日本少妇被黑人xxxxx

The modest steam core emitted a robust, resonating growl, powering the mechanical vehicle to traverse the timeless streets of the city-state. As they journeyed, the scenery lining the edges of the road gradually retreated into the periphery of her vision, and the vehicle reduced its speed somewhat as they crossed another intersection.

“Ma’am, are we heading directly back to the cathedral?” Her subordinate’s voice punctured her contemplation from the driver’s seat.

Lifting her gaze, Agatha peered out of the car window, her gaze falling upon the familiar structure of the cathedral in the distance.

The Silent Cathedral, as always, silently dominated the city-state’s skyline.

At the city’s heart was a mountain, a rough conical landform that stood as the city-state’s core. Beneath it were the rich ore mines that bestowed a wealth that seemed to have no end. At the peak of this mountain were two prominent edifices—the Silent Cathedral and City Hall. These two grand structures, standing shoulder to shoulder at the city’s highest point, were visible from every nook and corner of the city-state.

At least one of them was always in view.

With its grandeur and solemnity, the cathedral appeared hallowed against the backdrop of the infinite sky. Opposite it stood the City Hall, another imposing structure. Half a century ago, during the reign of the queen, this building had been a palace. Officially named the “Winter Court,” it was colloquially referred to by most as the Queen’s Palace.

In that era, now considered forbidden to discuss, the Winter Court and the Silent Cathedral stood as twin sentinels over the city-state, their symbolic protective forces captured in the mythology of old—the church safeguarded the city through the night, and the royal house stood guard during the day, their forces complementing each other in a harmonious balance.

Despite the passage of time and the end of the queen’s era, the present-day reality wasn’t drastically different. City Hall, embodying secular power, continued to stand as the caretaker of the city.

Agatha found herself sinking deep into a contemplative state. Unconsciously, her gaze fixated on the mountain, a sight she had seen countless times, and the two buildings crowning it. These structures, to her, seemed like two titanic beasts perched at the summit. The multitude of houses and factories clustered on the mountain’s flank appeared to her as rivulets of lifeblood flowing from these beasts, meandering down the slopes.

A sudden, minor sting pricked at her eyes.

“Gatekeeper, shall we proceed to the cathedral?” The voice of her subordinate once more echoed from the front seat, jarring Agatha out of her reverie. She blinked, registering a faint humming in her ears that vanished as quickly as it came, along with her momentary lapse into the memories of a time now past.

“No, let’s make our way to the sewage treatment center first,” Agatha replied, shaking her head, “The ‘doppelganger’ that vanished in the washroom is a matter of concern. I need to verify the situation personally.”

“Understood.”

With a lively hum, the steam core resumed its operation, and with practiced elegance, the car traced an arc at the intersection, directing itself towards the sewage treatment center.

…

The sky was blanketed by a thick layer of clouds, with the feeble daylight managing to cast an eerie and uncertain glow amidst the shadows. In the distance stretched an endless expanse of sea with a thin veil of mist hovering over its surface.

Lawrence stood at the prow of the White Oak, his brows knitted together as he stared at the far-off seascape—a sight that had remained constant for what seemed like an eternity.

Glancing in the other direction, the sea extended to infinity there as well. No other ships were in sight, let alone any indication of a city-state.

Lawrence’s brows furrowed even deeper as a biting wind swept across the deck, tugging at his clothes and ruffling his white hair.

“How long have we been sailing away from Frost?” he suddenly asked the first mate standing beside him.

“A full day and night, Captain,” came the immediate reply from the first mate, “We’ve been at full speed.”

“Something seems off… It feels as if we’re going in circles…” Lawrence’s face hardened, his gaze darting towards the confused light in the sky, and then, as if recalling something, he asked, “Is the telegraph able to receive signals from the nearby city-states or ports?”

“Yes,” the first mate affirmed with a nod, his expression mirroring Lawrence’s seriousness, “But only from Frost.”

Taking a shallow breath, Lawrence inquired, “What does it say?”

“The greeting message,” the first mate relayed with deliberate slowness, “The port is open, welcome to Frost. The same message is being broadcast on repeat.”

Lawrence’s brow furrowed even more at this revelation. After an extended silence, the first mate eventually voiced his suspicion, “It’s as if…we’re still caught in Frost’s vicinity.”

“It appears we are ensnared within these waters,” Lawrence stated, his voice low and laden with worry, “How is the crew holding up?”

“Everyone’s caught on that something’s amiss, but they’re remarkably composed,” the first mate glanced back towards the deck where the sailors were diligently going about their tasks, “They’re performing exceptionally well. We’ve encountered ‘oddities’ in the Boundless Sea before, and everyone has faith that you can navigate us out of this predicament. Therefore, no one is imposing on you.”

Lawrence responded with silence, simply lifting his gaze once more to the disorderly sky.

Observing his captain’s unusual focus, the first mate couldn’t help but ask, “What is it that you’re looking for?”

“I…” Lawrence rubbed his temple, feeling a peculiar emptiness in his mind, like he had mislaid something crucial, “I’m mulling over our navigation path.”

“Navigation path?”

“Yes, the course,” Lawrence intoned, his eyes forcefully shut and then reopened as he wrestled with the missing piece of information, the words seeming to be more to himself than to anyone else, “Does it not feel like… we’ve forgotten something? Our current course… should we adjust it?”

Taken aback, the first mate stuttered out a response, “Adjust the course? Are you suggesting the observatory? The navigator…”

“No, not the observatory,” Lawrence abruptly cut off the first mate’s speculation, appearing to slowly emerge from a long bout of mental fog, “The observatory is reserved for special circumstances as it’s contaminated and we can’t rely on it frequently. There ought to be a simpler, more commonly used, safer method to confirm our direction during the day. There must be such a method…”

As he spoke, Lawrence’s words sped up, and then, as though a light bulb had been switched on in his mind, he abruptly pivoted and dashed towards the captain’s quarters, not providing any hint about his sudden recollection.

Left bemused but instinctively following the captain, the first mate trailed Lawrence back into the captain’s quarters, watching as Lawrence rummaged about the room. Eventually, he couldn’t resist asking, “What are you searching for?”

“Some sort of device, used during daylight, to correct the course…” Lawrence answered, his voice hurried as he continued his search, a potent memory starting to rise from the depths of his mind. He was on the brink of remembering, of knowing what he sought…And then, his gaze fastened on a table nearby.

Nestled on the table was a small apparatus, made up of a telescopic tube and several uniquely marked scales.

With hesitation, Lawrence approached and lifted the compact device, grappling with his memory to recollect its function.

After a few moments, he exited the room, the little instrument securely in hand, and emerged on the deck. The first mate watched as Lawrence held the device aloft and directed it skyward.

“Captain, what are you attempting?” the first mate questioned, unable to mask his curiosity.

Lawrence carefully lowered the device, a fleeting glimmer of deep green sparking within his eyes, unnoticed by the first mate standing opposite him.

The elderly captain’s expression was a mixture of bewilderment and astonishment—he and the first mate locked eyes for several intense seconds before he finally managed in a hoarse whisper, “Do you recall… an entity in the sky that glowed and emitted heat, moving with unwavering accuracy and precision above us, which ships used to orient their course during daylight…”

The first mate’s eyes widened as if dormant memories or inklings were stirring within his mind.

Turning his gaze back to the tumultuous clouds and the faint, seemingly sourceless light that lingered behind them—the light seemed to permeate uniformly, with no traces of a singular, intense luminous body amidst the cloud cover.

Drawing his gaze away from the nebulous expanse above, he fixed his gaze on his first mate, “Where has the sun vanished to?”

Confounded, the first mate could only echo the captain’s query, “Where has the sun vanished to?”

“We’re not astray, not ensnared, not caught in a cyclical anomaly…” Lawrence murmured softly, “The White Oak has sailed into an anomalous space…”

The first mate slowly raised his gaze, staring out across the vast sea beyond the ship’s side, a blend of confusion and fear etched on his face.

But suddenly, it seemed as if he’d discerned something.

There, breaking the monotony of the seascape, was a sliver of land.

A tiny island.