Jeremiah

Inside, the two pirates' eyes fell on him.

A casual voice rang out.

"You're too slow. Do you even want to pay your taxes? I don't have all day to waste here!"

Alexei frowned. Ever since he'd stepped through the door, he'd smelled the strong stench of alcohol.

He looked into the room without expression. It was bare of any unnecessary decorations. A heavy table stood in the middle, with parchment and ink bottles neatly arranged on it. A pair of filthy deerskin boots rested on the tabletop, swinging impatiently.

The man lounged against the back of his chair. Several empty bottles lay scattered around his feet, and he held another in his hand. It clinked against the cutlass at his waist.

"Kid, I remember you." He raised his bottle and glanced sideways at Alexei by the door. "Your so-called count didn't dare come himself again, did he? Doesn't matter. As long as you pay your taxes on time, the Black Sail doesn't care whose name is on this place."

The Black Sail Fleet of Gem Bay had no rivals across the Storm Ocean. Whenever it sailed the seas, even the Empire's navy retreated to port to avoid its might.

The man lifted the bottle to his mouth and gulped. Amber liquor trickled from the corner of his lips, ran through his curled beard and over his cravat, then dripped onto his filthy clothes.

"Hm? Empty?" He drunkenly raised his head and waved the bottle before his eyes. "If you ask me, fruit wine's the only decent thing on this lousy island."

Then he flung his hand, sending the bottle in an arc to the floor beside Alexei. It rolled away with a gurgle, splashing liquor onto his polished military boots.

"Kid, go get me two more bottles."

Good. Looks like he didn't need to think of a way to provoke a confrontation.

He set the documents aside, strode forward, and stopped in front of the pirate. Without expression, he looked down at the man by the table.

They said the people of the northern White Crow Duchy had giant's blood in their veins. When Alexei stood straight, he was nearly as tall as the doorframe. In the midday sun, his pale blond hair, so fair it was almost transparent, seemed to shimmer like cold mist. He had taken only one step, yet the pirate at the table felt as if a wall had come crashing down on him.

A flash of panic crossed the pirate's face, but then he seemed to remember something. He stayed where he was and instead gave Alexei a mocking smile.

In the corner of the room, a figure slowly rose from the shadow cast by the wall and cabinet.

As he stood, the light in the room seemed to dim.

Alexei felt his whole body seize up. The air around him seemed to turn to mud. His vision gradually darkened, while the man in the shadows loomed ever larger.

The man was powerfully built, his bulging bronze muscles like an anvil battered by a blacksmith. He had no hair—not even eyebrows—and every visible inch of skin was covered in black lines and symbols of varying thickness. They looked twisted and eerie.

But what frightened Alexei most were his eyes. At the center of each pale eyeball was not a human round pupil, but a rectangular one like a cold-blooded animal's.

Clammy, cold, slick, twisted.

All sounds gradually faded away. It was as if he had plunged alone into the Deep Sea, the clamor of the world reduced to muffled gurgling above the surface. The strange man was all that remained in his sight.

A jumble of noises came from beside him... No, they hadn't begun just now. They had been there all along; he simply hadn't noticed them until this moment.

The Tattooed Man stared at him, though it seemed his gaze wasn't fixed on Alexei at all, but on something behind him. Alexei stared blankly into the man's black, abyss-like rectangular pupils. They seemed like a door.

A door slowly opening.

Suddenly, a hand came down on Alexei's shoulder.

The endless fall stopped, as if someone had caught him.

"What are you standing around for? Our guests want a drink. Go get them a bottle."

Theus turned to the pirate at the table and smiled, baring his white teeth. "Two bottles of gold rum. No tabs."

Alexei finally came to his senses. He coughed violently, spitting out some water as if he'd been choking.

"Two bottles of gold rum?! Why don't you just rob me? You dare try to cheat Captain Jeremiah?" The pirate sprang to his feet with a sneer and swept back his coat. A cutlass and two flintlock pistols gleamed in his belt.

Then, as if he'd remembered something, he discreetly glanced at the Tattooed Man behind him.

Jeremiah's pupils narrowed slightly when he saw that the usually expressionless man had a look of confusion on his face.

That man was hesitating? He could hesitate? Jeremiah knew who he was: a subordinate of the Pirate King, a man even he couldn't order around.

Jeremiah let go of his coat, which fell back into place, and sat down again. "I'm here to collect sea taxes on behalf of the Governor. Is this how you treat your guests?"

Jeremiah wasn't particularly strong. He'd become a pirate captain by knowing which way the wind blew, and the moment he sensed something was off, he started acting reasonable.

Theus gently patted Alexei's back. Once he saw that Alexei had stopped coughing and was breathing evenly again, he sat at the table and faced the pirate captain, who was pretending to be calm.

Jeremiah snorted and pulled a dirty roll of parchment from inside his coat.

"This is the Governor's tax list. It shows all the taxes Castel owes."

He slapped the parchment on the table and pushed it across, then leaned back with an expression that said he was ready to enjoy the show.

The list was genuine. The Pirate King had indeed given them a list to collect taxes, but...

It was written in pirate script.

Pirate script was a broad term. Most pirates were illiterate, and they used a crude system of pictures and marks to record the treasures they'd plundered.

Over time, it had developed into a simple written language. It was at least good enough for basic communication, and after the ruler of Gem Bay united the pirates across the Storm Ocean, he began requiring them all to use pirate script.

It hadn't been long since then, and Jeremiah was confident Theus couldn't read the tax list written in pirate script.

Heh. Noble, try being illiterate for a change. He'd have to think of how to mock the count in a moment.

He shouldn't go too far, of course. Jeremiah wasn't ready to burn bridges. Still, watching this pampered noble throw a fit ought to be entertaining.

Just as he was about to enjoy the spectacle, Theus's next words made him freeze.

"No need to look. Starting today, Castel will no longer pay sea taxes."