Horizon of Glory
"The Annals of Exploration and Empires," Book III, Chapter XVII, Page 211 In the annals of history, few epochs have been as rife with the promise of adventure and the peril of the unknown as the Age of Discovery. It was a time when the very fabric of the world was being stretched, its edges frayed by the bold hands of explorers and conquerors. Among these intrepid souls, one name, has been etched into the annals of legends. The Wars of the Roses, a conflagration that had consumed the heart of empires and forged kings from the crucible of blood and fire, had at last given way to an uneasy peace. It was in this aftermath, amidst the smoldering ruins of a world reshaped by conflict, that Byron's journey began. Armed with a relic of untold power, the "Navigation Logbook," he set forth into the uncharted waters of the world, where the mundane and the magical intertwined in an intricate dance. The high seas, a vast and uncharted canvas, stretched before him, a horizon that whispered of untold riches and the promise of peril. Great ships, their sails billowing like the wings of colossal birds, traversed these waters, their cannons thundering a challenge to the very gods of the deep. It was an age of ambition, a testament to the unyielding spirit of mankind's quest for dominion over the unknown. Beneath the waves, ancient beings from epochs long past slumbered, their legends carried on the creaking timbers of ships and the roar of cannons. Byron, undaunted by the shadows that lurked beneath the waves or the tempests that raged above, carved out a kingdom from the chaos that enveloped the world. His fleet, a specter of doom, became a symbol of his indomitable will, a force that would not be challenged lightly. This is a saga, a tale woven from the threads of history and magic, adventure and power, and the eternal quest for glory. It is a narrative that compels the heart and captures the imagination, a story that resonates through the ages, a reminder of the heights to which humanity can aspire when driven by the winds of ambition and the tides of destiny. Let this account, penned by the hands of the most esteemed historians and literature masters, serve as a beacon for those who seek to embark upon their own voyages of discovery. For within the pages of this epic tale lies the essence of the human spirit, a spirit that seeks, that conquers, and that endures.
HoG - Chapter 24
Chapter 24: A Small Test of Skill
Much like the North Bay People, whose ancestors had ravaged the entire continent, the Remites too had carved their name into the annals of the Old Continent.
The North Bay People's racial Maxim rang out fiercely: "Revenge is a must!"
In stark contrast, the Remites' racial Maxim was a calculated whisper: "Every penny counts!"
Most Remites were renowned for their silver tongues, insatiable greed, and hearts as cold as ice. Lacking a nation to call their own, they wandered the breadth of the continent, their influence spanning from the eastern to the western shores.
Despite their nomadic lifestyle, they wielded considerable power, having established the "Gold Sequence" and controlling a vast, unified commercial empire.
For the common folk, earning and spending within the confines of one's country was the expected norm.
These stateless wanderers, however, frequently transferred the immense wealth they accumulated in one nation, relentlessly draining resources.
Predictably, no royal family looked kindly upon these parasitic entities, akin to tumors on their economic bodies.
Compared to the Remites, even the openly pillaging North Bay People seemed almost amiable.
Yet, the formidable Remites were supported by an even more powerful entity.
In their tales, their ancestors were none other than the sole deity worshipped across the Old Continent—the 'Creator'!
Although the church had neither confirmed nor denied the Remites' claims about the Creator, a select few elite individuals were aware that every year, the central cathedral received substantial religious donations from the major Remite commercial groups.
The Gold Sequence's Maxim—"Money speaks, truth is silent"—was taken to its extreme by them.
In essence, despite widespread disdain, the Remites could not only not be eradicated but often had to be engaged with, much to many people's dismay.
Some monarchs even found themselves indebted to them for financing wars.
'Blood Eye' Salman had clearly felt their sting in the past.
He turned to the first mate, Myers, and murmured, "It's up to you. Ensure we have enough funds to repair the Maneater."
With that, he retreated to the captain's quarters without a backward glance.
He wished to avoid dealing with the Remites and was even more concerned that he might not resist the urge to bash their heads in, thereby attracting the Iron Anchor Bay law enforcement.
"Aye, Captain!"
As the Maneater's longest-serving pirate after Salman, First Mate 'Bone Crusher' Myers' responsibilities included logistics and the disposal of plundered goods.
He was no stranger to Remite merchants and was well-acquainted with their challenging nature.
There was no alternative; since the disappearance of the North Sea Pirate King, the 'Whale Hunter', Iron Anchor Bay had adopted a system of joint captaincy.
After the most influential pirate captains had divided the spoils, every scrap of profit generated within these walls already had a claimant.
It was even swifter than earning through plunder!
Given that they had moored at this specific berth, if they didn't sell to the Gold Palm Trading Company, it was unlikely that any other black market merchants would approach them to purchase their loot.
Delaying the sale and renting a warehouse on the port to store their goods would result in a rental bill that would make anyone question their life choices.
At this juncture, Myers could only reluctantly accept Salman's order, his expression a mix of bitterness and resignation.
'Though the Maneater often instills fear through violence, in the eyes of true pirate captains, it's nothing extraordinary.
Neither does it have a stable enough haul to catch the attention of the large trading companies and warrant a dedicated receptionist.
This time, we have no choice but to negotiate with these vultures.'
He could only silently pray that the proceeds from selling the loot would indeed cover the costs of repairing the ship.
Otherwise, the next missing crew member might just be himself.
"Heave ho, heave ho..."
At his command, the sailors soon chanted in unison as they operated a makeshift crane, fashioned from a yardarm, to hoist various goods out of the hold.
The Remite merchant, who introduced himself as Mishaal, stepped onto the deck of the Maneater with his assistant, a smile playing on his lips as he examined each item.
The prices of bulk goods such as textiles and ironware were well-established, and even if he attempted to undervalue them, there was a limit to how low he could go.
The most contentious items were the artworks, jewelry, and various miscellaneous luxury items favored by the nobility, which had the most intricate composition and the highest added value.
Among the pirates, only a few could read, so one couldn't expect their artistic appreciation to be profound.
Wouldn't they just accept whatever price the black market merchants offered?
At most, after being deceived too many times, they would use their hard-earned experience of being scammed to select the least deceitful among the deceitful black market merchants in the future.
Even though he had steeled himself for being cheated, the Remite merchant before him still managed to disappoint First Mate Myers.
With each item he inspected, Mishaal would inevitably belittle it to the point of seeming worthless.
Others might negotiate a price cut by half, but he, true to the Remite racial Maxim, would slash the price down to the ankles.
Clang—!
At this moment, the cunning merchant Mishaal casually drew a magnificent curved sword, shook his head, and said,
"Apart from the gilding and bluing, it's just a common pirate saber; I'll give you 8 pounds."
By now, First Mate Myers' face was already turning a shade of green, and it took considerable self-control to resist the urge to draw his sword.
Even with his limited knowledge, he knew that this gem-encrusted nobleman's collection sword was worth far more than 8 pounds.
But prices are dictated by supply and demand.
Luxury items tailored to different buyers have vastly differing values.
He had no idea of the sword's true worth or what made it valuable, and he lacked the skill to haggle effectively.
Smiling Mishaal held the sword in one hand and, with the other, skillfully took a gem necklace from an exquisite silver jewelry box.
The silver chain was unremarkable, but the large gemstone hanging from the pendant, with its slightly purplish blue hue, exuded a unique, velvety texture.
His eyes lit up and then quickly dimmed as he shook his head and said,
"Iolite necklace, abundant near volcanoes, not worth anything, 3 pounds at most."
Not only First Mate Myers, but the faces of the other pirates were equally grim.
Every piece of loot here was stained with their blood.
It was because of this raid that they were targeted by the navy, losing more than half of their companions' lives.
The dead were gone, but the living still hoped to live in wealth.
Though the excuses varied, the feeling of being "eaten by bugs and mice, bare and hairless, a tattered and worn-out coat" made them directly break down.
"Wait!"
Just as Mishaal was about to pick up another piece of jewelry, Byron, who had been watching coldly from the sidelines, suddenly interjected, halting him.
Amidst the pirates' bewildered stares, Byron strode over to the merchant with an air of nonchalance.
His eyes lowered slightly, examining the saber in Mishaal's hand, and he calmly corrected,
"85 centimeters in length, weighing 1.2 kilograms, forged from white steel, with bluing, a golden hilt adorned with rubies, and one of the 17 main variations of the Fisher Chop Sword.
Craftsman: Thomas Brinka, the master swordsmith of England.
Though this is merely an item for flaunting wealth, both the craftsmanship and the material have reached a pinnacle among mundane objects.
Compared to a supernatural artifact with 'Judgement Inscriptions' crafted by a 'Craftsman,' it only lacks unique supernatural abilities.
Given its quality and the reputation of the swordsmith, it should be valued at 100 pounds.
A weapon of this caliber would even be repurposed by a 'Craftsman' as practice material for enchanting novices, and it would certainly not lack a market."
He then turned his attention to the necklace in Mishaal's hand and continued his corrections:
"The stone on this necklace is not a lowly iolite, but a top-quality sapphire!
Its weight, clarity, and cut are all of the highest grade, weighing 62 carats, and the cut is the work of Candice Boston, the master jeweler of England.
Most precious of all, it is a genuine 'cornflower blue,' which, alongside 'royal blue,' is considered the highest grade of sapphire color!
Taken to the art capital of the Holy Silver Empire, Florence, the only empire where the national flower is the cornflower, it would undoubtedly fetch an astronomical price.
Valuing it at 800 pounds is a very reasonable estimate."
Byron met the merchant Mishaal's silent, gaping stare with a confident and unwavering gaze.
In his eyes, both this batch of goods and the pirate ship already belonged to the Lancasters.
His uncle, the 'Mad King,' and his father had instilled in him since childhood that on their territory, the most unforgivable sin was... tax evasion!
As a noble gentleman, one must be frugal and manage the household with care, cherishing every coin as if it were one's own eyes.
That's right, although the money is yours now, it will all be ours sooner or later.
Wasting my money is absolutely not allowed!