Are the Gods Dead?

The Captain's Cabin was quiet. The faint sound of waves drifting in from outside the window was soft and fragmented, making the room's tranquility all the more apparent. After quite a while, Goat Head finally sighed. "Ah, that sounds good."

"I thought you'd ask more questions," Duncan said, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't you curious where I took Xilantis? Aren't you curious about all my secrets?"

"Curious," Goat Head said bluntly. "But reason and intuition tell me it's best not to pry too deeply into things called 'secrets,' especially not what happened when you left this ship. You are the captain of the Lost Homeland. Knowing that is enough for me. As for anything else... the less I know, the better."

"...Intuition?" Duncan said thoughtfully. Looking at the pitch-black carved wooden Goat Head before him, he suddenly asked, "Then did your intuition tell you what would happen if I were no longer the captain of the Lost Homeland, or if you learned too many of my 'secrets'?"

Goat Head fell silent. Nearly a minute passed before it finally broke the silence. "I only know that whenever I have thoughts of 'crossing the line,' I see an endless Starry Sky—and beneath the light of the stars, the Lost Homeland no longer exists."

Duncan slowly frowned. After a brief moment of thought, he shook his head and set aside his complicated thoughts for the time being. "Xilantis... is currently staying somewhere safe in a special state. You don't need to worry."

"That's good," Goat Head said softly, asking nothing further.

"There is another question, though—what should I call you?" Duncan suddenly asked after several seconds of silence. "Sasloca? Goat Head? Or First Mate?"

"...Let's stick to the old forms of address," Goat Head said after thinking about it. Its tone seemed strangely awkward.