Deep Sea Embers

The shift from serene weather to another round of snowfall was swift and sudden in the city-state of Frost. As the morning unfolded, ominous clouds hung heavily over the cityscape, resembling imposing blocks of lead. A wild and icy wind danced through the streets unrelentingly, seemingly setting the stage for what was to come. By the time the city clock chimed midday, the first snowflakes had already begun their descent from the heavens above. From the city’s highest points to its lowest corridors, from the mightiest towers to the smallest alleyways, a thick blanket of snow had soon enveloped the entirety of Frost, presenting an enchanting spectacle.

The sudden onset of snowfall had a dampening effect on the otherwise bustling streets of Frost. Most of its inhabitants hurriedly sought shelter indoors, rendering the city eerily quiet. Against this backdrop of tranquility, the shrill sound of a steam car’s brakes felt conspicuously jarring.

It was a stately grey vehicle that had pulled up in front of City Hall. As the car door swung open, Agatha stepped out dressed in her customary black attire. Her determined stride brought her directly to the formidable edifice that towered over the rest of the city.

She looked up at the imposing structure, its architecture a vestige from the bygone era of monarchy, radiating the dignity and grandeur of yesteryears. Its majestic pillars, graceful arches, and intricate roof designs were a sight to behold at any hour. Even though its title had evolved from the old “Winter Court” to the present “City Hall,” its significance within the city remained unwavering.

City Hall, along with the Silent Cathedral, stood as a testament to the dual pillars of power in this icy landscape, sheltering the city and its precious mining ores. Just like a historical text etched in stone, this monumental structure held within its confines the ever-changing tale of power dynamics and significant personalities. Whether it was the age of queens, kings, or the contemporary system of administrative governance, each era found its place in the pages of this living history book…

Agatha’s brow furrowed as she reached up to gently massage her temple. She realized she had been lost in a world of contemplation once again, her mind wandering like a dreamy poet. This wasn’t a one-off incident; over the past few days, she had frequently found herself lost in thought or feeling an inexplicable restlessness.

This was a worrying development. As a sentinel of the city-state, she needed to maintain a sharp, focused mind, free of daydreaming – a distraction that could not be afforded.

Her introspection was interrupted by footsteps approaching from the city gates. A quick glance revealed a senior secretary, clad in a dark blue coat, walking towards her.

“Miss Agatha,” greeted the young man, who served as the assistant to the city administrator, as he bowed respectfully before her, “The governor has been informed of your arrival. He awaits your presence in the dome office.”

“A direct approach would be beneficial,” Agatha conceded with a nod, “Proceed ahead.”

In a spacious office, topped with a round dome on the highest floor of City Hall, sat the incumbent governor of Frost, Winston, positioned behind an imposing curved desk.

Winston was a burly man, carrying a bit more weight than necessary, cloaked in an extravagant bright blue coat embellished with medals and ribbons. Possibly, the demands of managing a declining city-state were overly taxing. His hair had diminished to an alarming extent, compelling him to resort to a curly wig to mask his bare scalp. As Agatha made her entry into the domed office, she noticed the governor absorbed in tweaking a small brass mechanical device placed on his desk.

The intricate mechanical object resembled a miniature model of sorts. Its tightly interconnected gears and linkage structures were so delicately designed that they bordered on being art pieces. Under Winston’s manipulations, the device intermittently emitted a clear, pleasing sound.

“It’s unexpected that you find moments to dabble with mechanical models amidst your pressing political responsibilities,” Agatha’s voice echoed from across the desk, “I was under the impression that the city-state’s recent circumstances have been demanding all your attention.”

“This isn’t merely a model, but a prototype for the next generation mining car traction. It promises to conserve thirty percent of energy while offering enhanced reliability and durability than its predecessor,” Governor Winston responded earnestly, looking up from his contraption, “Although we face mounting challenges in our city-state, it doesn’t justify a halt in our progress and evolution.”

Agatha held her silence, not challenging his viewpoint.

Governor Winston had always been deeply fascinated with mechanics and engineering. During his twelve-year tenure as governor, he had channeled most of his energy into supporting and promoting engineering design firms as well as mechanical manufacturing factories. The ambitious governor seemingly aimed to address the city-state’s ongoing crisis through technological innovations, including modernizing obsolete facilities and exploring new economic catalysts. However…

To put it mildly, while his concept was commendable, his conviction high, and efforts abundant, the stark reality was an uphill struggle.

“Technological breakthroughs can facilitate renovations of mining facilities at a manageable expense. Practical, innovative machinery could also find potential markets in other city-states. Frost can’t continue to rely solely on metal ore exports for survival,” Winston, noticing Agatha’s tepid response, felt compelled to elaborate further, “The metal mines are indeed Frost’s lifeline, but a pillar founded on a single industry is bound to be fragile…”

“I am not a functionary in the domains of economics or technology,” Agatha felt the need to gently remind him.

“Ah, of course, I seem to have overlooked that,” Winston acknowledged, lifting his hand to set the mechanical model aside on his desk. He looked up at Agatha, shifting the conversation back to more pertinent matters, “Let’s proceed to the issue at hand then, Ms. Agatha. Regarding the exploration of the Second Waterway, I understand you have some concerns?”

“The exploration team encountered an issue beneath the connection well in Central Zone Two,” Agatha disclosed without beating around the bush, “This corridor is situated near the base of the metal mine. Some sections of the pipeline branch exhibit signs of tampering, yet the entrance to the subsequent connection section is obstructed. I directed the exploration team to forcibly clear the obstacles in the Second Waterway, however, they reported finding a lead seal and a plaque left by City Hall affixed to the door.”

“A lead seal and plaque from City Hall?” A visibly surprised Winston attempted to mask his shock with a practiced look of astonishment, “Are you certain about this?”

Agatha studied Winston’s reaction closely. After a prolonged silence, she finally spoke in a low voice, “It appears you were not privy to this.”

“That’s the Second Waterway, abandoned for over fifty years. Its last known usage dates back to the reign of the Frost Queen!” Winston protested, throwing up his hands in an exaggerated gesture of disbelief, “Even if there were to be any lead seal or plaque down there, it would certainly be remnants from the Queen’s era. The idea of City Hall leaving anything behind is ludicrous. Are you insinuating that I covertly sealed that doorway? To what end? To hoard treasure deep underground?”

“You indeed lack a logical motive,” Agatha conceded with a soft nod, “If you truly wished to conceal something of value, there are undoubtedly more secure locations within the city-state than the unpredictable Second Waterway.”

“I’d rather not entertain such far-fetched speculations,” Winston dismissed with a wave of his hand, his countenance turning noticeably serious, “Was there no discernible date or name of the person responsible on the plaque? A standard plaque should bear such details. Identifying who locked the door should be quite straightforward based on this.”

“Regrettably, all inscriptions are tarnished and hard to decipher. Both the plaque and the lead seal are substantially corroded. In fact, even the door itself is in a rather fragile state. We suspect the acidic environment within the strata near the mine has expedited the deterioration of the metal,” Agatha relayed, shaking her head, “All we can verify is that the door was indeed secured by City Hall. Lead seals of that specific design wouldn’t have existed during the Queen’s reign.”

A visibly irritated Winston rose from his seat, pacing anxiously behind the large, curved desk. After what seemed like an eternity, he halted his pacing and murmured, “If it truly was the handiwork of City Hall, it must date back a considerable time, likely the first or second municipal government following the cessation of the Queen’s reign…”

“It appears as if your predecessors were not completely thorough in passing down all pertinent documents to their successors,” Agatha remarked, a hint of dry humor in her tone.

“The early period of transition was marked by turmoil. It’s likely that some documents were either lost or damaged in the process,” Winston retorted with a dismissive wave of his hand, “Nevertheless, the fact that there exists an area deep underground at the heart of the city, an area sealed off under the directive of City Hall and forming part of the Second Waterway, is quite irregular… This matter certainly warrants a comprehensive investigation, Ms. Agatha.”

“Naturally, it’s part of my duties,” Agatha responded, her facial features softening somewhat, “While I may not have procured the answer I sought, having your assurance of support is equally valuable. The exploration will proceed, and I aim to unveil what lies behind that door at the earliest. The Death Church will ensure City Hall is promptly notified of any developments.”

“That’s reassuring to hear,” Winston nodded, the tension in the domed office easing ever so slightly.

“I shan’t impose upon your time any further,” Agatha declared, “There are several aspects of the Second Waterway that require my personal attention.”

Having bid the governor a polite farewell, she turned and exited the domed office.

Agatha’s retreating figure vanished from the room, leaving only the gradually fading echoes of her cane tapping and heels clicking against the floor. After a significant pause, Winston let out a soft sigh, his brow furrowing in puzzlement.

“Ms. Agatha chose not to use ‘Greywind’ for transportation today…” The slightly overweight middle-aged governor glanced in the direction where Agatha had exited, murmuring to himself, “It appears she can also walk in and out through the regular entrance, doesn’t it?”