"That's right—the one who likes giving the sailors lessons, 'Admiral of Iceberg.'"
The bartender behind the counter nodded repeatedly.
"They say a batch of sailors gets off the Golden Dream every month because they can't stand having to attend lessons every day even after becoming pirates."
Cyril smiled and was just about to join in when a rough voice from behind interrupted him:
"That's Admiral of Iceberg you're talking about! What's wrong with lessons? If you don't take lessons first, how are you supposed to get into bed?"
"Those useless fools on the Golden Dream couldn't even get from lessons to bed with Edwina."
Noticing the bartender take half a step back and the few drinkers who had been gathered around the counter move away one after another, Cyril turned around curiously to look at the man who had suddenly joined the conversation.
He was a tall, burly man wearing a black gauntlet on one hand. His face was covered in stubble, his skin was rough and dark, and it was obvious that he had spent a long time at sea.
After seeing the other man clearly, a wanted poster he had seen before quickly sprang to Cyril's mind:
"Great Shark" Jorg?
"Great Shark" Jorg glanced at him. His eyes paused slightly before he lifted his chin and said:
"That's right. You know me too?"
Cyril nodded lightly. "Mm. The third boatswain of Vice Admiral Deep Sea. Bounty: 5,200 pounds."
66
The expression on "Great Shark" Jorg's face stiffened, and his already dark complexion seemed to grow even darker.
"What? You want to collect my bounty?"
He snorted softly, then stared at Cyril and said each word distinctly:
"Painter" Randolph Carter. Unknown origins. He was wanted by the Church of Storms in the Rorsted Archipelago and the surrounding waters just