511 Warning
“Thank you, Earth Mother. They only ransacked the cabins one by one, and as long as we didn’t resist, they left us unharmed. Naturally, the beautiful ladies and gentlemen were excluded. You can’t expect pirates to have high moral standards.”
Lumian took a sip of mint-flavored absinthe, a smile playing on his lips.
“Aren’t they worried that there might be someone like the adventurer Gehrman Sparrow among the passengers? What if they encounter a powerhouse unwilling to part with their money and ready to use force?”
Francesco was caught off guard by Lumian’s question.
After a pause, he replied, “Being a pirate involves higher risks, doesn’t it?”
“That does make sense,” Lumian nodded in agreement.
Francesco went on, “Many merchant ships nowadays hire retired navy personnel, maritime adventurers, and professional mercenaries for protection. They’re tough and can handle onboard disturbances. Plus, they make pirates think twice, leaving room for negotiation.
“There was a similar incident on a merchant ship before. Pirates had the upper hand, took control, but hesitated to take on a sailor team led by adventurers. They opted for negotiations, demanded a protection fee, and withdrew without looting the cabins.”
Lumian chuckled.
“If I were a pirate, I’d start a security company in Port Gati, offering knowledgeable maritime mercenaries. If ships hire them, I’d earn some fees. If not, well, then it’s time for a good old-fashioned plunder. Either way, I’d make a profit.”
Francesco eyed the black-haired, green-eyed man in his twenties with surprise and muttered,
“Don’t tell me you’re an undercover pirate? The maritime factions are in chaos. Can your subordinates protect those who hire you from other pirates? Sigh, that’s why I’ve never liked the sea. Stepping on the ground gives me a greater sense of security.
“Praise the Earth, praise the Mother of All Things!”
A pure Feynapotterian who believes in Earth Mother… Lumian smiled and asked, “If you don’t like the sea, why are you still working as a bartender on the ship?”
Francesco’s expression gradually became animated.
“Don’t you find it romantic to have an independent kingdom, one that can hardly contact the outside world, floating out at sea? When you meet a beautiful lady here, you’ll feel that only the two of you are left in the entire world. You can only rely on each other.”
Your ultimate goal is to find a romantic encounter? Sometimes, Lumian found it hard to comprehend the Feynapotterians and some Trieriens who resembled them.
At that moment, Francesco gestured towards a round table.
“That’s Philip, the security supervisor of the Flying Bird. He claims to be a retired officer of the Fog Sea fleet. He destroyed numerous pirate ships with his cannons and personally captured many pirates with wanted posters.”
A group of men and women gathered around a round table to the side. In their midst was a middle-aged man with short light-gold hair, light-blue eyes, and a weathered face. Despite his appearance, he didn’t exude seriousness or formality.
“I’ll tell you this, if we ever encounter a formidable pirate, don’t fret. I know them, and I have a certain level of friendship with them. At the very least, I can negotiate…
“Haha, don’t ask why naval officers have ties to great pirates. There are many things at sea you don’t understand, and it’s best not to delve into them…”
The men and women surrounding Philip listened attentively, occasionally expressing surprise at the mention of influential figures or when he narrated thrilling adventure stories.
At some point, Philip’s left hand had wrapped around a girl’s waist, and she didn’t make any attempt to escape. Instead, she wore a shy expression.
Lumian averted his gaze and asked bartender Francesco, “Does he really know so many great pirates? Is he genuinely a retired officer of the Fog Sea fleet?”
Having finished wiping a cup, Francesco spread his hands and said, “Who knows? However, since he took over as the Flying Bird’s security supervisor, we haven’t faced any pirate attacks during our five trips out to sea in the past few months. I don’t know if it’s luck or if he truly knows many pirates and can spot spies at a glance, giving them an advanced warning.”
In the Five Seas, where pirates are a constant threat, the likelihood of avoiding encounters on five consecutive long-distance voyages is slim… Lumian turned his body again, scrutinizing Philip, whose skin bore the rough, red, and weathered marks of a seasoned mariner.
It was challenging to discern if this person was a Beyonder, let alone determine his Sequence. However, Lumian could deduce from the physical details that he had spent considerable time at sea.
Lumian focused and briefly observed Philip’s luck.
It carried a hint of blood.
There’s a possibility of combat and injuries in the future, but it won’t endanger his life… Lumian frowned, finishing the absinthe in his hand and requesting another glass of Lanti Proof.
Before long, Philip left the bar with the girl still wrapped around his waist, his face flushed.
Lumian clicked his tongue and shook his head.
“You Intisians.”
After a while, rhythmic music filled the bar. Many customers stood up and rushed to the empty space in the middle to dance.
Lumian held the liquor, swaying gently to the rhythm, appearing lost in thought.
Since discovering that the evil god’s bestowed beings were up to no good, he hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long time.
The Hostel plan was now in the past. The investigation of April Fool’s key members could only commence upon reaching Port Santa.
This was a rare vacation.
Estimating that it was time for Ludwig’s second late-night snack, Lumian set down his glass and left the bar on the deck.
As Lumian made his way back to the first-class cabin, he suddenly whispered, “Temiboros, is there any way to identify Beyonders on the ship and the passengers disguised as pirates? I want to visit them one by one, warn them to behave, and not interfere with my enjoyment of the journey.”
If anyone refused to heed the warning, 007 could assist in collecting the bounty. The Beyonder characteristics they produced could also be exchanged for money!
Termiboros’s majestic voice echoed in Lumian’s ears.
Without waiting for Lumian’s response, the sealed Angel added, “With Alista Tudor’s lingering aura and the slight corruption of 0-01, there’s a high chance that you’ll trigger a calamity if you really warn those people.”
Does that mean I’m the greatest calamity and just need to take care of myself? Lumian, who had hoped to reorganize the Flying Bird’s dark world and ensure a pleasant journey, understood Termiboros’s meaning. He had no choice but to give up.
At that moment, the Flying Bird had fallen into a deep slumber. Lumian walked across the solid floor, the faint creaks and muffled cries echoing around him.
Somewhere within the ship, a woman wept in heartbreaking sobs.
Lumian was no stranger to such despair. He’d often heard Miss Ethans, the object of Charlie’s admiration at Auberge du Coq Doré, cry in similar anguish.
There are people who suffer everywhere. Sad people… Lumian, influenced by his writer sister, possessed a touch of the artistic spirit.
Shaking his head, he returned to Room 5, his first-class cabin.
Lugano had already retired to the servants’ quarters, while Ludwig, clad in pajamas and a nightcap, awaited his late-night snack.
Lumian sighed and retrieved the easily preserved food from his Traveler’s Bag, grateful he’d restocked at Port Gati.
He calculated the cost of Ludwig’s daily meals—100 verl d’or, translating to almost 40,000 verl d’or annually. A wave of vexation washed over him. At this rate, Ludwig would deplete his savings within two years.
He couldn’t help but wonder if Baron Brignais had breathed a sigh of relief upon confirming Ludwig’s “disappearance.”
After settling the two midnight meals, Lumian quickly washed and settled into the master bedroom.
As the gentle sway of the ship lulled him, his mind drifted off to sleep.
Lumian woke up at 6 a.m., feeling refreshed.
The dining table was bare, Ludwig and Lugano still asleep.
He pushed open the window and stretched, inhaling the crisp morning air.
Just before seven, the doorbell rang.
My breakfast was scheduled to arrive at 8:30 a.m…. Lumian opened the door and found Philip, the Flying Bird’s security supervisor with his blond hair, blue eyes, and weathered face, standing before him.
Philip looked grim, a stark contrast to the jovial man he’d been at the bar the previous night.
“I’ve confirmed that your identification documents are fake.”
How did he confirm it? Why did he specially check our identification? Lumian didn’t feel that anything about them stood out after they boarded the ship.
Suppressing his confusion, he frowned and asked, “Are you attempting to extort us?”
Philip glanced at the living room and said solemnly, “I don’t care who you were or what you plan to do. Just behave yourselves during your stay on the Flying Bird. Enjoy the journey, don’t cause any trouble, and we’ll all be fine.”
He’s really confirming if we are problematic… How did this guy do it? He’s quite capable. He’s not as frivolous and simple as he seems… Lumian replied calmly, not giving in, “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Perhaps there’s a misunderstanding?”
Philip locked eyes with him for a long moment.
“As long as you understand what I’m saying,” he finally replied before turning and walking away.