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 42
Chapter 42: The King's Rule and The Lord's Reign
"Respected Captain, may I inquire as to the type of slaves you seek? Our Golden Palm Trading Company boasts an extensive selection! Behold, we have robust colonial natives, indentured servants versed in noble etiquette and financial acumen, and exquisite dancers from the western regions of the continent..."
"Even rare non-human races are within our reach. Simply place an order and provide a 30% deposit, and we shall procure them for you."
Upon Byron's entry, a well-dressed attendant approached, enthusiastically showcasing the "merchandise" of his establishment. Following the attendant's gesture, Byron observed the spacious showroom where slaves in shackles were confined behind fences and within cast-iron cages.
Muscular male slaves clad in rags and lightly dressed female slaves of various hues filled the space... The variety and quantity were indeed impressive. Moreover, based on typical experience, the slaves displayed outside were merely the most affordable common stock.
The higher-quality specimens were likely sequestered in the back rooms under stricter supervision.
Disregarding the attendant's embellished sales pitch, Byron ventured a few steps forward but then faltered, as if grappling with some internal conflict. The impulse that had drawn him there had suddenly dissipated.
"Is something the matter, Captain Byron? Are you finding it difficult to make a selection?"
Noticing Byron's hesitation, Guss assumed he was too young and inexperienced with such dark dealings and promptly stepped forward to assist his employer.
Lacking a clear direction, Byron could only momentarily suppress his impatience and asked with a hint of bewilderment:
"Do you frequently purchase slaves? Are you adept at selecting them? Though, this place doesn't seem like somewhere you could afford."
"No, it's not about buying; it's about my... extensive experience in being sold."
Guss proudly recounted his exploits, patting his chest.
Due to his innate zero presence, whenever survival became a struggle, he would opt to sell himself to various slave traders rather than impose on his neighbors.
Though the traders' words were often harsh, they at least provided food and shelter, and Guss found a peculiar comfort in such places. He had even grown fond of the Golden Palm Trading Company, having visited it several times.
Given its Remit ownership, Guss felt no remorse about the opportunity to deceive them. He paid no heed to the attendant standing beside him.
The attendant, upon hearing Guss's "tale," didn't take it seriously and merely shrugged, dismissing it as braggadocio. After all, in his recollection, nothing of the sort had ever occurred.
It wasn't until Byron and Eight Fingers, guided by Guss, strolled with ease towards the VIP area housing the higher-quality slaves that the attendant suddenly slapped his forehead.
"Huh? I haven't even finished my introduction. Why did those two just wander off on their own?"
He had completely overlooked Guss. Only Byron, glancing at the log's entry on Guss, displayed a somewhat amused smile.
Under Guss's guidance, the duo toured the majority of the goods area.
Whenever they encountered slaves whose quality met his standards, Byron decisively purchased them, regardless of their skin color. Before long, there were more than a dozen individuals trailing behind him.
He wasn't short on funds! Adhering to the principle of not letting anything go to waste.
He had discreetly sold the heads of the former captain Salman, valued at 4,300 pounds, and the "Magic Mirror" Wester, worth 4,800 pounds.
Those black market merchants, who dealt in all manner of goods, naturally had internal channels to claim the rewards from various nations, but they only offered Byron half the price. Nonetheless, it was still a considerable sum.
It was particularly noteworthy that although "Magic Mirror" Wester was a privateer captain recognized by the York family and enjoyed judicial immunity in England, it did not imply that enemy nations would show leniency. Should he be captured by a hostile country, he would still face execution for piracy!
"As expected, there are no Lancaster soldiers among these indentured servants from the Old Continent. With the new king's coronation, they might endure a tough period in the coming years, but they shouldn't lose their lives. Most of them wouldn't end up here."
Byron believed that the non-core members of the Lancasters would likely be relegated to local garrison duties, stripped of any chance for glory on the Stairway of Glory.
But what would befall those who were close to Lancaster and shared a deep bond with him, he truly didn't dare to imagine.
His aunt, the former queen Margaret; his childhood friend, also the descendant of a retainer; his loyal oath knight...
"Captain, up ahead lies the special area where supernatural individuals are housed.
The cages here are constructed from a unique material known as 'Spellbreaker Stone.' Whether it's the 'Silver Law' or the 'Pirate Code,' even one's own 'Spirituality' is entirely suppressed. Witchcraft and any other supernatural abilities cannot be invoked, rendering the supernatural individuals within as mere mortals, albeit stronger than the average person."
Guss guided them into the innermost part of the goods area, pointing from a distance at ten black stone cages. Only four of the ten cages were occupied, and the three standing occupants were either too elderly or missing limbs, clearly flawed merchandise. The last one, lying on the ground, couldn't even muster the strength to sit up.
Before they could approach, they were abruptly interrupted by a sharp, insect-like voice shouting:
"I, Captain 'Woodpecker' Maltz, lay claim to all these slaves! But what's this half-dead, hideous creature doing here? Is he alive or not? I intend to use them as breeding grounds for my insects. If they perish before the larvae hatch, I won't pay a penny!"
Another group of customers had arrived before them.
The lead pirate unfastened the sword at his waist, using it like a prod to jab at the figure on the ground, attempting to elicit a response.
The attendant serving him rushed forward to intervene:
"Sir, please refrain from doing that. He's simply too injured and has lost consciousness. Moreover, we're selling raw materials here. As long as they're utilized before the soul dissipates, they're no different from being alive. Should you poke him to death, you'll be required to pay in full."
The commotion quickly drew the attention of Byron and his two companions, who were about to draw nearer but were halted by several stoic pirates.
The pirates issued a warning with their peculiar, sharp voices:
"We've already purchased these goods. Kindly leave."
Behind the human barrier, the lead pirate captain blatantly disregarded the attendant's caution and continued to prod the face of the prone figure with his scabbard. Blisters burst, and blood spattered. Even in his comatose state, the slave reflexively flinched from the pain.
"Hahaha, he's not dead yet. Otherwise, my amusement would be severely diminished."
The pirate captain was elated, as if inflicting pain and suffering on others brought him an unusual sense of joy.
Then, an unforeseen event unfolded.
Just as he was about to swing his sword again, the figure on the ground suddenly opened a pair of somewhat hollow eyes. The intact right hand seized the scabbard, employing expert swordsmanship to disarm the sword with bare hands, and seized the opportunity to strike the assailant's nose hard with the scabbard. Blood immediately flowed.
However, the onlookers could all see through those hollow eyes. The slave hadn't regained consciousness; he was acting purely on instinct, using his formidable willpower to forcefully overcome the limitations of his battered body.
The lifeless eyes lacked focus, and he mumbled a vow as if in a dream:
"The king's rule, an iron fist, defiance crushed, in darkness mist!"
"The lord's reign, a towering crest, offense before my death, finds no rest!"
"Honor's code, in ancient right, retribution's rule, in every fight!"
Crunch!
A sound suddenly emanated from behind the human wall. The pirates blocking the way were casually shoved aside, and a figure stepped forward to approach the attendant. With a touch of derision aimed at the 'Woodpecker,' he spoke indifferently, as if it were of no consequence:
"I, too, have an interest in these witchcraft materials. Sell them all to me."