Blackbeard Monk lay listlessly in an empty carriage, a long blade of wild grass dangling from his mouth as he rolled his eyes at the sky.
This was the lead carriage of a long convoy. Of nearly a hundred carriages, only Monk's had an idle man lying in it; all the others were packed full of pungent refined tung oil.
This refined tung oil had all been rendered from the fruit of black-scaled broadleaf tung trees. It was the finest preservative and sealant for ship planks. Through his own channels, Monk had recently acquired several large armed merchant ships fresh from the factory, before they had even received the most basic maintenance. To pirates, warships were their lifeblood. For the sake of these vessels, Monk had no choice but to personally purchase tung oil and prepare to give the ships their final maintenance.
"Why did I have to leave my beloved warships and come ashore to ride in these damned, snail-slow carriages?" Monk cursed indistinctly.
"It's just a little tung oil, yet I, the great King of the North Sea, Monk, have to come personally." Monk furiously sent his regards to every direct relative Arthur had: "That damned bastard emptied out the young and able-bodied men from several northern provinces. Now the merchant guilds don't even deliver goods for their clients anymore! Damn it, so much tung oil, and we have to haul it back to our lair ourselves!"
With a long sigh, Monk spat the blade of grass from his mouth far away, then spat heavily on the ground several times.
"Arthur, I really want to use a thick wolf-tooth club to teach your ass what rough treatment feels like!" As a qualified pirate chief, Monk's words were naturally anything but elegant. He muttered with several subordinates riding beside