Where the Sun Doesn't Shine

Ian knew his original intentions weren't that noble. Lia, though frail, was also strong, and didn't need anyone's comfort.

Ian softly changed the subject: "Is the curse mage Avery still alive?"

Lia immediately replied: "He should be. His name is still on the pirate bounty list."

Ian pressed on: "Are you sure he's your enemy?"

Lia hesitated: "I'm not sure. I have no proof it was him, and Avery hasn't admitted it. If he did do it, he wouldn't have any reason to deny it."

She was only 19 then, her emotions consumed by hatred. Thinking back, she had been too reckless.

Ian looked up at the sky and the moon:

"Don't worry. Once we finish this business, we'll head to the southern seas. If we run into him, I'll pin him down here so you can get your answers."

Lia pursed her lips and smiled. She had no doubt Ian had the ability now.

"It's getting late. Get some rest. Milta, call me if you need anything."

Milta, who had been quietly listening, immediately responded: "Understood, Captain."

The lights of Storm Cape twinkled like scattered stars. Even late at night, the bustling commercial street was still noisy.

The Governor's Hall, located at the entrance to the port, was brightly lit. Under the glow of extravagant whale oil lamps, squads of guards patrolled, deterring the mixed crowd in the dock area.

"Any response from that Highland Earl recently?" the black and red-skinned Governor Tuare asked his assistant, glancing sideways.

His cloudy, triangular eyes, adorned with gold-rimmed glasses, looked incongruous. The sinister gaze reflected in the lenses sent a chill down the assistant's spine.

Although the Governor before him wasn't officially appointed, he was directly assigned by the Governor of Storm Cape. He couldn't afford to offend him.

The assistant bowed: "Your Excellency. The Highland Earl responded that his son is too young and he's not considering marriage for the time being."

Tuare snorted: "He doesn't know what's good for him!" He returned behind his desk and continued to flip through the noble registry.

Rebecca Calvinde was too much of an eyesore. Even if the Prince didn't care, his subordinates had to share his burdens. Find a ruined noble to marry this girl off far away, preferably have her quietly die of illness in some forgotten corner, and the matter would slowly fade from memory.

It was also this woman's own fault for being so foolish. If she had joined the Church of Truth and Justice after being saved, becoming a nun, no one could have done anything to her. As the foremost church of the primary deity, even the royal family had to defer to it.

"Aren't those river bend nobles always at odds with the Calvinde family? Send a letter to them, no, you go yourself. It doesn't matter if they're older. Get this done this month, do you hear me!"

The sharp voice made the assistant involuntarily shiver: "Yes, yes, I'll go right away, Your Excellency."

The assistant stumbled out of the room, inwardly lamenting.

Due to the system, the royal family had always been powerful, stifling the nobles.

This blatant display had already caused considerable controversy within noble circles. Did they really expect others to help clean up their mess? It wasn't like everyone would bow to the Second Prince before the struggle for the New World was settled!

"You've already done enough, Knight Roland." A deep voice echoed in the intersecting aisles of the church.

"In fact, I've done nothing. I, and everyone else, just watched it happen." The knight, clad in armor, his helmet resting on a nearby bench, spoke in a low, somewhat suppressed voice.

He had been silent for too long, only now releasing the voice of his heart.

A middle-aged knight in robes, with a thick beard and hair, suddenly strode to his side, pointing at the wall.

"Roland, look up at the holy emblem and tell me, has your faith not wavered?"

Roland lowered his head, his expression indifferent: "Ian once told me: 'Justice is like the sun, but it doesn't shine on everyone.' I laughed and told him: 'Then I will become the embodiment of justice, illuminating every corner.' But he always looked at me and smiled, saying nothing."

Only today did he begin to understand that look of regret – regret for two friends who had grown up inseparable, yet walked down different paths that would never cross again.

Roland finally understood why Ian had said he could never become a true believer like him.

Roland looked up at his worried mentor: "Not shining and not wanting to shine are two different things. Why is what you taught me completely different from what you do?"

The middle-aged knight sighed: "Roland, neither of us is wrong. It's just that your understanding of the doctrine is not deep enough. Justice isn't only about protecting the weak or upholding fairness. Justice is broad; for the greater good, purposeful justice is also justice."

Roland's lips curled up, his tone laced with self-mockery: "So, Calvinde is not part of the greater good. Then I, this Knight of Justice, am also very shallow!"

He stood up, picked up his helmet, bowed to his mentor, and turned to leave the aisle.

"I will only practice the justice I understand—" his firm voice slowly receded.

The golden-red sun shone brightly. The crew on the Swordfish took turns coming on deck to get some air and use the latrine, after which each received half a piece of Black Bread and a small cup of water mixed with Rum.

Everyone huddled, eerily quiet, their glances towards the mast filled with fear.

A crow with scarlet eyes stood on the broken mast. Three shriveled, ancient corpses hung below the mast, their mouths gaping in terror, as if they had experienced immense fear before death.

It was unrealistic to expect these sailors, who often moonlighted as pirates, to obey orders obediently. There were always some fools who thought they were clever and tried to stir up trouble.

The Evil Crow's first strike had intimidated everyone. The shrill screams, rapidly aging bodies, and soul-shattering tremors were deeply etched into the sailors' memories, appearing countless times in their dreams and becoming nightmares that would haunt them for the rest of their lives.

Ian and the other two stood on the quarterdeck platform of the Leviathan, eating fruit and watching from afar.

Ian was somewhat shocked by Beatrice's performance. He hadn't thought Beatrice's direct combat ability would be that strong. He hadn't expected that three very strong sailors would have no chance to resist it.

After devouring the three men, Beatrice's Spirituality and physical strength had both increased to varying degrees. The thought of getting stronger through killing was somewhat terrifying. It was best not to let anyone know.

Lia looked at Ian with some concern. The process of the crow killing the sailors looked bloody and evil. Could such a magical pet truly not erode and affect its master's Spirituality?!

Milta, munching on a cucumber, had no such worries. In his heart, the captain was wise and powerful, and whatever he did must have a reason he couldn't understand.

Ian gave Lia a reassuring look. He took out his pocket watch to check the time. Wawa would rest for another half day, and they would start picking up speed in the afternoon, aiming to reach Storm Cape by the 13th.

Ian tossed the pocket watch in his hand to Lia: "Here! Replace that antique of yours."