HoG - Chapter 19

Chapter 19: Blood Wine

As Byron stepped out from the captain's quarters, he bore several silver plates that shone as if they had been polished by the sea itself, along with an additional tome cradled in his arms—"Bloody Mary's Culinary Recipes"!

In gratitude for his heroic deed in saving the pirate ship, Captain Salman had publicly vowed that Byron could claim any item from his vast collection as a reward.

Byron's gaze skipped over the 'Storm Signet Ring' that was as much a part of Salman as his own flesh.

He discreetly employed 'Echoes of History' to survey the captain's treasures, finding no other oddity that eluded immediate identification.

He concluded that this 'Gourmet' was, in fact, a pauper in disguise.

The Gold Coin sequence was an insatiable abyss.

The instant Salman, replete with food and drink, prompted him to make his selection,

Byron feigned an irresistible urge, snatching the ancient cookbook with a semblance of rudeness.

"I want this book!" he declared.

Salman mimicked contemplation before acquiescing with a display of "reluctance."

In truth, this had been his intention from the start; had Byron not chosen the cookbook, like the chefs before him, Salman would have been genuinely perplexed.

The two strategists were each more adept at deception than the other.

Yet, Salman could never have guessed that Byron was a prodigy whose 'Spirituality' had awakened before he had reached adulthood.

The arcane knowledge and hidden cards Byron possessed far surpassed Salman's wildest dreams.

However, Byron was uncertain whether his quantified 'Spirituality' of a mere "1" was sufficient to actively employ 'Echoes of History' to unravel the mysteries of this oddity.

He resolved to study it in solitude under the cloak of night.

"Mr. Byron, come quickly! You've been so busy, you haven't had dinner, have you?

I saved a portion for you," Young Hans called out, waving from afar and sprinting toward him.

"And the captain has granted us the rare privilege of indulging in fresh ale tonight."

Byron had intended to retreat straight to the kitchen, avoiding the pirates on the deck who were gathered in clusters, savoring fine wine and delicacies.

Unexpectedly, Young Hans, who had been keeping an eye on the captain's quarters, beckoned him from a distance and even dashed over.

"Mr. Byron, please have a seat."

"Mr. Byron, allow me to pour you a drink."

Soon, he was ushered by a group of eager young pirates to a makeshift table crafted from barrels and planks, where they served him wine and meat with fervor.

Byron surveyed his surroundings, noting that most of those seated were skilled sailors with specialized roles and not insignificant status aboard the ship.

At the forefront were the Hans father and son, who were particularly well-disposed toward him.

The two apprentice navigator, Thomas and Parry, who were yet to navigate independently, had been training under the former navigator.

They had been utterly captivated by Byron's divine navigation skills earlier that day and were no less enthusiastic than Young Hans.

As per their roles, they would also shadow Byron, the acting navigator, learning on the job until they could fend for themselves.

They already considered themselves Byron's direct subordinates and took pride in the association.

Among the others, aside from a few seasoned gunners, were young pirates who had joined the ship mere days ago, driven by their families' destitution.

They still harbored the naivety—or perhaps foolishness—of youth, convinced that the captain, a supernaturalist, would never stoop so low as to deliberately suppress newcomers.

Of note was a young man seated in the corner, missing two fingers and hastily bandaged.

Byron knew him as Jon, an ordinary sailor and kitchen assistant who had helped him prepare ingredients and serve dinner.

He was also the unfortunate soul who had two fingers bitten off by 'Blood Eye' Salman at noon that very day!

This assembly of various departments, numbering about a dozen, could barely crew a single-masted schooner.

The strongest members of the pirate land force were absent from this gathering.

Most of them, along with the core crew members, were under the command of the first mate, 'Bone Crusher' Myers, occupying another part of the deck.

The voices from that direction were a raucous blend of opinions, yet these crew members, the most principled aboard the 'Maneater,' continued to champion Byron's cause.

"Hmph, those people are truly ungrateful. Do they not realize who saved their lives?

The Creator will surely exact a toll from the ungrateful!"

"The second commandment states: fairness for all, the capable shall rise, the mediocre shall fall.

Apart from the vice-captaincy, no other position befits your accomplishments.

Mr. Byron, you must plead your case to the captain.

If a good person like you concedes so easily, you'll be taken advantage of on this ship."

"Indeed, pirates are the freest souls on these seas. Without clear rewards and punishments, why would other exceptional pirates join our ranks?"

Their voices faded into the night, leaving Byron to ponder the weight of their words.

Warmed by their goodwill, Byron—who had recently undergone a profound change and was naturally wary of outsiders—felt an uncommon warmth in his heart.

He offered a nonchalant smile and said,

"It's quite alright. I'm still young, and the captain must be honing my skills.

Youth shouldn't be overly ambitious, fixating on immediate gains.

We should look to the future, to the potential for growth within our collective.

As long as we contribute selflessly, the captain will recognize our efforts, and in time, we'll all be promoted and reap greater rewards.

The stronger our pirate group becomes, the better off we'll be.

In his past life, as a worker who had been fed a steady diet of empty promises, Byron had become adept at this kind of rhetoric, even reaching a level of self-persuasion.

Now, it flowed from him effortlessly, without a hint of awkwardness.

Gazing into the eyes of the pirates, he spoke with genuine sincerity:

"Truly, it's a blessing to suffer a loss. I have no interest in being a vice-captain at all."

Had such words come from an inept individual, they would have been met with derision and seen as cowardice.

On a pirate ship, humility and gentleness were the least valued traits.

But coming from Byron, who had already proven his worth, they seemed to cast a halo over his head.

The group became even more convinced that, compared to the others, Byron was far more suited to be the ship's first mate.

'If Mr. Byron were not a supernaturalist like the captain, a gentleman who is humble, fair, and gracious to his own people would be far more fitting... as captain than that cruel and madman!'

More than one person's heart suddenly harbored such a bold thought.

Clearly,

Even those unfamiliar with supernatural knowledge, as long as they had been on the ship for a while, could see that their captain's condition was growing increasingly erratic.

No one wished to be the next to vanish without explanation.

Especially Jon, the kitchen helper who had lost two fingers and acquired the nickname 'Eight Fingers,' a flicker of fear and hatred appeared in the depths of his eyes.

'Monster! Just bullies only people like me and Mr. Byron, honest people!'

Though only a small seed had been planted, a faction centered around Byron was slowly taking root.

"Ahem, since the captain has made his decision, let's put this matter to rest.

Let's not discuss it further; let's drink instead."

Old Hans, the most level-headed among the younger crew, tapped his beechwood pipe on the table and was the first to raise the beer glass before him.

Byron, equally sociable, lifted his glass, clinking it with the others, and downed the fresh beer in one swift gulp.

Beer, with its shorter shelf life compared to rum, was always the first item the quartermaster needed to deplete, whether on warships, merchant vessels, or pirate ships.

Yet, after taking a sip, Byron's nose twitched.

He turned his attention to First Mate 'Bone Crusher' Myers and his crew, noticing they were drinking rum.

The open oak barrel beside them exuded a familiar scent, a peculiar blend of blood and sweetness.

It was identical to the blood-colored Bacardi rum 'Blood Eye' had consumed before!

The only difference was that the alcohol content was not as high as the former.

It was akin to a cocktail, with the same additive mixed into the ordinary base liquor.

Moreover, 'Spiritual Vision' revealed that these pirates, primarily from the assault team and the most prolific killers, each emitted a bloody aura similar to that of the man-eating sharks.

"This is the blood wine 'Battle Blood' specially rewarded by the captain, which, after being concocted by him, a 'Gourmet,' can gradually grant us supernatural powers.

We used to be able to partake of it only once every half month.

Now, considering our heavy losses, the captain has decreed that we can enjoy a cup every day from now on.

But... only true warriors who charge into battle are worthy of this privilege!"

First Mate Myers declared, casting a provocative glance at Byron across the deck.

Supernatural!

Being a powerful supernaturalist oneself and having the ability to bestow supernatural powers on others was an irresistible allure.

Even though Captain 'Blood Eye' Salman was as frightening as an intermittent bomb, filling them with constant dread.

For this promise, they remained steadfast in their loyalty to the 'Gourmet.'

'Blood wine? Warrior's blood?

A typical 'Gourmet' from the Gold Coin sequence doesn't possess this ability.'

Byron paid no heed to Myers' provocation; dispatching him would be as simple as killing a dog.

He was lost in thought, quickly finishing his dinner and offering the mutton to Young Hans.

Clang, clang, clang...

Soon, the ship's bells began to chime.

It was not an alarm but a maritime clock crafted by 'Craftsmen' to mark the time.

Unbeknownst to them, it was already 7 p.m.

First Mate Myers reluctantly drained his glass and commanded everyone:

"It's already seven o'clock. Tidy up the deck, check the anchor ropes, and return to your cabins to sleep."

"Rule Three: Lights out at eight o'clock. No drinking afterward, and it is strictly forbidden to go on deck between two and four o'clock."

This had always been the ship's protocol, and the pirates had no objections.

Before the small group dispersed, Old Hans took a puff from his beechwood pipe and exhaled a smoke ring.

He offered a meaningful warning to the newcomers:

"Here's a piece of advice: remember the 'Ten Pirate Commandments,' and on this ship, never, ever break the rules!"