" Duncan said with a laugh, "even though she doesn't have that concept at all." ”

“…… I don't know much about Frost, except that the main belief there is Bartók, the god of death, but there are also some believers in the goddess of storms, and the industry seems to be very developed in the area of Frost, and the biggest economic pillar of the entire city-state is the boiling gold mine......"

Vanna paused at this point, then subconsciously glanced in the direction of the cabin.

"Of course, Frost is best known for the rebellion half a century ago - Alice doesn't mind anyone talking about that, does she?"

"She doesn't mind—because she doesn't understand at all."

“…… All right. ”

(End of chapter)