Tell Me the Answer (2): The Gray Line Emperor's Fury
Imperial Year 191, March.
The great pirate of the Gray Line, Locke of the One-Armed Hand Pirate Crew, stabbed his dagger into the sprawling map.
- Crunch!
The spot marked with an X was the location of a Nameless Island.
"That mad dog Edward again?"
Locke bared his savage teeth, glaring at his subordinates.
No one in the room dared speak under the overwhelming presence of their enraged captain.
And rightly so.
How many pirates in the entire Gray Line region had ever dared to challenge the One-Armed Hand?
His crew commanded seven subordinate pirate groups, and his main fleet boasted an astonishing five warships.
Moreover, he nipped any budding threats in the bud before they could grow, leaving no pirate capable of standing against him.
Typically, rivals either destroyed themselves through overconfidence or submitted early and were absorbed into his forces.
But this upstart Edward...
"...Yes, Captain. He's relentlessly raiding our subordinate crews and supply lines."
At the subordinate's report, the dagger plunged even deeper into the map.
"Didn't we send a warning before?"
The reporting sailor's face drained of color at Locke's question.
"...Well."
"Don't beat around the bush—spit it out! Want me to feed you to the fish, huh?!"
"H-Hiiiik!"
Locke finally exploded. He thrust the gleaming hook at the end of his left arm against the sailor's chin.
"Th-The thing is... We did get a reply..."
"Yeah? What'd they say?"
"F-Fuck..."
"Fuck?"
"...They raised a flag that said 'fuck off.'"
"Ha!"
Locke clutched his forehead.
"Kuhahaha! Have I ever seen such a goddamn likable bastard!"
He burst into mad laughter before slamming the map table with a bang!
"Just one pirate ship. And they dare challenge me, Locke, with that pathetic force? Mad dog indeed!"
"Captain, it's not just one ship. Some of our captured forces have defected to them, and they're growing stronger by the day."
"Goddamn it. Of all times, some half-baked punk shows up in the Gray Line. Right, lads?"
Locke gestured lightly as he spoke.
One of his subordinates promptly placed a bottle of strong rum into his remaining right hand, beside the hook.
He downed the fiery rum in one go and turned his gaze elsewhere.
To the White Line, far removed from the Gray Line on the map.
Even the mighty One-Armed Hand Pirate Crew, the greatest power in the Gray Line, dared not set foot there. It was forbidden territory.
The reason? The White Line belonged to the infamous Baltor Navy.
Were the Baltor Navy like the seals in other seas?
Every pirate would shake their head firmly at that.
The Baltor Navy was the world's strongest, with systematic tactics, overwhelming might, and superior firepower.
They were leagues beyond ordinary naval rabble.
Thus, even as massive merchant ships laden with drool-worthy wealth sailed by, pirates could only lick their lips—no one could breach the White Line.
But put another way: the pirate who conquered the White Line would seize both fortune and fame.
That was why countless pirates called it the "Golden Sea" with feverish dreams.
And Locke's rapid expansion in the Gray Line was all for that very purpose.
He drained the rum bottle in a flash and declared,
"We need to dominate this shithole sea pronto. You all know why, right?"
The crew nodded, their eyes blazing with ambition.
The White Line—the sea every pirate coveted.
The "Golden Sea"!
Just sailing there promised immense fame and wealth. Who could resist such temptation?
But clashing head-on with that ironclad fleet of monsters was a last resort.
Locke had a different goal.
"We're almost at the top. Become the absolute hegemon of the Gray Line, and we'll claim a seat among the Imperial Seven Seats!"
- Waaaaaaaaah!
As Locke raised his empty rum bottle amid the heated fervor, the room erupted in cheers.
The Imperial Seven Seats.
They were the seven state-sanctioned pirates—privateers—appointed by the Baltor Empire to maintain security in the White Line. That was Locke's true aim.
Secure a seat, and you'd gain passage rights through the White Line, imperial protection, and legal authority to devour other pirates.
And not just that.
You could legally plunder merchant ships of the empire's enemies.
In short, it was the pinnacle of pirate power—the only way to tap into the vast goldmine of the White Line.
That's why Locke had meticulously planned all this time.
Dominate the Gray Line and earn the empire's summons. That was his perfect scheme.
So this greenhorn popping up at the final piece of the puzzle was enough to exhaust his patience. He'd spared the punk to avoid needless waste—and because that crude personality and strength intrigued him. He'd waited for voluntary submission.
But now? No more waiting.
- Crunch!
This time, he drove his left hook into the map instead of the dagger.
"No time to dawdle. Make him one last offer. Tell him to take the hand of the Gray Line's emperor, Locke."
"And if he refuses?"
One sailor asked.
Locke grinned, revealing his pointed teeth.
"Dogs need a stick. We'll smash that brat's head and offer it to the empire as tribute."
The situation was shifting rapidly.
***
"We haven't seen those bastards around lately."
Elise yawned, leaning on my shoulder.
She was right. The One-Armed Hand Pirate Crew's raids on Lusha Village had noticeably dropped off.
"Tch, that's a problem."
Searching for their ships ourselves meant scouring the vast Gray Line—the massive expanse crossing the Ormil Sea and Mort Sea. Near impossible.
"Well, ain't that good news?"
Jack said while oiling his sword.
"Knew it from the start, when that smug face never showed. They've finally learned to fear us."
Elise sighed and shot him a glare.
"Hey, you idiot. Be real—who's gonna be scared of us? Power gap's like a pup versus a tiger cub."
"...Ungrateful wench."
Jack had no comeback, so he shut up and focused on his sword.
Elise had a point.
No matter how many of their ships we'd smashed on sight, would the mighty One-Armed Hand Pirate Crew fear a rising newbie crew like ours?
Only an idiot would think that. Yeah, I'm talking to you, Jack.
Then someone wedged in between us.
Arhen, with her silver hair in a side ponytail.
"Yeah, it's definitely weird. The knight captain once said the One-Armed Hand Pirate Crew was infamous for brutality. No reaction at all now is super unnatural."
Elise furrowed her brow at the sudden intruder.
"Captain, what's with this girl?"
"Beats me."
That's what I wanted to know.
She'd been loitering at old man Robert's shop again, then came right over when we gathered.
Even decked out in comfy villager clothes from who-knows-where.
She crossed her arms casually and plopped down next to Elise.
"Just three years ago, their notoriety was huge. But now it's faded. That's obviously suspicious, right?"
"Uh, can you not stick to me?"
"Oh, sorry. Your cheek's so soft."
Elise growled, shoving Arhen away as she tried to press her own cheek against Elise's.
"Anyway, there must be a reason!!"
"Exactly! Why are you butting into our crew's business!!!"
Elise shrieked, and Arhen flinched, tears welling up—she wasn't used to yelling.
Though she wiped them away quick and played it cool.
"Hmph. W-Well..."
Arhen twirled a strand of her silver hair.
"...I want to protect Robert's uncle's shop too."
"Huh?"
"You guys do this to protect the village, right? Same here. The tasty food, these clothes—all from villagers. I wanna repay that kindness."
Elise flushed red.
"Wh-What're you saying, you! We ain't protecting Lusha Village specifically!"
True. We guarded our crew's turf, not the village per se.
Important distinction. Mess it up, and we'd be vigilantes, not pirates.
Arhen, out of retorts, twirled her hair again.
"...Honestly, I owe you guys too. N-Not that you should get the wrong idea. Pirates are all bad. I'm just repaying favors..."
She knew she was picking a fight.
Her voice trailed off smaller and smaller.
"A-Anyway, the One-Armed Hand Pirate Crew's intentions are key right now."
"Intentions? Edible?"
Don't use big words. Jack's brain might explode.
Arhen glanced blankly at Jack, then propped her chin thoughtfully.
"...Reason, reason. Hoarding forces, expanding territory aggressively..."
After mumbling to herself, she went "Aha!" and raised a finger.
"Figured something out?"
I asked, and she nodded vigorously.
"You guys heard of the Imperial Seven Seats?"
What? Food?
Turns out I was no better than Jack.
Only our proud supply officer and strategist, Elise, got it.
"You mean the Baltor Empire's privateers?"
Don't exclude me—explain.
"What's that exactly?"
"Captain, you don't know the Imperial Seven Seats? The only pirates allowed in the White Line! Emperor-approved crews!"
I knew the novel's main stage, the White Line, but not this.
Elise turned a cold gaze on Arhen at my confused look.
You brat I didn't raise you to be mean.
"But the Seven Seats haven't been vacant in decades."
"Right. But one just opened."
"How?"
"The Iron-Blooded Admiral from the south. He punished one of the rampaging seat-holders."
Bam!
I slammed the table and stood.
"Oh, that! The famous southern overlord, right? Over seven feet tall, pale face, arrogant eyes—the Iron-Blooded Admiral! Damn, he took down a pirate."
Of course I knew the novel's male lead.
But the two women reacted coldly.
Like they were looking at something weird. Fuck, why the stares?
"First time seeing Captain overreact like this. ...You don't have those tastes, do you?"
"Eh, tastes vary. Better keep it secret from Lord Faith folks, though."
No, Arhen, you can't say that.
I slumped bonelessly.
The women pitied me briefly, then resumed.
"Makes sense why the One-Armed Hand is spreading out. Dividing forces is risky."
"Yeah. They're gunning for a seat."
They clicked like besties. Gonna play rock-paper-scissors later?
Elise's face grew serious.
"...That means... their full strength..."
Her lips trembled.
"Captain, this could be dangerous!"
"What now?"
"Think! They're all-in on a seat, so they ignored small skirmishes."
"So?"
"Duh! You've built serious notoriety in the Gray Line lately, right?"
True. Hated the nickname, though.
"Plus smashing their ships every time."
Elise said.
"Push too far, and they'll come at us full force, no?"
That's what we wanted. I tilted my head; she raised a finger.
"Problem is, their power might be way bigger than we thought—"
- That's when.
Old man Robert, back from fetching supplies, burst into the shop panting.
"E-Edward! Big trouble! Real big trouble!"
"What, uncle? You knock someone up? Damn, spry for an old timer."
"Not that!"
Robert trembled all over as he continued.
"A massive ship approaching! Flying the One-Armed Hand Pirate Crew flag!"
Elise smacked her forehead with an 'I told you so!' just then.