Domain Normalization (2)
There might not be a soul alive who doesn’t know it, but I am a pirate.
For a pirate, home and hearth are the deck beneath his feet.
Eating, drinking, sleeping—everything happened on board.
Of course, no one spends every single day of the year at sea. When the hull needed repairs or we had to resupply, we’d beach the ship on some remote island or stretch of coast, scraping the bottom clean. We landed for fresh water, fruit, and provisions, and to fence whatever loot we’d taken. We also stopped at pirate-friendly ports so the crew could blow off steam in taverns and brothels. Even so, the very idea of “settling down” had always felt distant to men like us.
Now, however, things are different.
I command more than a thousand sailors and have been granted the title of baron along with the domain of Morg Bay. For the first time, I have a place where I can truly put down roots—something no ordinary pirate ever gets.
But there’s a problem.
The existing residents.
The people of Morg Bay are survivors who endured the tyrant Rubik, yet they are also the weak who now face the worst kind of outlaws. Already suffering chronic famine from Rubik’s blood-sucking taxes, they now watch a new pack of former pirates—uncontrolled and heavily armed—march into their streets. It would be strange if they weren’t terrified of being sold into slavery tomorrow.
And that fear becomes a real issue because of one simple fact: I am their lord.
Raiding is temporary. Taxes, on the other hand, are half-eternal. If Morg Bay is to grow beyond a pirate haven into the southern seas’ hub of maritime power, countless pieces of infrastructure must function. Shops, smithies, taverns, markets, brothels—the people must earn money and spend it before I can collect clean tax revenue. Their loyalty matters too. Without their goodwill, every future plan I have will stumble.
If they decide I’m worse than Rubik, they’ll side with the Southern Admiral the moment he decides to discard me—and happily stab me in the back.
So…
“First, I need to fill their bellies.”
I would use the oldest, most reliable method there is.
Morg Bay was livelier than usual.
—Hey, keep it straight. Straight, damn it.
—Come on, we’re all sailors here—
—Sailors? You pointed a blade at us!
The energy mostly came from the pirates. The newly minted Baron of Morg Bay—Haydam the infamous pirate—was overseeing some incomprehensible roadwork.
“…Mom, what are those people doing?”
A child watching from the sidelines looked genuinely curious.
“Shh. Quiet, son. Don’t look outside. You too, daughter—get inside.”
But Logiena, mother of two curious children and a nursing infant, felt only dread as she watched the scene. Rubik’s extortion had left them with no wages and nothing worth buying. Whenever her husband managed to bring home a few coins, the skyrocketing prices meant they could only stare. If the tax collectors showed up, the house would be torn apart in an instant. Her husband had gone to sea on a merchant ship long ago to earn money, yet he still hadn’t returned. In every way that mattered, Logiena was struggling.
Then it happened.
“Hey! Everyone, get out here!”
Pirates—sailors of the Pirate King—were striding through the streets, shouting for people to come out. Most residents had been hiding indoors out of fear these past few days, so the pirates were bellowing at the top of their lungs.
“Our captain says he’s handing out food. If you don’t want to starve to death, come get some. If not, stay home.”
Logiena’s head throbbed. Food distribution? From pirates? They were takers, not givers. Even Rubik, who wasn’t a pirate, had only ever schemed to steal from them. Hearing such words from the crew of the so-called Pirate King made it impossible to believe.
‘If I go… won’t they just kill us? Or take the children hostage to starve us into submission?’
Yet her thoughts didn’t matter to the children’s stomachs.
—Grrrowl…
“…”
The two children, who hadn’t seen even thin porridge in days, clung weakly to her skirt. Their eyes told her everything. Logiena made her decision. Even if it cost her life, she would protect them.
“Son, daughter. Watch your little brother for a moment. Mommy will be right back.”
The square was already packed with residents. Surrounding them were pirates whose blades had still smelled of blood only days ago. The square was deathly quiet. Men covered in savage tattoos stood with swords at their hips; the atmosphere felt less like a distribution and more like a public execution of traitors. Logiena forced her fear down and stepped forward. She wasn’t the only one thinking the same thing.
Then came the sound of wheels.
—Rattle, rattle…
The supply crew appeared, hauling large carts. Inside were not only grain taken from Rubik’s warehouses but also…
“W-wait. Are you really giving this away?”
“No cutting. Form a line.”
“Ah—yes, sir.”
Salt-cured meat, spices—luxuries the common folk never saw. How was this possible? The pirates must have taken it from some merchant ship they’d raided. Still, the fact that they were handing out such high-quality goods was hard to accept. Yet the pirates proved their words true, doling out set portions into every basket that reached them.
When Logiena’s turn finally came, the scarred pirate in charge spoke curtly.
“How many?”
“H-how many what…?”
“Family. How many in your family?”
“Ah—four! Four of us!”
“Hold out your basket.”
With shaking hands she offered it. The man tossed in a generous scoop of grain and a hunk of meat the size of a man’s head. Logiena’s eyes widened. She couldn’t believe she had obtained food so easily. While she stood frozen in shock, the pirate spoke again.
“Our captain’s giving this to you, so eat it gratefully.”
His rough voice carried a strange note of pride. Then another pirate called out.
“Hold on—is she a mother?”
“Y-yes? I mean, yes!”
“You idiot, you’re supposed to ask that first. The captain said we don’t let households with children go hungry.”
“Oh, right. Here—take this too.”
More food went into her basket. Logiena thought, perhaps—just perhaps—the Pirate King becoming their lord… might not be so bad after all.
She wasn’t the only one feeling that strange warmth.
‘…This feels pretty good, actually.’
‘We’re just handing out food, yet they’re groveling.’
These were men who had spent their lives being called vermin and taking whatever they wanted. Now they were giving to those weaker than themselves and receiving looks of awe and gratitude. It was a different, far more potent sense of superiority than any raid had ever given them.
“Keep the line straight. You want food or not?”
“Oi, look at that—cut the line and your share gets smaller.”
They were already organizing the queue themselves, handing out rations while lecturing the residents like they were the true masters of the domain. The more they gave, the more that feeling grew. When Haydam had first ordered the distribution, they had raged about wasting their hard-won loot. But his words had changed their minds.
—This domain is our home now. If the people who keep the island running while we’re at sea starve to death, who’s going to wash your clothes or sharpen your dulled blades when you return?
—If the residents collapse, we lose our base. Some other bastard could take the island while we’re gone.
They had reluctantly agreed, thinking of it as keeping useful servants alive. Now it felt different. Men who had lived selfishly at sea all their lives were discovering a fierce need for recognition—and the thrill that came with it. They were lords bestowing favor upon their subjects, and the subjects were receiving mercy from the pirates. Haydam watched the unbelievable scene from above, sipping from his cup.
“Kael, you see that? When we start repairing the walls and roads, they’ll be far more cooperative.”
“…It certainly seems that way, Captain. I never thought the crew could act like this.”
“Loyalty starts with the smallest things. Right now we give. That way… we can take more later.”
Haydam stepped away from the window and turned to Kael.
“Now then, let’s talk about something else. You said there was trouble with the prisoners?”
“Haa… don’t even ask. The merchant sailors and the pirates got mixed together, remember?”
“Right.”
“The merchants are complaining—why should noble folk like them be locked up with the likes of pirates? They started fighting.”
“…Interesting.”
“So I was hoping for your advice on how to handle it—”
“Perfect timing. I need someone good with money. Are there any merchants among those sailors?”
“Y-yes, there are.”
“Bring one here. Looks like I just found myself a very cheap administrator—one I don’t even have to pay.”
“…! Understood, Captain!”
Haydam’s eyes gleamed with anticipation for the new blood about to join his ranks.