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It was evident that despite the undead engineers’ eerie, almost nightmarish look, there was a bubbling undercurrent of excitement and anticipation. Their every action conveyed a subtle touch of glee, even eagerness.

Interrupting Duncan’s observations was the approach of a broad-shouldered, bald man, visibly anxious. As he got closer, he crouched low in front of Duncan and nervously began, “Uh… Captain, it’s an honor to see you here…”

Duncan’s gaze shifted to the newcomer. Recognizing him from earlier briefings, he said, “You’re Aiden, aren’t you? A remnant from the time of the Vanished Fleet alongside Tyrian.”

A hint of a smile crossed Aiden’s face. “Yes, that’s me. So, you remember?”

Duncan replied, shaking his head slightly, “Not personally. My memory got scrambled during the subspace transit. But I’ve been briefed about you and the other ‘first phase sailors’ from the Mist Fleet.”

Aiden, visibly more nervous now, said, “No need for explanations. Having you back is… well, it’s a relief. The crew missed you.”

“They’re fearful too, right?” Duncan chuckled lightly, scanning the many faces in the hall. He noticed how many quickly looked away, avoiding his direct gaze. “It’s a good thing I’m here in this proxy form. If it were the real me, I reckon the sailors would be too unnerved to even work.”

Aiden admitted, hesitantly playing with his shirt buttons, “A lot of them are from the ‘second phase’ of recruits. Your reputation precedes you, Captain. Their first interaction with you was…”

“The Frost battle five decades ago,” Duncan completed the sentence, his voice softening. His contemplative silence was interrupted by Tyrian’s announcement.

“The submersible is primed and ready, Father.”

Duncan’s face broke into a genuine smile. “Then it’s time.” He stood up, joining Tyrian as they walked to the docking platform. The magnificent submersible symbolized countless hours of effort, ingenuity, and dedication, silently beckoning them to embark on their forthcoming adventure.

The open side hatch of the submersible was spherical and inviting. Beyond its formidable, waterproof barrier, the interior was bathed in the sharp glow of bright lights, revealing the vessel’s intricate design. Contrary to its vast external structure, the space inside seemed a bit tight. Given the dense tangle of pipes, valves, and a myriad of control panels, it looked like it could comfortably hold just three or four people.

Duncan peered into the vessel’s cozy interior, preparing to step inside. But suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks. Something caught his attention, prompting him to sharply turn his gaze in a specific direction.

Without warning, a swirling tornado of grey mists rushed into the hall, growing more ferocious as it approached the platform where the submersible was anchored. As the whirlwind reached its climax, it magically transformed into a familiar figure now standing face-to-face with Duncan and Tyrian.

From the remnants of the grey gust appeared Agatha. She looked much as she always did – the sightless nun adorned in a dark, flowing dress, her hair falling in thick waves over her shoulders.

“I wish to join you on this journey,” she stated, wasting no time in conveying her desire upon her dramatic entrance.

Duncan raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback. “You wish to explore the depths with us? May I ask why?”

Agatha responded with determination, “I must see for myself what mysteries lie hidden below Frost. As the gatekeeper of this city, I cannot just stay secluded within the cathedral’s walls, simply waiting to hear about your discoveries. Moreover…”

She hesitated, and for a brief moment, everything went silent. Slowly, she tilted her head upwards, her eyes concealed behind a black veil, making direct eye contact with Duncan.

“…This city belongs to the Frostians. It’s a matter of our heritage. At least one Frostian should represent us on a vessel that we have so painstakingly crafted. Think of my presence as a representation for Governor Winston and all those governors of Frost before him. I want to be there to witness the secrets below.”

Pondering for a second, Duncan replied, “It seems you’ve given this a lot of thought and are aware of the inherent risks. If you’re certain, I won’t stop you.”

Before he could consult Tyrian for his thoughts, Tyrian quickly interjected, “Given the submersible’s capacity to accommodate up to four people, having two shouldn’t be a problem, however…”

Gently interrupting Tyrian, Agatha mentioned, “Don’t worry, I don’t need to breathe.”

Pausing briefly, Tyrian took a step back and nodded in agreement, “Then we shouldn’t face any challenges.”

With a light-hearted chuckle, Duncan walked toward the submersible’s entrance, extending a hand to Agatha, signaling her to follow, “Alright then, let’s embark.”

As they boarded the submersible, the circular hatch closed with a resounding thud. Two robust undead sailors promptly approached the platform, expertly locking the exterior mechanism.

Now, the submersible’s interior was a world unto its own, cocooned from the outer environment by thick steel walls. Within this intimate setting, the gentle hum of the machinery and the sporadic gurgling sounds of the pipework formed a serene ambiance.

The crew cabin, surprisingly, lacked traditional seating. Instead, Duncan and Agatha found themselves standing in front of an expansive control panel. Their hands instinctively reached out, gripping the cold, metallic tubes that acted as safety railings on both sides. Just to their side, a heavy-duty glass porthole offered a window to the outside. Through it, they watched the skeletal, undead sailors efficiently work on the platform, detaching the thick steel cables that kept the submersible in place and releasing the chunky safety locks embedded in the steel frame.

Suddenly, the crisp and clear voice of Tyrian resonated from a sleek communication device tucked away at a corner of the panel. “Father, Miss Agatha, are you able to hear me?”

Stepping closer to the device, Duncan answered, “Loud and clear, Tyrian.”

“Very well. I won’t bore you with the nitty-gritty of operating the submersible; it’s been designed for simplicity and should be intuitive. Instead, let’s discuss what will transpire once you submerge.

“The craft runs primarily on a compact steam core combined with an auxiliary generator. This should ideally power any extensive underwater exploration. Should there be an issue with the core or generator, there’s a set of backup batteries housed in the vessel’s undercarriage, giving you approximately two hours of continued operation…”

“Furthermore, the submersible is equipped with three high-powered external spotlights. Be advised, their illumination will wane as you reach greater depths, so navigate with care. Given the significant water resistance at the ocean bed, the propulsion system operates at a conservative speed. Keep this in mind while traversing the deep…”

“As for communication, the device’s signal range is capped at 300 meters. Beyond this point, conventional communication will be disrupted. That being said, neither your mystical powers nor Miss Agatha’s psychic abilities should be hindered.”

“And while I may seem overly cautious, it’s vital to remember the unpredictable dangers of the deep sea. If you sense anything unusual or threatening, ascend without delay. For emergencies, there’s a lever on the top-left of the panel. Yanking it will shed the submersible’s bottom weight and deploy buoyant aids to either side of the hull. If the situation becomes dire, don’t hesitate to leave the submersible behind. You can utilize your power to teleport yourself and Miss Agatha to safety. We can always build another machine…”

Duncan, attentive as ever, soaked in every word Tyrian conveyed. Frankly, to him, Tyrian – once renowned as the “Great Pirate of the Cold Sea” – seemed a tad long-winded. Much of what he said seemed obvious or redundant.

Nevertheless, out of respect, Duncan heard him out patiently. Only once Tyrian had wrapped up did he reply, tone solemn, “Acknowledged. Let’s begin.”

Positioned at the end of the hall, beyond the submersible’s confines, Tyrian stood behind a command console. Taking a moment, he inhaled deeply and signaled his team with a determined nod.

“Activate the sea gate!”

“Start the tunnel flooding process!”

“Detach the submersible’s main power cord and stand by for hook disengagement!”

The submersible’s robust steel structure resonated with a deep, thunderous vibration, producing a muted, reverberating hum inside its spherical chamber. A slight trembling emanated from the vessel’s foundation, soon followed by the grinding sound of metal against metal.

When the sea valve was activated, torrents of seawater gushed into the launch tunnel below the structure, quickly reaching the required depth. The remaining duo of heavy-duty cables, which had steadfastly gripped the submersible, started to creak under the tension and slowly relaxed their grip.

Duncan and Agatha first felt a sudden lurch, and then the sensation of dropping. For a brief moment, gravity seemed to lose its grip on them. Swiftly, the submersible was enveloped by the cold embrace of the water, sliding down the inclined channel. Aided by a series of guiding grooves, the vessel was directed towards an underwater gateway that marked the boundary of the southern harbor.

Through the reinforced porthole, the water outside shifted from crystal clear to a somber abyss. Sporadic streaks of light flickered in the engulfing darkness, their presence growing more pronounced as the submersible’s internal vibrations reached a crescendo. And then, as swiftly as it had begun, a serene calm took hold.

Stretching out infinitely in front of them was an expansive canvas of blue, which deepened in hue the further they ventured.

Rays of sunlight pierced through the waters above, creating a dance of luminous beams and contrasting shadows outside their viewing pane. Streams of bubbles floated upwards from the submersible’s exterior, shimmering like enigmatic sea sprites adorned in iridescent colors.

Agatha seemed to be entirely entranced by this surreal panorama.

Letting go of her grip on the control panel, she gravitated towards the window, gripping the safety railing. As she drew closer, her veiled eyes seemed drawn, almost magnetically, to the marine depths transitioning into a shadowy void.

“What visions fill your sight?” Duncan asked, his voice light as he familiarized himself with the assortment of controls before him.

“Radiance, muted yet omnipresent,” Agatha whispered, seemingly lost in her own thoughts or perhaps entranced by the captivating view, “The world outside has been shrouded in twilight, hasn’t it?”

“There’s a lingering touch of daylight, but the abyssal depths will soon be bathed in absolute darkness,” Duncan affirmed, making subtle course corrections on the control panel. “And now? What meets your gaze?”

“A breathtaking tapestry of luminosity, delicate yet spanning my entire field of vision,” Agatha articulated, her voice filled with awe. “What might that be?”

“That,” Duncan intoned, directing his gaze through the porthole, “is Frost.” Bathed in the remnants of sunlight and accentuated by the submersible’s powerful lights, a monumental, jagged underwater cliff stood sentinel. “This is the very bedrock upon which our city-state is built.”