Chapter 39: A Bold Hypothesis

Chapter 39: A Bold Hypothesis

Out on the great ocean, pirates shared three iconic interests: strong liquor, women, and gambling. Alger Wilson merely took out his silver pocket watch, clicked it open, and glanced at the time before he understood where he ought to begin asking around.

It was a quarter past eleven. Brothels and bars had yet to open. Only the casinos would certainly already have gathered a crowd of fellows dreaming of becoming rich with ease.

Alger was even more familiar with the port city of Bayam than with his own hometown. Almost without pausing to confirm directions, he wove smoothly through streets and alleys until he arrived outside a casino hidden within a secluded lane, with no signboard hanging at its entrance.

According to what he knew, the owner of this “Gold Coin Casino” was a gang leader with a deep background, someone who maintained an unclear yet faintly existent connection with an important person in the Governor-General’s Office. For many pirates, this was one of their first choices when they wished to dispose of stolen goods and purchase supplies.

Precisely because of this, pirates often appeared here. In the morning, they might exchange their loot for thick stacks of gold pounds; by evening, they might have already lost everything and been thrown out.

Alger tugged at his thick brown coat, pressed down the flat cap that had become popular on the continent, pushed open the half-closed door, and entered the casino under the watchful eyes of one bodyguard after another.

Within the Kingdom of Loen itself, casinos were not permitted. They could only exist in the form of individual rooms attached to bars. But across the kingdom’s vast overseas colonies, gambling was not merely legal; it was a pillar industry. Among them, Bayam of the Rorsted Archipelago and Aleser in East Balam were the most famous in this regard. Quite a few wealthy men from Backlund and the shores of the Midseashire Sea would travel there specifically to gamble heavily.

Sweeping his gaze around, Alger saw all kinds of card games, as well as roulette-style gambling derived from dice.

Since it was still early, there were not many gamblers. Alger very quickly “browsed” them all.

Suddenly, his eyes lit up. With sharp perception, he recognized who a certain disguised fellow had originally been.

He removed his hat, walked to a table playing Texas Hold’em, patted the target on the shoulder, bent down, brought his mouth close to the other man’s ear, and said in a suppressed voice, “Blazing.”

Danitz was using his right hand to lift a corner of his hole cards. Startled by the pat and the whispered call, he nearly jumped up and threw a mass of flames at the person behind him.

After being attacked by Steel Maviti, he had understood that he should not go out gathering information using his true appearance. That would draw the attention of one greedy pirate after another.

Although most pirates were not strong enough for Danitz to take seriously, he likewise had no wish to expose his movements and disrupt the plan to hunt Steel Maviti.

What he had not expected was that, only an hour after he left, his carefully applied disguise would be seen through.

Danitz’s spirit tensed to the extreme. He quickly turned his head, using the corner of his eye to glance at the person “greeting” him.

When he saw the distinctive deep-blue hair like seaweed, Danitz relaxed slightly and instead checked whether his fellow players had heard what had been said.

The gamblers were all seriously studying their cards, either tossing them away or covering them, completely unaware of what had happened on this side.

“Why are you here?” Danitz asked, pretending to be casual.

He and Alger had met at the previous pirate gathering. He knew the other man had a ghost ship and a dozen or so sailors, making him a fellow with decent strength but little fame.

According to Vice Admiral Iceberg’s judgment, for a pirate crew that was neither large nor especially strong to preserve an ancient ghost ship meant that there was likely a major force supporting them from behind. They might be people of the Church of Storms, or perhaps connected to a pirate king or some secret organization. Normally, they disguised themselves as ordinary pirates, gathering intelligence on targets for their true masters so precise elimination could be carried out. At certain times, they might also act in place of the force behind them, doing things that force found inconvenient to do themselves—silencing people, for example, or seizing some special item.

There were no few pirate crews like this, and no one would specifically trouble themselves over it.

Alger pulled over the nearby chair and sat down naturally. Tilting his head slightly, he asked in a low voice, “I hear your captain obtained Death’s Key?”

Danitz laughed disdainfully.

“I originally thought you still had a brain of your own, but you have disappointed me.

“How could something like that be obtained so easily?

“If you want it and can offer enough, we would definitely sell it!

“How about it? Do you want to consider the deal?”

Alger said casually, “Perhaps it has some other secret. Perhaps someone wants to target your captain.”

“Who knows? Shit!” Danitz was angered by his new hand and cursed loudly.

Immediately afterward, he lowered his voice again and said, “That thing does not look like it was made by humans. It may belong to giants, or perhaps devils.”

“Made?” Alger asked, somewhat amused. “Your captain is still insisting on teaching you literacy?”

Rumor said Vice Admiral Iceberg was a lady with a strict attitude toward knowledge. She could not tolerate her subordinates being a pack of illiterates. Therefore, aboard the Golden Dream, there were daily classes in general knowledge and reading, with mandatory rotation for the crew.

Danitz revealed an expression as if he wanted nothing more than to avoid recalling the matter.

“That is far harder than fighting people!

“It is exactly because of that that we never manage to recruit enough crew. Every time we dock somewhere for supplies, someone resigns…”

He did not continue on that subject. Looking toward the dealer, he said to himself, “Help me keep an eye on Steel’s whereabouts.”

Steel Maviti? Admiral of Blood’s second mate? Alger glanced down at Blazing Danitz’s left arm, which was slightly propped up by a splint, and understood somewhat.

“You were attacked by him?

“For that key?”

“His brains have already been eaten by his living corpses,” Danitz emphasized.

“You want revenge?” Alger inferred from the other man’s tone and request.

“Heh heh.” Danitz smiled without answering, appearing focused on his new hole cards.

Alger recalled the information he had and said, “Your captain last appeared seven days ago near Sonia Island. This was confirmed by a certain telegram. The Golden Dream cannot reach Bayam that quickly.

“You have a new helper? If relying only on yourself, then even if Steel were alone, you would not be his match. And you know very well that he is never alone. He is always surrounded.”

Danitz’s response to Alger’s question was to throw out a chip.

“Call.”

“Who is it?” Alger first assumed Danitz’s attitude was a tacit admission and asked with the mindset that asking would cost him nothing.

Danitz stared at the community cards and answered simply, “You do not know him.”

I do not know him? Someone with the strength to deal with Steel Maviti, whether pirate or adventurer, ought to have some fame on the ocean… Unless he belongs to some secret organization, or is setting out to sea for the first time. Of course, it is also possible that Danitz simply does not want to answer, fearing that he will expose a secret. That is most likely… Belongs to some organization, first time at sea, strong enough to deal with Steel Maviti… Alger’s eyelids lifted slightly as a bold hypothesis formed in his mind.

Lightly tapping the edge of the table, he asked as though chatting about the weather, “Did you have fun at Bansy Harbor?”

He placed emphasis on the word “fun.”

Danitz turned his head in astonishment and blurted, “How do you know?”

He believed that, given the Church of Storms’s style, they would never expose such a scandal themselves. And the White Agate’s passengers had only arrived the night before. Those who had truly witnessed the process had all signed confidentiality agreements. How could the news spread so quickly?

Alger smiled and did not answer.

At this moment, he deeply understood the value of one of Emperor Roselle’s sayings:

Make bold hypotheses, then verify them carefully.

Danitz gathered up the chips he had won in this round and muttered, “It was not such a major matter. Some ancient customs were reviving there, which led to the fall of a Storm bishop.”

As expected… Alger gave a low laugh and said, “I will help you keep an eye on Steel’s whereabouts.

“But how should I contact you?”

“Mm…” Danitz hesitated before answering, “Number 15 Fragrant Tree Avenue is an unoccupied house. Write the information on paper and throw it inside.”

Alger nodded. Standing, he patted Blazing Danitz on the shoulder.

“Do not forget the payment.”

He turned and walked toward the door.

Watching the captain of the ghost ship depart, Danitz could not help muttering, “That fellow is not bad.

“But I should leave too.”

He did not dare trust Alger completely, fearing that a few minutes later the other man might lead Steel Maviti and his people to attack.

After leaving the Gold Coin Casino, Alger, dressed in local loose-legged trousers, walked leisurely toward the main street, entered a department store, and found the corresponding counter. Smiling, he took out a handful of brass-colored pennies.

“Give me a deck of tarot cards.”

While waiting, a question calmly appeared in his mind.

At this time, what is Mr. Fool’s Blessed doing?

…

Inside Old John’s Restaurant.

Klein watched the waiter place a platter of grilled fish before him. Straw-like things were wound around it, and it was covered with various spices, some he recognized and some he did not.

The rich fragrance drilled into Klein’s nose, greatly increasing the production of saliva in his mouth.

As expected of the Spice Islands… Klein was just about to pick up his knife and fork when he saw the waiter set two branch-like objects beside the plate.

Chopsticks? Klein was startled.

Then he quickly locked onto the suspect:

Roselle Gustav!

“When eating grilled comb-spined fish, one should use this kind of utensil. It is said Emperor Roselle drew inspiration from elven customs,” the waiter introduced.

Elven customs? As expected of a race that loves cooking and fine food… Or rather, Roselle was simply finding an excuse… Klein guessed, understanding a certain person’s personality quite well.

That morning, he had gone to several Church hospitals in Bayam, hoping to provide final care for certain dying patients, help them fulfill their wishes, and deepen his acting in passing. In the end, however, he had never found a suitable target.

It was not that no one died in the hospitals, but that all of them had family members—either accompanying them at their bedsides or already witnessing their deaths. If Klein tried to impersonate them afterward, there would be no possibility of disguise. It would only have the effect of scaring people.

Later I should go around the bars where adventurers gather. There are many outsiders there who come to sea in pursuit of wealth. They might die at any time in some dark corner like stray dogs no one cares about, while their families never receive the news… Klein gathered his thoughts and focused on the food before him.