The Emerald Silk, sailing up the Dragoneu River.
Equipped with state-of-the-art compound steam engines, this ship was one of the flagship vessels of the Vergsong Merchant Guild.
Legend had it that the name "Emerald Silk" was bestowed upon the ship by the inebriated owner when he praised the color and softness of his daughter's hair at her christening.
Of course, the current chairman vehemently denied this legend.
However, the crew of the Emerald Silk, both in the past and the present, had no hesitation in calling the ship "Anais's Tresses."
Sailors preferred to give ships feminine names, authoritative names, or soft names, believing it could appease the fierce sea gods.
And Anais's Tresses satisfied all three criteria.
The owner of Anais's Tresses sat hunched over in her office just below the bridge, running her fingers through her dishevelled hair.
"Ah."
She had been awake for two nights straight.
Dark circles marred her eyes, and her pupils were bloodshot from the burst of veins.
She hadn't had proper rest or a bath due to the increasing workload.
Her whole body was worn out, leaving her unable to move a muscle.
Even moving the pen was now a challenge.
She tossed the documents she had been reading onto her desk and leaned back in her chair.
The merchant guild's work kept piling up, no matter how much she tried to handle it.
She was now even taking on the responsibilities of the Vice Chairman, which went far beyond her original duties.
Could that man really handle all of this?
Anais tightly shut her eyes.
Unwanted memories resurfaced, memories of someone she missed.
"Uncle..."
Pierre Mopassan.
Someone who had been like family to her.
And someone who had tried to kill her.
His presence had loomed large in the Merchant Union.
Why had he abandoned the Merchant Union?
It couldn't be because of the coup, could it?
In recent days, she had been muttering this unlikely hypothesis.
It was far from a conviction based on human trust.
It was about practical gain.
What could he have possibly gained by relinquishing his position as the Vice Chairman?
He must have received an offer he couldn't refuse.
And who could have made him that offer...
Anais let out a deep sigh.
There were too many problems to handle.
Pierre had been the effective leader of the company's operations.
Without him, the internal order of the Merchant Union was falling apart.
If only he had stepped down through proper channels.
He was currently wanted for the attempted assassination of the Chairman.
Naturally, those who had regarded him as their patron were vehemently defending him, while rival factions were waiting to pounce, seizing every minor misstep to attack.
The eldest statesman on the current board had stepped up to fill in, but it wasn't easy.
Was it really a wise decision to embark on this journey in the midst of all this turmoil?
Wouldn't it have been better to simply board a flight to Vegas and focus solely on work?
Then, his voice brushed against her mind, unbidden.
"I wish we could continue to be together."
That one sentence, delivered with that face, that smile, and those eyes fixed on her.
"Hehe... That's right..."
It was hard to hold back the laughter.
He clearly desired her.
He, too, clearly had feelings for her.
Yes, he must have felt embarrassed at the mansion.
He couldn't admit to having feelings for her for the sake of treatment.
'Especially since I had already labelled him a pervert.
I feel a surge of power.
Yes, this journey has meaning.'she thought.
***
The port city of Lamancha, on the eastern coast of Castya.
A man, wearing a deeply pressed hat, walked quickly along the beach.
It was still April, but Lamancha, close to the equator, had a warm climate year-round.
However, the man not only concealed his appearance with the hat but also wore a thick coat to hide himself thoroughly.
But the merchants and even the soldiers who roamed the beach didn't pay much attention to the man whose movements were suspicious.
Occasionally, such words were exchanged:
"Is he a guest going to Pirate Island?"
"You don't have to hide like that; they don't care. Foreigners looking for Pirate Island have been increasing lately."
The residents, as well as the soldiers, casually mentioned Pirate Island as if it were a friendly neighbor.
Pirate Island, known as Freeport, was an island ruled by pirates, located not far from Lamancha in the nearby waters.
However, to the people of Lamancha, they were not infamous outlaws. They were seen as bold rogues who plundered the ugly republican merchant ships and excellent trading partners who sold quality goods.
Since the pirates needed a place to sell the booty they plundered, they did not harm Lamancha. In fact, they paid taxes to the local aristocrat.
Although it was portrayed as being taken by the great aristocrat's navy due to external appearances...
The visitor who had hidden himself was well aware of Lamancha's local circumstances.
But he didn't reveal his disguise.
He wasn't just a simple visitor going to Pirate Island for shady deals.
He was wanted for attempted assassination of a nobleman from Charlotia.
Even though it was a distant foreign country, he had to be cautious.
Especially more so than the relaxed local soldiers, he had to be careful of the merchants.
Those who carried the mark of Vergsong went without saying, and other merchants were no different.
He was once the vice-chairman of the Grand Assembly.
There was a high chance that someone would recognize his face.
"Why didn't I just go to Flolande?"
Although his actions in that direction were all known to Anais, at least he had his loyal followers and an established base there.
If he had gone there, he could have taken a ship without having to go through this troublesome task.
Moreover, Delos, to which Flolande belonged, was proud of its republic, and they were lenient when it came to crimes related to the nobility.
In Charlotia, where class distinctions were strong, there were rumors like this:
"If you committed a crime, just hit a passing noble and run away. You'll be treated as a hero by the Delos rebels."
But Pierre soon shook his head.
Delos was indeed a place that was lenient with the personal sanctions of its residents.
Even if he was forcibly taken by the Republic, it was highly likely that the Republic would let go and say, "I don't know him!" to the mercenaries hired by Vergsong Army or Anais.
It was better to stay here.
"Rouage, sir?"
The designated meeting place.
A man dressed as a merchant called out to him.
Rouage was his alias used when dealing with pirates.
The man was neatly dressed, but his actions and stern gaze were no different from those of the pirates.
Unless the port authorities were foolish, they wouldn't think he was really a merchant and stamp his entry permit with a seal.
The secret relationship between Lamancha and Pirate Island was as rumored.
"I've heard the word. Let's go."
He followed the man onto the ship.
As the man had said, it took until the next afternoon for the ship to arrive at Pirate Island.
Pirate Island was surrounded by steep cliffs for most of its coastline, and the only entrance to the island was through the entrance of the bay, which was filled with numerous reefs.
It was a narrow place to the point that even one ship's passage would be difficult, but the ship he boarded skillfully rode the waves and entered the inner part of the island.
The bay inside the island was quite large.
A crescent-shaped pier surrounded them.
There were at least dozens of pirate ships anchored in the harbor.
Despite its infamous reputation, Freeport was very tidy.
Strictly speaking, it was not the pirates' hideout.
The leader of the pirates, "Clamp," frequented this place.
It was a place visited by his gang often.
"Hahaha! Hey, that's funny! Let's do it again!"
"Bring another crate of booze over here!"
"Hahaha! This is a riot! Those Navy guys!"
Inside the resort, a lively party was in full swing.
Pirates were gathered around the pool, under parasols, making a ruckus and smelling strongly of alcohol.
Prostitutes were serving them drinks.
Kids were having serious swimming competitions in the pool.
An old man with white hair was floating lazily on a tube.
A young man, after teasing the prostitutes with cheerful jokes, looked at Pierre and greeted him.
"Long time no see, Mr. Rouage."
"How have you been, Octopus Leg?"
"Haha! You remember me."
"It's your right leg I remember, not you."
The pirate known as "Octopus Leg" had an actual octopus leg instead of a human one, just as his nickname implied.
But that was not all.
Every pirate here had body parts that were not human. One had snake eyes on one side of his face, another had shark teeth in his mouth, and yet another had a hairy animal's foot instead of an arm.
And under the largest parasol, a massive man with a protruding belly held a giant claw in one hand.
He was the leader of this pirate crew.
"Welcome, Pierre."
"...Rouage."
What's with this guy's memory? Every time we meet...
Pierre muttered to himself.
"Oh, right. Come on, have a seat here. Hey, bring some drinks over here! Uh, what was it again?"
"Coffee."
"Oh, yeah! Coffee!"
Shortly after, a maid in a bunny costume brought a cup of coffee.
Instead of human ears, the girl had rabbit ears.
'Is she a pirate too?'
Pierre took a sip of the coffee and nodded in approval at the delightful aroma.
"Good coffee."
"Oh, what was it? We raided a Republican cargo ship not long ago and got this."
The man with the giant claw spoke as he examined Pierre's hand closely.
"One of your fingers is missing."
"A rat bit it off."
"Oh, rats are scary, aren't they? I once had my testicles almost bitten off... Anyway, don't worry. If you ask, Father will attach a new one for you. What would you like? A tiger?"
"That would be nice if you can. But there's something more important to discuss."
"Something more important than a finger? What is it?"
Pierre explained in detail what had happened at the mansion.
The leader listened with a relaxed expression, even laughing at some strange parts.
Damn, this guy is impossible to pin down.
This won't work.
"You shouldn't be laughing at a time like this. I don't know all the details, but I understand that your situation won't be good if your activities become known to the world. So please, arrange a meeting with that priest."
Despite Pierre's earnest request, the man with the giant claw continued to chuckle.
He took a sip of strong rum and shrugged.
"It doesn't seem like a big problem."
"You, did you really listen to what I said?"
"Of course! That...hehe...the guy you shot."
"Wait a minute."
Interrupting his words, a voice entered the room.
It was the voice of a young girl.
She was the bunny-eared maid who had been standing by with a tray.
She raised her arm to stop the man with the giant claw.
"What did you just say?"
She stared straight at Pierre.
Her tone carried an imposing presence.
Pierre's long experience told him that this was not the voice of an ordinary servant.
Something felt majestic about it.
A sudden change in the situation.
Pierre's mind began to race faster.
The only person who could interrupt and be treated with such respect was...
"Are you the priest...?"
"Yeah, that's right. You catch on quite fast."
She disdainfully addressed Pierre.
Pierre was quite surprised.
Was she the secretive leader of the growing cult in the Caribbean these days?
The bunny girl continued without giving him a chance to dwell on it.
"We'll talk about the details later. But first, tell me again. You said you shot that man?"
"Well, yes, but..."
"No, tell me again. You said you shot a woman named Anais, and he intervened and took the hit for her. Is that true?"
"Yes, that's accurate."
A smile formed on the bunny girl's lips as she heard his words.
However, it was not a joyful smile, but one filled with ominous energy.
The man with the giant claw, who had been sitting beside her, stiffened his expression, and his eyes rolled around.
"Zehaha, and the plot thickens!"