After drinking his fill, Race swaggered out of the tavern with Gin and a group of subordinates in tow. The tavern owner, intimidated, didn't dare to approach them for payment.
The remaining patrons in the tavern watched the group leave with complex expressions. Some looked relieved, others disgusted, while a few showed envy.
In the turbulent era of great pirates, everyone knew that not all pirates met a good end. The Navy and World Government tirelessly pursued them, even publicly executing infamous ones. Yet, the allure of becoming a pirate persisted, as people yearned for glory—be it fleeting or enduring.
Following Race, Gin arrived at the docks. The once-bustling harbor, filled with dockworkers, merchants shouting orders, and loud sailors, had transformed into a pirate haven. Now, only a rowdy group of pirates remained, brazenly drinking and chatting.
Cigarette butts, empty bottles, and food scraps littered the ground. The commercial ships that once docked here had fled, leaving behind abandoned goods. The pirates helped themselves, rummaging through the cargo for valuables to pocket while discarding anything deemed worthless.
Chaos—that was Gin's first impression. However, having lived with the Danton Pirates for some time, he was no stranger to pirate behavior and wasn't surprised.
Gin's attention shifted to the pirate ship moored nearby. Gazing up, the towering bow and stern exuded an oppressive presence. The cannons gleamed in the sunlight, and a group of gunners sat by the mooring posts, animatedly discussing the destructive power of their artillery.
Race led Gin and the group through the disorder and onto their warship via a wooden plank. Some older pirates pointed at Gin's back, whispering amongst themselves.
As they boarded, a young man with round glasses stopped Race.
"Vice-Captain, you need to handle the situation at the docks. I tried to inventory the goods left by the merchant ships, but the chaos makes it impossible," the young man said, pushing up his glasses with visible frustration.
Gin glanced at the youth, intrigued. Unlike the other pirates, this man seemed entirely out of place.
Pirates didn't have uniforms like the Navy and dressed in various styles, yet they all shared a certain untidiness. This stemmed from their harsh living conditions—water was precious, leaving little for hygiene—and a penchant for alcohol, which was more easily stored than fresh water.
Yet, despite faint sweat stains on his cuffs and collar, the man before Gin made an effort to stay clean and wore a formal suit, an odd choice for a pirate.
From what Gin had gathered, this was the ship's quartermaster, the mysterious Gin.
Race frowned at Gin's complaints and asked, "Where's the captain?"
"The captain is bathing, and Mr. Hailerding is discussing our next course of action with him," Gin replied, sparing Gin a cursory glance before returning his focus to Race.
Race briefly surveyed the chaotic docks and dismissed Gin's concerns with a wave of his hand. "It's too late to stop them now. I'll speak with the captain."
Gin hesitated but didn't press further. He had been selected by Arkadio from his trade company to serve on this pirate ship, a decision he deeply resented. At this point, Gin was not the feared East Blue pirate he would become but a small-time figure trying to survive by clinging to Arkadio's influence.
Gin's role was to manage the pirate crew's supplies and secretly oversee their loot, as part of it was owed to Arkadio.
Watching the pirates pillage the cargo, Gin felt frustrated. Others might ignore the small loss to avoid conflict, but Gin, desperate to leave this wretched pirate life, tried to impress Arkadio with his diligence.
Naturally, this only deepened the pirates' dislike for him. Race, aware of Gin's background, maintained a wary distance.
Not giving Gin a chance to continue, Race signaled a few trusted men to stay behind while he led Gin to the captain's quarters.
Before entering, Race knocked gently on the door.
A sharp, grating voice answered from within, "Who is it?"
"Hailerding, it's me, Race," he replied, glancing at Gin. "I brought a newcomer with promising skills for the captain to meet."
"Wait a moment," Hailerding's shrill voice responded.
After some shuffling inside, the heavy door creaked open. Stepping in, Gin immediately noticed a grotesque, scarred man standing by the door.
Hailerding! From the moment Gin saw him, he knew.
The disfigured man, with half his face ruined, was the ship's navigator, notorious for his violent temper.
Hailerding caught Gin's gaze and grinned, his twisted expression made all the more sinister in the dimly lit room.
According to Ward's account, Valon had fallen into Hailerding's hands, where he'd been maimed and thrown to the sharks.
Though a surge of killing intent rose within Gin, he feigned fear, averting his eyes.
Hailerding, pleased by this reaction, laughed even harder.
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