Half Truth, Half Lie

After speaking, the noblewoman lifted her chin at Roger and waited for his reply.

"The bounty is too low. The enemy are pirate desperadoes, not street rabble or lowborn trash. With so little reward, who would risk their life? Does the Baroness want young master John's first appearance to end with clipped wings? Four pounds."

"One and a half pounds. Do not think your lives are worth so much."

"Three pounds. Do not think young master John's face is worth so little."

"One and a half pounds. If you dare talk back to me again, I will have you sent to the cellar for a few days." The middle-aged noblewoman was already somewhat angered. If not for her only son, she would never have been willing to waste another word on this bastard.

Roger sighed inwardly. The old ginger was still the spicier one.

But he had never expected the castle to hand over a sum of silver so readily. He had started with an outrageously high price; if they had been unwilling to bargain on the spot, so be it.

After all, what he truly wanted was John's title as lord and the equipment in the castle armory.

One and a half pounds in silver was undoubtedly another huge sum for Roger as he was now, and it gave him one more measure of confidence in victory.

"Very well, Baroness. You have won completely." Roger intended to carry the act through to the end and added, "The bounty is all there is, but I need to borrow one of the mongrel horses from the castle stables."

"If we are truly defeated, I will at least be able to flee faster. I imagine you do not want me killed either, do you? At the very least, my uncle, who cares so much for appearances, would not want a member of the Campbell Lineage killed by pirates."

"That would be the true disgrace of the Campbell Lineage." Roger wore his usual roguish grin.

The middle-aged noblewoman shot Roger a disdainful glance. Unwilling to remain for even another minute, she turned and ordered the steward behind her, "Do as I said just now, but keep a close eye on him. Do not let him run."

The steward acknowledged in a low voice. When he raised his head to look at Roger, something complicated suddenly flickered in his eyes.

Roger did not notice the steward's gaze. With his objective largely achieved, he felt more settled inside.

"Future Baron, I shall await you at the gates of the Red Mill at noon."

With that, he strode out the door, casually taking the bottle of wine from the study with him...

Northern Allen Island, outside Rocklanza Village, beside a dry riverbed.

This place lay roughly ten miles in a straight line from Brodick. Beside the dry riverbed stood an abandoned watermill.

A great waterwheel hung low by the dry riverbed. If water passed through it, the wheel would turn a shaft that ran through the mill's side wall.

It was a sturdy wooden mechanism, built to last. Whoever had built the mill had clearly intended to use it for many years.

But they could never have imagined that less than three years after the mill was built, the Ethan River would change course in a minor earthquake. Deprived of its water source, the mill was abandoned. Now it had become the pirates' nest on Allen Island, sitting alone outside the village.

North of the abandoned mill, a cog with its sails lowered was moored in a cove by the headland.

In the clearing beside the abandoned mill, Ponytail, dressed in a tattered short shirt that exposed his flesh and wearing a pair of horse-dung-caked battered shoes, leaned crookedly against a pile of hay.

His ponytail had been torn loose again, and several more bruises had appeared on his face. Bloody snot soon ran over his swollen lips. His clothes had been ripped to shreds, and even the battered shoes smeared with horse dung had been tossed aside.

Sure enough, he had taken another savage beating. The ones who had done it were the two pirate lackeys from the tavern yesterday afternoon.

At that moment, five or six core members of the pirates were holding a secret discussion inside the mill, leaving two recently coerced fishermen to guard Ponytail.

At a glance, several pirate lackeys could also be seen keeping watch on the small hill near the mill. Arguments and curses drifted from inside the mill from time to time.

After a long while, several of the pirates' leading figures emerged from the mill.

The man in front had fair, rather delicate features. If not for the murderous single-edged longsword in his hand, it would have been difficult to associate him with pirates. Yet he was precisely the second-in-command of this pirate band, known as Sea Monster.

"Speak. Were you sent to assassinate us?" Sea Monster viciously pressed his longsword against Ponytail's throat. The tip sliced open a small cut, and blood squeezed out through it.

Ponytail was truly terrified. He retreated again and again, only for the hay behind him to block his escape. Unable to hold it in, urine ran down his trouser leg and quickly flowed to Sea Monster's feet.

Sea Monster lowered his head and saw the urine on his soles. He hurriedly withdrew his blade and leaped away, fury surging up as he cursed loudly, "You spineless bastard."

With the blade no longer against him, Ponytail suddenly relaxed and burst into loud sobs. "Yesterday, he only told us to cause trouble at the Red Mill and lure out an honored guest. How could I have known he actually meant to assassinate the chief?"

"I, Earl, may be a rogue and a street thug, but I was once one of the chief's men. How would I dare kill the chief?"

"Now I have risked my life to escape and warn you, all to leave the boys a path to live. Why are you treating me like this?" Ponytail kept slapping the ground before him, scattering urine-soaked hay in every direction and making the nearby pirates retreat again and again.

"You say those bastards are planning to ambush us. How can you prove it?" A fierce pirate with a wrinkled face brushed the hay from his shoulder and demanded.

"How can I prove it? If you do not believe me, send someone to Brodick and see for yourselves whether islanders are gathering there."

Ponytail's snot had already smeared across his entire mouth. Every time he shouted a sentence, a string of snot bubbles blew out, disgusting the surrounding pirates.

In truth, the pirates already believed him seven or eight parts out of ten. This thug named Earl had always been a coward. He would not have had the nerve to come to their nest and deceive them, nor did he pose any threat.

"Second-in-command, it seems that bastard John truly intends to wipe us out."

"Why do we not withdraw? We can avenge the chief later." The speaker was a neatly dressed man with sharp eyes. He looked twenty-five or twenty-six, yet carried a weathered air.

However, those who drifted at sea year-round endured wind and sun, so his true age might have been younger.

He was the third-in-command of this pirate band, Olaf. He had no nickname. According to his own account, he was the second son of some fallen minor lord on the mainland. After accidentally killing a country squire, he had fled for his life and been forced to become a sea raider.

Hearing that the third-in-command wanted to flee, the heroic air on the second-in-command's face turned savage. He snorted coldly. "Run? Who dares run? Until we avenge the chief, anyone who wants to run can ask whether the blade in my hand agrees!"

With that, he viciously kicked Ponytail, shoved aside the pirates blocking his way, and stormed back into the mill.

The third-in-command swallowed his anger. He glanced at the second-in-command's back, then turned and regained some of his composure. He ordered the two fishermen guarding Ponytail, "Take him to change into clean clothes. Keep him under watch beside you."

Ponytail felt as though he had received a pardon. He immediately crawled over, dropped to his knees, and repeatedly kowtowed in thanks. The instant he buried his head against the ground, a glint of smugness flashed across his bruised and swollen face.