The First Crew Member

On the fourth floor of the tower, Ian finished his alchemy for the day and discovered that Wawa was still asleep.

Wawa's head was about to become wider than the doorway. The next time he went outside, he'd have to break down a wall.

But considering how thick the tower's walls were, Ian simply wrapped Wawa in burlap, covered him with Magical Cloth, and carried him all the way up to the rooftop observation deck.

"Put up with this for now. Once you wake up, you'll need to get used to the sea anyway."

To keep the Magical Cloth from blowing away, Ian nailed it firmly to the ground.

There was no telling when Wawa would wake, so Ian decided not to go out for the time being.

In the afternoon, Ian spent his time meditating and practicing alchemy.

He had plenty of spiritual power and Mana to spare since he didn't need to supply Wawa, so he decided to make more Enchanted Weapon Oil in preparation for the auction.

By evening, the sea breeze had grown stronger, and the workers had all gone home.

Ian set the dinner delivered from the Barley Tavern on the fourth-floor dining table. Just as he was about to eat, he sensed someone approaching the tower.

A Breath of the Ocean carriage stopped outside the tower's entrance. Lia was waiting at the door with a thin, small figure.

"Milta?"

The small figure waiting at the door was Milta, the young crew member of the Windbreaker.

Milta spotted Ian opening the door and bowed in greeting, delighted. "Mr. Trist."

Lia suddenly spoke up beside him:

"He came to Breath of the Ocean looking for you. He said he had a letter to deliver, so I brought him here."

The sea wind howled, making it difficult to hear.

Ian quickly ushered Lia and Milta into the tower's fourth floor. The moment he closed the door, the room grew much quieter.

"Have you eaten?"

Ian asked them both.

"I have. You two talk."

Lia sat down to one side, giving Ian and Milta some time alone.

Milta seemed hesitant, and Ian could tell at a glance that he hadn't eaten.

"Sit down and eat first."

Milta obediently sat down, then sprang back up at once. He took a gray, paper-sealed letter from inside his clothes and handed it to Ian.

"The captain asked me to deliver this letter to you, Mr. Trist."

Ian took the letter and saw that his name was written on it. The signature was indeed Homan's.

"Did Captain Homan say anything else?"

"No. The captain only told me to deliver the letter."

Ian put a fish fillet and some bread on the small table nearby for Milta, then opened the letter and began to read.

Captain Homan mentioned two important things in his letter.

The first was that the Windbreaker had been requisitioned—or, more precisely, that every ship owned by the Hansa Trading Company had been requisitioned.

The ships were to be loaded with supplies and set sail tomorrow to rendezvous with the Royal Niger Company's fleet before heading straight for the Lucia Archipelago.

The requisition had come from the Poldoria Kingdom's Naval Ministry, which intended to transport supplies for the colonization of the New Continent.

Although the Windbreaker was registered under the Hansa Trading Company, it was Captain Homan's personal property.

He could have refused, but the Naval Ministry had offered terms he couldn't turn down.

The Windbreaker had already been placed under the Naval Ministry's flag. A large number of new crew members had been assigned to it, most of its senior officers had been replaced, and a few sailors deemed unfit had been kicked off. It had been almost completely overhauled.

Milta was undoubtedly among those considered unfit.

Ian glanced at Milta, who was eating quietly and hadn't said a word about the matter, but didn't ask him about it right away.

The second piece of news was that Bloody Hand Collier was dead.

Yesterday, the Royal Niger Company had announced that they'd killed Collier and captured the Bloody Hand Pirate Ship, then claimed the bounty with his head.

According to the Royal Niger Company's public statement, they'd encountered the Bloody Hand Pirates while hunting Blackbeard.

They'd also confirmed that the Bloody Hand Pirates had been Blackbeard's accomplices in the attack on Storm Cape, but hadn't managed to join up with him that day because of the rough seas.

Aside from those two matters, the rest of the letter was full of empty pleasantries and greetings.

The two seemingly unrelated developments sent Ian a clear signal: the struggle over the New Continent had begun, and the powers of the various nations were entering the fray!

Ian suddenly turned to Lia. "Lia, have there been any recent reports from the New Continent?"

Lia paused, then replied, "There hasn't been any new information so far. But there is something related to it.

"The Poldoria Naval Ministry wanted to absorb the Whaling Group and form the Fourth Fleet. But the group leader turned them down."

Ian paused. The Naval Ministry had a huge appetite. He was curious what sort of terms they'd offered to bring the Whaling Group into the fold.

The Whaling Group had one sailing warship built to the standard of a fourth-rate heavy cruiser, four fifth-rate cruisers, and nine sixth-rate frigates.

If first- through third-rate battleships weren't so cumbersome and unsuited to long voyages and pursuit, it wouldn't have been impossible for the Whaling Group to acquire one.

Although the hunt for the Extraordinary Terror Blind Whale had damaged several of its sixth-rate ships, it hadn't hurt the group's core strength. In terms of power, it was no weaker than the kingdom's Third Fleet, which lacked both people and ships.

Ian stroked his chin, deep in thought. The turmoil in Paradise Port had probably only just begun. The various powers could no longer hold back.

A restlessness stirred in his heart. This was his chance to fish in troubled waters and seize an opportunity for revenge.

"Milta, you've left the Windbreaker, haven't you?"

Seeing that Milta had nearly finished eating, Ian suddenly asked.

Milta froze for a moment.

When the other sailors had been driven off the ship, he'd been grateful for his own good fortune.

But today, the captain had asked him to deliver a letter and told him he didn't need to come back afterward.

Milta had been overwhelmed by panic. He'd been abandoned again. He didn't know where to go. He had no home.

Clutching the gold coin the captain had pressed into his hand, he wandered aimlessly through Paradise Port, taking the wrong turn several times. It wasn't until the sun was about to set that he hurriedly made his way to Breath of the Ocean.

Milta came back to himself, avoided Ian's gaze, and lowered his head. "Y-yes."

Only two people in his life had ever treated him gently: the mother who'd raised him, and Mr. Trist.

He could accept everyone looking down on him, but he couldn't bear to face their eyes.

Ian pretended not to notice Milta's discomfort and grinned. "That's great news."

Milta looked up in surprise. "Huh?"

"I have a ship of my own, and I'm short on experienced sailors. Milta, would you be willing to work for me?"

Ian had thought the decision through carefully. Milta was weak and thin, but he had two qualities the other sailors lacked.

For one, he was fairly clever and logical in both speech and action. Captain Homan liked assigning him small jobs, and he always did them well.

For another, he didn't have the bad habits the other sailors had.

Sailors in this era drank too much, gambled, fought, neglected their hygiene, and had few good habits to speak of.

Milta was probably a decent one, thanks to his mother's influence when he was young.

At Ian's offer, delight showed on Milta's face, but he didn't dare accept.

"I... but I'm not very strong. I'm no good at anything..."

Ian could see Milta's hesitation and smiled. "Nobody's born knowing how to do everything. If you have no objections, then it's settled.

"The second floor is a storeroom with spare supplies. Pick a room on the third floor and settle in. Go on."

Ian tossed Milta a set of keys and sent him downstairs to rest.

Milta caught the keys in a fluster, stared at them for a moment, then clutched them, his face alight with excitement.

"Thank you, Mr. Trist. From now on, your will is my mission!"

Watching Milta stumble through a phrase he'd picked up somewhere, Ian didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He waved him downstairs.