When Byron stepped out of the Captain’s quarters again, aside from several silver platters cleaner than if they had been licked, he also had an extra book in his hand.
—Bloody Mary’s Gourt Cookbook!
In return for his great service in saving the pirate ship, Captain Salman publicly promised that he could choose any item from his collection as a reward.
Byron imdiately ruled out the Storm Sigil Ring, which was tightly worn on the Captain’s hand. He quietly activated "Echoes of History" to peruse the Captain’s collection, yet he found no second unidentifiable Miracle. He was convinced that this supposed Gourt is most likely a pauper. The Gold Sequence truly is a bottomless pit.
Just as the well-fed Salman opened his mouth for Byron to make his selection, Byron, as if unable to restrain an instinctive longing, quite rudely snatched the ancient-looking cookbook.
"I’ll take this book!" Byron exclaid.
Salman feigned deep consideration before very "reluctantly" agreeing.
In truth, this was exactly what he had intended—if Byron had not taken the cookbook like the previous chefs, Salman would have truly been at his wits’ end.
The two actors, each with their own sches, outperford each other.
Regrettably, Salman could never have imagined that Byron was a genius who had experienced a spiritual awakening before reaching adulthood. Furthermore, the Extraordinary Knowledge and trump cards Byron possessed far exceeded Salman’s imagination.
However, I’m not quite sure if my quantified "1" Spirituality is sufficient to actively deploy "Echoes of History" and decipher the secrets of this Miracle, Byron thought. I’ll take it back with first and attempt it later in the evening when I’m alone.
"Mr. Byron, co over here! You’ve been busy and probably haven’t had dinner yet, right? I’ve specially saved a portion for you. And the Captain has granted special permission: today we can all freely enjoy fresh draft beer!"
Byron had intended to go straight back to the kitchen, with no plans to mingle with the pirates on deck who were divided into several groups, enjoying fine food and wine. Unexpectedly, Little Hans, who had been keeping an eye on the Captain’s quarters, beckoned to him from afar and even ran over enthusiastically to pull him towards his small group.
"Please sit down, Mr. Byron."
"Mr. Byron, let pour you a drink."
In no ti, Byron was invited by a few young pirates to a makeshift table of barrels and planks, where he was courteously served at and alcohol.
Looking around, Byron saw that most of those sitting here were skilled technical sailors with considerable standing on the ship. Chief among them were the shipwright, Hans, and his son, who both held Byron in high regard.
Two apprentice Navigators, Thomas and Parry, lacked the capability to navigate independently and were always learning from the forr chief navigator. During the day, they had been captivated by Byron’s miraculous skill in navigation, and their enthusiasm now matched that of Little Hans. Moreover, according to their duties, they would be following Byron, the acting chief navigator, learning and working until they could stand on their own. Both already considered themselves mbers of Byron’s Direct Lineage, taking pride in the association.
The rest, aside from a few senior gunners, were young pirates who had joined the ship recently due to poverty at ho and through various channels. They still possessed the simplicity (or foolishness) characteristic of their age. They thought that the Captain, a Transcendent no less, would not be so petty as to deliberately suppress newcors.
Particularly noteworthy was a young man sitting in the corner, his two missing fingers only roughly bandaged. Byron knew his na was Jon, a common sailor and kitchen hand, who had just helped him prepare the ingredients and distribute dinner. He was also the Unlucky Ghost who had two fingers bitten off by Bloody Eye Salman that very noon!
This little group included mbers from various departnts, totaling a dozen or so people—enough to manage a single-masted schooner, albeit barely. Not a single mber of the pirate ship’s most formidable Marines was here. They were mostly gathered under the ship’s First Mate, Bone Crusher Miles, occupying another corner of the deck.
Listening to the noisy chatter from that side, this group of the Man-Eating Shark’s crew mbers with the highest moral standards still felt indignant on Byron’s behalf.
"Hmph, those ingrates! Don’t they appreciate who saved their lives?"
"The Creator will ensure those ungrateful wretches pay their debts!"
"The Second Commandnt of the Pirate’s Ten Commandnts: Fairness for all—the able rise, the inept fall. Apart from the position of First Mate, no other rank befits your achievents, Mr. Byron! You should rightfully demand what you deserve from the Captain. If an honest man like you compromises so easily, you’ll be bullied on this ship in the future."
"Exactly! Pirates are the freest people on the seas! If rewards and punishnts aren’t clear, how can we entice other outstanding pirates to join us?"
"..."
Feeling their goodwill, Byron, who had just been through a great ordeal and was wary of strangers, felt a rare warmth in his heart.
Then he smiled indifferently and said, "It’s fine. I’m young, and the Captain is surely training my abilities.
"Young people shouldn’t aim too high or look only at imdiate benefits. We should consider our future developnt within the group. As long as we contribute selflessly, the Captain will notice. Sooner or later, we will all get promotions and raises, with more rewards to co.
"If the Pirate Group prospers, so do we.
"As they say, when the great river flows full, the small streams are filled too!"
In his previous life, as a wage slave who’d been fed more empty promises than he could stomach, he had these corporate platitudes down pat, even reaching a High Order of self-rationalization. Now, these words ca to him naturally, without any sense of incongruity.
Looking into the eyes of the pirates, he sincerely told them the absolute truth, "Honestly, suffering a loss can be a blessing. I have no interest in becoming the First Mate."
If an incapable person had said this, they would only have invited ridicule and been seen as weak. On a pirate ship, humility and politeness were the most useless qualities. But these words, coming from Byron, who had already proven himself, made the pirates feel as though they could see a halo shining above his head.
What a good man! they thought.
The group grew increasingly convinced that Byron was far more suitable to be the First Mate of this ship. This was especially true when compared to First Mate Miles, who was currently pontificating loudly and drunkenly on the other side of the deck.
If only Mr. Byron were a Transcendent like the Captain. A gentleman like him, humble and fair to his own people, full of grace, would be far more suitable to be... the Captain! Much more so than that violent, mad brute! More than one person suddenly entertained such a bold idea.
Obviously, even those who lacked Extraordinary Knowledge could tell, if they spent enough ti on this ship, that their Captain’s state was increasingly off-kilter. No one wanted to be the next one to mysteriously disappear.
Especially Jon, the kitchen hand who had lost two fingers and now bore the new nickna ’Eight Fingers’; his eyes flashed with a hatred tinged with fear. Monster! He only bullies honest n like Mr. Byron and !
Although only a small seed had been planted for the ti being, a small group centered around Byron was gradually taking shape.
"Ahem. Since the Captain has already made a decision, let’s put this matter to rest," Old Hans, the most level-headed among the younger n, tapped his beechwood pipe on the table. "Stop talking about it, and let’s drink instead." He was the first to raise his tankard of beer.
Byron, fitting in, raised his own tankard and clinked it with the others before downing the fresh beer in one gulp.
Beer’s shelf life was far shorter than rum’s. Whether on naval vessels, rchant ships, or pirate ships, it was always the first provision the quartermaster aid to distribute.
However, after finishing his beer, Byron’s nose suddenly twitched. He turned to look in the direction of the group with First Mate Bone Crusher Miles, only to find they were drinking rum. The open oak barrel beside them emanated a strangely familiar scent: a mixture of blood and sweetness. It was exactly like the blood-red Bacardi Rum that Bloody Eye had drunk earlier! The only difference was that the alcohol content was not as high. It was more like a cocktail, the sa additive mixed into a base liquor.
And his Spirit Vision revealed that these pirates—mostly from the assault teams, the ones with the most kills—were all emitting a blood-red Divine Light similar to that of the Man-Eater Sharks.
"This is the Battle Blood, a wine the Captain specially awarded us," First Mate Miles declared, provocatively glancing at Byron on the other side of the deck. "After he, the Gourt, has prepared it, it can gradually grant us Extraordinary Power. Previously, we could only drink it once every half-month. Now, considering the great loss of manpower, the Captain has decided that we can drink a glass every day. But... only the brave warriors who truly charge into the fray deserve to enjoy it!"
Transcendent! A powerful Transcendent who also holds the ability to bestow Extraordinary Power upon others would naturally possess imnse appeal. Even though Captain Bloody Eye Salman was as frightening as a ticking ti bomb, forcing them to live in daily fear, they staunchly supported the Gourt for the sake of this grand promise.
Blood wine? Battle Blood? A typical Gourt of the Gold Sequence wouldn’t have this ability, Byron mused. He ignored Miles’s provocation. I could kill him as easily as a dog.
Lost in thought, he quickly finished his dinner, giving only the mutton to Little Hans.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Soon, a chi rang out on the ship. It was not an alarm, but the marine chronoter made by the Artisans, chiming the hour. Unwittingly, it was already seven in the evening.
First Mate Miles, still appearing unsatisfied, drained his cup and commanded everyone, "It’s seven o’clock! Clean up the deck, check the anchor cables, and hurry back to your cabins to sleep!"
The Third Commandnt: Lights out at eight in the evening. Afterward, no drinking is allowed, and no one is to go on deck between two and four in the morning.
The pirates had always abided by these rules without objection.
As the small circle prepared to part, Old Hans took a puff from his beechwood pipe and exhaled a thick smoke ring. He solemnly advised the group of young n, who had not been aboard for long, "Here’s so advice for you all: rember the Pirate’s Ten Commandnts well. On this ship, do not—under any circumstances—violate those commandnts!"
User Comments
0 comments from readers