Chapter 94
Chapter 94
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 94
Chapter Title: Preparations for War with Maxburg (3)
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No matter where you look—forward, backward, or sideways—the vast, endless ocean, a murky blend of ash-gray and blue, is pure hell.
If the wind picks up even a little, the ship we're on rocks violently from side to side, and anyone not tied down with ropes gets swept away to become fish food.
But without wind on the open sea, we can't make any headway and starve to death out there.
And all around us lurk vicious pirates eyeing us hungrily, while months at sea let scurvy and all sorts of diseases harvest the sailors' souls.
But the real terror wasn't any of that. No, it was...
Standing watch atop the mast, lost in idle thoughts, when the guy next to me—bored out of his mind—finally opened his mouth.
"Those were hellish days, huh. Crazy bastards—well, anyone not an officer who tried to desert after one ride never got off that ship again."
"Don't even get me started. Back in my day, ten newbies came aboard, and after a year, only one was left alive. One croaked from scurvy, blood pouring from his mouth. Two got beaten to death by the bosun. Three were hanged from the mast for trying to jump ship. Three more... drowned in a storm without tying themselves down? So many died, I can't even remember."
I gave the back of his head a light smack and said,
"You think you were the only one? Everyone here came from the same shit. Merchant ships or warships, all the same."
"Ha, yeah. Every damn day for a year, picking mold off moldy bread and mixing half-rotten water with beer. Salted meat? Maybe twice a year. Oh, and we never got paid."
"Paid? Bullshit. 'Payday' was whatever wine and scraps of meat the captain felt like tossing us after whoring it up in port."
"Fucking bastards deserved to die."
Just thinking about it is nightmare fuel.
They'd stick you out on the boundless ocean where death could come any second, sleeping in hammocks strung up in the moldy, reeking cabins—or just on the deck.
He and I both knew but never said it: if the officers were real psychos, they'd drag skinny, pretty young male sailors to the stern, rape them, then kill them.
A moment later, he started blabbing on.
"But ever since joining this crew, my luck's turned. As long as rations hold, we've got plenty of bread and beer, even salted meat twice a week. And the captain and officers don't beat you—as long as you don't pull stupid shit."
"Yeah, and we get paid. This job's lucrative too. Even grunts like us get a cut."
"One gold coin a month out here in deep water, four silver on coastal patrols."
"Double the usual pay. Good call turning pirate."
"Yeah, stick it out four more years, buy some land and a house, get married... Hey."
As he said that, the guy next to me slapped my shoulder.
"Come over here. See that? That's a Maxburg ship, right?"
I hurried to his side and peered out at the sea. There it was—a ship, palm-sized from this distance, but unmistakable.
Spotting a merchantman or warship during patrol nets two gold coins in bounty. Jackpot today.
"Ring the bell! You lazy fuck!"
"Merchant or warship, we're rich. Let's go!!"
We rang the bell like mad and shouted.
"Enemy merchant or warship sighted at nine o'clock! All hands to battle stations!!"
"Time to loot! Grab 'em and live like kings!! No better gig for easy money!"
At that, every sailor on deck—and those sleeping below—poured out, ready for combat.
Sail handlers unfurled the canvas at full speed for maximum velocity. Ballista crews cranked massive bolts into place with all their might.
The captain, who'd been in his cabin, now stood at the stern, eyeing the targets.
Moments later, sails fully set, our ship surged toward them at top speed.
"Ahoy!! Let's strip those fat-pursed pigs clean!!"
"Ahoy quieter, damn it! Boss said pretend we're from the County of Kroitel when we hit this one."
"Then quit chugging beer on duty, old man."
"Screw it, just Ahoy! Ahoy! The Dark Flag Pirates are coming for every treasure on your merchantman!"
After chasing for a good while, the merchant ship—once palm-sized—came into sharp focus.
Exaggerating a bit, it was mansion-sized with a garden, flying Maxburg colors.
And as a merchantman with a light crew, they were sloooow even unfurling sails to flee.
This'll be over in a flash... Heh heh... Loot the ship, offload the goods... Head to Stormhold nearby, cash in, and spend some fun time with a pretty girl.
As we closed to about 600 meters, the captain spotted us and ordered,
"You lot, get down to battle positions!"
We scrambled down from the mast and took our spots. By then, the captain had moved to the bow, drawing his slender rapier, and said,
"If any idiot skipped the breastplate from His Excellency Kroitel, grab it now. We close in, offer surrender per tradition, then board. Before we hit, let's sing a pirate tune."
"Wahaha, Captain loves that song! Aye!"
"All together now—one, two, three, sing!"
Then we belted it out as one.
"Free souls unshackled from the captain's tyranny and chains, we sail the restless seas with friends. Cleaving the dark waters, we'll free those suffering the same plight! Onward! For beer and gold! Onward! For new comrades! And safely back to share beer and meat with the oppressed!!"
"Ahoy!! Battle stations!"
Everyone rushed to positions. Time passed, and soon we were close enough to make out faces.
They tried fleeing at full speed, but a laden merchantman against us? No chance.
Closing further, the captain bellowed with a laugh,
"Wahaha, fools enslaved by your captain. Surrender now, join us as brothers! Refuse, and your tyrant officers won't die easy!"
In response, a fat man in fancy blue silk embroidered with gold crawled out and yelled,
"Filthy pirate monkeys, all talk! We're honored merchants of the House of Maxburg Duke. Scum like you—turn back now, and we'll let you live!"
"That so? Try it! Battle ready! Fire ballistae, then grab crossbows!"
With that, both ships unleashed ballistae at each other.
Our superior numbers and gear let us embed more bolts in their hull. Then, everyone except ballista crews fired crossbows into their sailors.
"Agh!"
"My arm! My leg!! Nooo!!!"
"I can't see!!! My eyes burn!!!!"
We hit the deck after firing, but no screams from their side meant we won the first strike.
I popped up, reloaded my crossbow fast, and braced for boarding.
A rapier, shield big enough to cover me, crossbow, breastplate... Yeah, I'll live through this.
Soon after, the boarding planks hooked their right side.
The boarding master drew his sword, roared, and leaped aboard. We followed.
Over there, far fewer scrawny sailors with thin swords and shields faced us.
The fat captain just hid in back, flailing his sword and barking orders.
"Kill those dogs! For House Maxburg, for His Grace the Duke!!"
Seeing him reminded me of our old tyrant captain, drowning in authority.
So I flipped him the bird and shouted,
"Ahoy! So fat your brain's clogged with grease? For sailors like us, no Maxburg Duke or Deus matters—getting rid of idiots like you is best! Stand put. We take this ship, we'll hang you from the mast and let you die slow!!"
The boarding master heard me, grinned, and said,
"Oppressed by your captain? Drop your swords. Slaves to that tyrant? Raise 'em. We'll spill your blood with our blades and set you free. Charge!!!"
Some dropped weapons and slipped behind us. The rest charged with sword and shield.
I bashed the scrawny guy's face with my shield, dropping him, then throat-stabbed the next.
As I crouched to draw my sword and stood, a lanky beanpole near me shot an arrow at me.
Too late to dodge, couldn't block with arm or leg.
Damn, this how I go? Lived good as a pirate, so maybe fine...
But instead of arrow piercing flesh, it felt like a fist to the chest.
Looking down, luckily it hit my breastplate—the tip was blunted.
I fired my pre-loaded crossbow into his solar plexus, then shield-bashed the jaw of the next guy swinging at me from behind, killing him.
My mates slaughtered their untrained, unarmored foes like threshing wheat.
After a brief slaughter, we captured the captain and those who'd surrendered early.
Interrogating the crew confirmed he was a vile tyrant, but...
Our captain stopped us from killing him outright—no extra bounty. The grunts joined our ranks as newbies.
The prize haul: fancy Holy Roman Empire hams, premium Rhinefeld wine, loads of lavender and herbs.
For my big role in the capture, five gold coins—plus four more promised for handing over the captain.
Normally, even big feats got one gold. Under the Count? Nine gold per fight... Rich folks are different.
Over the month, we nabbed and looted three Holy Roman merchantmen. Heading home with fifteen gold coins.
Now back for a month of coastal patrol and rest. Whew... gotta spend big while off.