After a dizzy spell, Drake opened his eyes to find himself back in his captain's quarters. As captain, he certainly had his own private room. He glanced at the table in front of him, scattered with nautical charts and envelopes, and a few wanted posters sandwiched in between.
"30,000 Tabis, 105,000 Marks, 18,000 Pounds. Tsk, the bounty from the motherland is the lowest."
Drake looked over the bounties on his head. After all, as an undercover pirate, the Kingdom of Bruge had to issue a reward for his capture. Lately, he'd been so strapped for cash he'd considered turning himself in for the bounty. 30,000 Tabis would cover six years' worth of fixed salaries for his crew of over two hundred.
The title of 'Robin Hood of the Seas' came not only from the principle of robbing from the rich and sparing lives but also from the fact that Drake's crew, regardless of their plundering success, was guaranteed a base salary of two pounds a month. As a result, many skilled sailors and fighters eager for a meal joined Drake's team. Drake walked to the cabin door and opened the window, shouting to the guard outside.
"Send Mr. Fielding to me."
"Right away, Captain."
Soon, a fifty-something man dressed in a sharp black suit with polished shoes and graying at the temples entered, carrying a ledger.
"Good evening, Captain. You called for me?"
Drake appraised the man before him, one of his earliest partners in crime, whom he'd met in a tavern on the Northern Continent. Despite looking more like a seasoned Bruge gentleman than a pirate, the old man was strong—a senior Spirit, and the reason Drake had managed to rank among the top ten pirate kings was his dual Spirit crew.
"Good evening, my First Mate. How's the crew's morale?"
Fielding removed his monocle to wipe it, responding unhurriedly, "More and more steamships are crossing the Stormy Ocean lately. They see us and speed away with full power. Those things don't need the wind to reach 15 knots, and we can hardly catch up. It's been nearly two months since we've had any luck, so morale's low."
Drake was naturally troubled. His choice of a faster, wind-reliant ship over a third or fourth-rate warship was now proving problematic. With steam engines becoming more common, it was hard to chase down steam-powered ships. Although his ship wasn't solely reliant on natural forces—capable of magical propulsion when necessary—it was costly to replenish the magic, reserved for encounters with modern armored warships from major powers.
"There's not much we can do. I'm saving up to install a steam engine ourselves. Those damn merchants are selling them too high. If we change the power system, we'll have to take a long break and can't leave port."
Drake was no traditionalist. In the Northern Continent colonies, retired first-generation steamship engines were available for the right price, but they were exorbitantly expensive. A double-cylinder single-expansion steam engine was priced at over ten thousand pounds, and even the savings of Drake and his senior crew wouldn't cover it.
"Why don't we just hijack a steam warship?" Fielding suggested, his age not diminishing his audacity.
"Hijack a steam warship? Aside from whether we can catch up, if we do, our smoothbore cannons won't even fire before their breech-loading rifled cannons sink us. And even if we overcome that, I don't want an entire navy hunting us down." Drake immediately dismissed Fielding's idea.
"Then why call me here?" Fielding asked, puzzled.
"You handle the finances, right? Here's a pure profit of 100 pounds for you to manage. Take another 100 from the team's funds and give each crew member a pound as a bonus." Drake counted out half of the money he'd earned from Miss Rose and handed it to Fielding.
Fielding pocketed the banknotes. "You collected those superhuman materials the other day? That foolish child is willing to pay double the price?"
"Well, it might be a foolish daughter, ahem, our future major patron. Is that moisturizing brooch still in the warehouse? I might be able to make some more money."
Fielding looked up and smiled. "That thing is the most useless holy artifact I've ever seen. A 'B' grade holy artifact that's less practical than a 'C' grade or a decent 'D' grade extraordinary item. It's probably only considered a holy artifact because it can last more than ten years without losing effectiveness. So who are you planning to sell it to?"
"A secret. If we're going to cling to their leg for the long term, how much do you think is a fair price?"
Drake wasn't concerned about money; he was solely focused on becoming a demigod. Fielding, on the other hand, cared deeply about finances, but he was also fair. As the first mate handling actual financial matters, he had his say.
"If you're not planning a one-time scam and want a long-term partnership, better to be upfront. Sell a neglected holy artifact at the price of a 'C' grade magical item. Paying a thousand pounds for a holy artifact won't be a loss for them, and if they're wealthy enough, even buying a holy artifact brooch as a decoration would highlight their wealth and status," Fielding advised earnestly.
"Sounds good. Even if it's useless, it's still a holy artifact. Let's go with a thousand pounds. It's a shame we only have two things on this ship worth over ten thousand pounds that we can't sell."
Fielding perked up, "Ten thousand pounds in cash is very different from ten thousand pounds in assets. Who's this wealthy woman you've met recently? We haven't been to any rich places lately. Don't tell me the two items worth over ten thousand pounds are...?"
Drake replied, "Exactly what you're thinking. Your head and mine are worth over ten thousand pounds each."
Fielding sighed, "We've only been out of business for a few months; no need to sell your head for money. Let's consider it if we're still dry in half a year."
Drake gave Fielding a look. Was the old man really joking about selling his head? Though he knew it was a jest, Drake still felt a chill down his neck.
Elyon had been in the hospital for three days when, late at night around ten, an old acquaintance visited. Chief Orion, dressed to the nines with a top hat, wasn't recognizable until he removed his hat.
"What's up, old classmate? You're not here to give me a welfare check, are you?"
Orion pulled out three tickets from his hat and said with a touch of curiosity, "How did you know? Here are three tickets. A carriage will pick you up tomorrow morning. Get ready to check out tonight."
In this era before movies, Elyon didn't bother to look closely before commenting, "I'm not into operas or plays."
"It's not an opera. It's a short vacation."
"Vacation?"
Elyon examined the tickets closely under the gaslight. They were for the Sea God cruise liner, first-class cabin number 8, from August 12th to 15th.
"A cruise? A three-day tour? How much for first-class?"
"It was supposed to be for me, 60 pounds for three tickets. Painful," Orion admitted, clutching his face.
"You're that generous?" Elyon tapped his nails skeptically.
"Well, this vacation has three purposes. First, it's a reward for exceeding your duties. Even though you didn't save that informant, it was beyond your capacity. Take a break and change your mood."
This only soured Elyon's mood further, as he thought of little Cor dying in his arms, now wishing he could dig up those cloaked men.
"Secondly, heh, we're fishing for a big catch and need some bait."
Elyon knew what Orion was getting at, "No way. I can risk a bit for myself, but you're planning to bring my sisters along with these three tickets."
"There's no big fish involved. You won't be alone; we'll have undercover agents to protect you. The Sea God conducts drug and body searches upon boarding. Besides us and the crew, no passengers are allowed to carry weapons. The captain is an old buddy of mine, a retired admiral from the Capricorn combat team. You understand."
Elyon was tempted. If he was armed and a former naval superhuman was present, it did seem safe.
"And the third reason? Who are we fishing for?"
Orion leaned in, "You know about Monge's assassination, right? That fool was used as a lab rat, and now you're the only living witness left from the sacrificial site. We suspect there are moles from those cloaked men inside our ranks, and we need your help to lure them out."
Elyon agreed, eager to root out the cloaked men. Of course, there was another survivor from that day, a fat man who escaped, but Elyon chose not to mention it, fearing Orion would ask why he hadn't killed him on the spot.
"I need to hide. General Granger's fury is about to erupt. He didn't dare lash out with Lord Black there, but tomorrow, with Lord Black away at a meeting, I fear he won't hold back from beating you. He won't go for a kill, but breaking an arm or two is likely."
Elyon fell silent, knowing the old general was overprotective of his daughter. He had just borrowed Emma for her safety, even knocking her out so he could face the evil god alone—how could he be blamed?
"What's this Lord Black everyone talks about? Even General Granger, the gorilla, oh, I mean General Granger, is stopped by him?"
"He's a superhuman with an independent title, the head of the Special Operations Department in the Kellong region, one of the most powerful figures there."
A demigod. Elyon understood now. Facing an incomplete demigod avatar had left him utterly overpowered; against a bona fide demigod, the gap was as vast as a praying mantis trying to stop a speeding carriage.
"Fine, what time will you pick me up? Bring my credentials and weapons, too." Elyon sighed.
"Wow, you let yourself off the hook quickly. Seven in the morning then. The cruise ship has been notified. Enjoy your few days off; the destination is Cain Island."
Elyon had heard of the small island, a holiday paradise to the east of Aegisburg, famous for its beaches and seafood, a popular summer retreat for the wealthy.