Chapter 16: Persona

Chapter 16: Persona

One of the burly men confronting each other wore a blue-and-white striped shirt unique to the navy, yet his arms remained bare in weather that was close to freezing.

He held a dagger against the throat of the man opposite him, but his own forehead was being aimed at by an ancient hand cannon old enough to belong in a museum.

The owner of the hand cannon was likewise over 1.8 meters tall, with firm muscles and an oily sheen on his face. He had shaved his head, tattooed a sea eagle on it, and was cursing loudly.

“Shit navy!

“No one in Damir Harbor has ever dared slander me as a pirate’s informant!”

The sailor cursed back without the slightest weakness, and both sides fully displayed the rich vocabulary of profanity that belonged to the sea.

Klein watched for a few seconds, then circled around along the edge and arrived beside Captain Elland, who carried a straight sword at his waist and concealed a hand cannon. Calmly and casually, he asked, “What happened?”

“A quarrel between two drunks. In Damir Harbor and the nearby waters, there has always been a rumor that ‘Sea Eagle’ Logan serves the master of the Black Tulip. That sailor mentioned it just now and happened to be overheard by Sea Eagle.”

The master of the Black Tulip? Isn’t that Admiral Hell Ludwell? Klein turned and sat on the high stool in front of the bar, lightly tapping the wooden counter.

“A glass of Southville beer.”

“Six pence.” The bartender, whose skin was bronze and whose teeth were white, wiped a glass and spoke without the slightest enthusiasm.

Prices for land specialties are quite a bit higher than in Backlund and Tingen… Klein took out a handful of copper coins and counted six pence for the other man.

At this moment, the conflict between Logan and the sailor was stopped by the bar’s guards. Each side hurled threats as they retreated toward different corners.

Perhaps because he had lost face, the sailor hurriedly left after barely ten seconds. The bar’s atmosphere became lively again.

“Do you want to play cards?” Captain Elland asked, pointing toward the staircase at the side of the bar.

“No.” Klein’s main purpose was to gather information.

Elland subconsciously wanted to pat his shoulder, but was stopped by his cold and sharp aura. He could only follow the motion and smooth his dark-red coat instead, offering a reminder.

“Do not look for women here.”

Klein nodded, picked up the cup filled with Southville beer, and gulped down a mouthful.

“Also, do not trust anyone here. Only a very small portion of what they say is true.” Holding his own glass of spirits, Liege, Elland stepped onto the staircase leading to the second floor.

Klein turned his head to glance at him. With his expression unchanged, he asked in reply, “Including you?”

“…Perhaps.” Elland first froze, then burst into laughter. “At least the reminders I just gave are true. Mm, and it is also true that I am a man!”

That is not necessarily so… In this “World,” there is a potion called Witch… Klein withdrew his gaze. While leisurely drinking, he listened to the surrounding drinkers boast.

Two or three minutes later, a short, thin man carried his drink over and sat beside Klein.

“Mate, you look like an adventurer.” He turned his head slightly and smiled.

The man who had greeted him had black hair and blue eyes. His features looked old, and his temperament was rather wretched.

“You could say that,” Klein replied coldly.

“I can tell. You are a hunter, a hunter who pursues bounties and wealth.” The short man looked left and right, lowered his head, and pressed his voice low. “Have you heard of the Ghost Empire?”

I have heard of Amway, and I have also heard of the Heavenly Father and Savior sealed at the bottom of the sea… Klein used the abilities of a Faceless to emanate the signal that he did not wish to be approached.

“I know. An enormous, ancient ghost ship filled with treasure.”

“We have clues about it!” The short man spoke in an infectious tone. “We found some documents and know where it will appear next! We do not wish to make things cheap for the pirates or the navy, nor do we wish our wealth to be seized by others. Therefore, we have decided to rent an armed merchant ship ourselves and wait in those waters. This will require roughly one thousand pounds. I have already found fifteen companions and gathered seven hundred and twenty pounds. Are you interested in joining?”

Without waiting for Klein to speak, he rummaged around and took out a stack of yellow-brown letters.

“I know you will not believe it easily. In truth, no one would. But the previous fifteen friends all decided to join our plan after reading these materials.”

…Do I have a face that looks easy to swindle? Or is it that every outsider is unable to escape this sort of thing? Klein was considering whether to appraise those letters when, from the corner of his eye, he saw Sea Eagle Logan, who had been arguing with someone earlier, walk over.

“Woody, you are cheating people again! You rat who deserves to die in sewage!” Logan grabbed the short man and threw him into the open space at the center of the bar, sending him sprawling on all fours.

The burly man with the blue tattoo on his head took the seat Woody had just occupied and laughed heartily.

“Sorry about that. He is a rat of our Damir Harbor, always doing things that ruin our reputation.

“In truth, we are all quite friendly. If there is anything you want to ask about, just come to me.

“Heh, do not believe those fellows’ slander. I am an upright man and have nothing whatsoever to do with Admiral Hell!”

The more you emphasize that, the more suspicious you sound… Klein thought for a moment, then, with his expression unchanged and tone calm, said, “I want to know the recent rumors.”

“No problem.” Sea Eagle Logan slapped the bar counter and said to the bartender, “Bring a plate of special cured meat. I will treat this mate to our most famous delicacy in Damir.”

The bartender still had that cold face. He pushed through the door into the kitchen at the back, and soon returned carrying a plate of finely sliced cured meat, distinct red and white layers with delicate texture.

“Five pounds.” He did not look at Sea Eagle Logan, but stared directly at Klein.

“Five pounds.” Sea Eagle Logan turned his head, smiling warmly while lifting his arm slightly to display his muscles. “Everyone just heard it. To thank me, you are treating me to special cured meat.”

For a moment, Klein actually failed to react to what had happened. Only when the bartender urged him a second time did he understand that he was being extorted, and that the other party’s routine ran rather deep.

First they use a scam that is very easy to see through, letting Sea Eagle Logan make his entrance and smoothly gain the target’s goodwill. Then, under the pretext of offering a treat, they order an expensive plate of special cured meat. Finally, they deny what happened, reverse black and white, and force the sale… No wonder none of the drunks jeered when “Rat” Woody was thrown out… They are all very afraid of Logan, who is supposedly in the service of Admiral Hell… How should I respond? My current persona is Gehrman Sparrow, a slightly mad adventurer and bounty hunter… Klein lifted his cup and took a sip of beer rich with the fragrance of malt. In an ordinary tone, he asked, “Why not just rob me directly?”

“Why not just rob you directly?” Logan was somewhat stunned by the question.

Immediately after, he saw a fist growing larger and larger.

Thud!

Klein swung his left fist and struck Sea Eagle Logan’s jaw, sending him flipping backward toward the bar.

Supporting himself with his right palm, Klein nimbly left his chair and approached Logan’s falling body.

His thigh tightened, and his knee suddenly drove upward, slamming straight into Logan’s lower abdomen.

Pfft! Logan arched backward, eyes bulging and mouth half open.

Klein drew his gun in the same motion and shoved the revolver into the other man’s mouth, pulling back the hammer.

“I—I am…” Logan shouted indistinctly.

Klein stared into his eyes, then suddenly pulled the revolver back and swung it fiercely, striking Logan’s cheek with both the grip and his fist.

Logan’s teeth immediately fell out one after another, his mouth filled with blood.

Faced with such a heavy blow and pain beyond his limit, his eyes rolled back, and he fainted on the spot.

Klein held up his body and found a messy handful of banknotes and coins in his pockets.

Because, at a glance, they did not exceed five pounds, Klein directly tossed them onto the bar and said calmly, “Keep the change.”

The bartender’s bronze face turned a little pale, and he shouted in panic, “My boss is White Shark!”

Klein did not even glance at him. He released his hand, allowing Sea Eagle Logan to collapse to the floor. Then he sat down again, forked up a slice of cured meat, and placed it in his mouth to taste. He felt the flavor was rather unique. The taste of the spices diffused outward thread by thread, scratching at his stomach and throat.

Only after eating two slices did he raise his head and ask, “Does your boss know you are colluding with Sea Eagle?”

“No. He—no…” the bartender stammered in reply.

Seeing that Klein showed no sign of continuing his attack, and that he had readily paid the money, the several guards who had drawn closer silently retreated again.

Klein took a sip of beer, glanced at Sea Eagle Logan on the floor, and calmly asked the bartender, “If he is Ludwell’s informant, how much of a bounty can be claimed?”

“No, he is not.” The bartender shook his head. “Those are all rumors he spread himself. That sailor just now was someone he paid to come here! Only like that could he make people here afraid of him…”

Hearing this answer, the people drinking at the bar all put down their cups in astonishment. There was even a drunkard who staggered over to Logan’s side and spat onto his face.

Ptui! Ptui! Ptui! Many drinkers followed suit one after another.

Klein lowered his head again. While eating the special cured meat, he said, “Tell me the recent rumors.”

The bartender let out a breath of relief. While wiping glasses, he intermittently introduced the rumors from the past two months. Some Klein had heard of, while others he had only just learned about.

The Royal Navy’s ironclad, the Pritz, destroyed a passing pirate crew during routine training… Panic over giant ships and cannons has begun spreading among certain small and mid-sized pirate forces… Some of them want to take advantage of the fact that the ironclad fleet has not yet fully formed to commit crimes frantically, make a sum of money, and retire from the trade… The seas will not be calm for the next half a year to a year… Admiral of Blood Senor and Vice Admiral Twilight Bratov Ivan clashed in the waters south of Sonia Island and fought a major battle, each losing two ships… Klein only listened and did not ask questions, gradually filling his stomach.

Seeing that the plate that had held the special cured meat was empty, he drank the rest of his beer and slowly stood.

“Remember today’s lesson.” Klein handed the plate to the bartender.

Just as the bartender was about to reach out, Klein suddenly extended his hand and grabbed the hair at the back of his head.

Bang!

Klein pressed down hard, smashing the bartender’s head against the bar counter. Wood splinters flew, blood flowed out, drinkers scattered to avoid them, and the guards rushed over at high speed.

After doing all this, Klein clapped his hands, picked up his own cup, and attempted to pour the remaining dregs of alcohol inside over the bartender’s head.

One drop, two drops, three drops…

Klein silently gave up. He turned, bent down, grabbed Sea Eagle Logan, and threw him toward the approaching guards.

Taking advantage of the guards dodging and the chaos in the bar, Klein ran swiftly, circled nimbly, and easily left the Flying Fish and Wine.

He pressed down on his hat, strode forward, and turned into the nearby street.

After changing directions several times in succession, he suddenly slowed his steps. A gold coin had appeared in his hand.

The gold coin constantly leaped between his fingers, as though scouting for something.