Pirate Kingship-Chapter 41 - 40 Slave Trade Guild (Please Follow)

Just as Byron and his party walked into the Sailor and Cat Tavern to begin their selection.

A merchant ship named the "Rainbow Trout," flying both a pirate flag and the flag of the Golden Palm Trading Company, had just emerged from the mist and arrived at the dock.

THUD, THUD, THUD...

Michal, the crafty merchant from Remit who had previous dealings with the Man-Eating Shark, swaggered onto the vessel.

He held a pristine white handkerchief to his nose, inspected the ship from top to bottom with disdain, and then nodded to the captain of the "Rainbow Trout."

"Mr. James, start unloading!"

The fierce-looking sailors on board, cutlasses in hand, immediately stood ready.

When they lifted the lower hatch of the cargo hold, a nauseating stench wafted out, causing even those accustomed to such smells to wrinkle their brows involuntarily.

Bright sunlight streamed into the hold, revealing a shocking sight within.

People—the space was densely packed with people!

More precisely, they were slaves from the Bantaan Archipelago.

The "Rainbow Trout," it turned out, was a slave ship.

Though only slightly larger than an ordinary merchant vessel, its hold was crammed with over four hundred individuals.

They lay on their sides like sardines in a can, each one shackled on the lower deck, some even in the hellish, airtight, and damp bottom hold that reeked of decay.

"Everyone stay still! Anyone who dares to run will be killed on the spot!" a sailor shouted in a broken native tongue.

After the warning, a group of sailors, pinching their noses, descended into the hold to unlock the chains securing the slaves to the wooden planks.

Still bound by iron fetters on their hands and feet, the slaves were strung together with chains and herded ashore.

In the sunlight, their dark brown skin and extremely robust physiques were evident.

A male slave could sell for 26 pounds, a female for 20 pounds. The majority on this ship were males, meaning this cargo could fetch a total of around 10,000 pounds!

Moreover, besides the native slaves, there was also a group of white-skinned indentured slaves from the Old Continent aboard the ship.

Indentured slaves from the Old Continent primarily fell into four categories. One type consisted of bankrupt individuals unable to repay their debts, left with no choice but to sell themselves. Another type sought to exchange their labor for the opportunity to migrate to the colonies. The third type included unfortunate souls who had been abducted or tricked into signing contracts. The final category was criminals banished by various countries.

In any case, on the Old Continent, the slave trade had persisted from ancient times to the present, whether dealing with their own people or with foreigners.

"Wait, Captain James, why is there a sick person among these?" the crafty merchant Michal suddenly asked, pointing to one of the indentured slaves.

After the long sea voyage, although no one was in particularly good condition, at least the others could walk on their own.

That one slave, however, seemed to lack even the strength to stand, being carried on a stretcher by two other indentured slaves.

"As far as I know, any slave who falls ill on board is thrown into the sea immediately to prevent infecting others. Why wasn’t this one disposed of?"

The slave ship captain, a man whose graying hair did little to conceal his ferocious aura, dismissed Michal’s question with indifference. As a ’Treasure Guardian,’ a Second Order Professional Rank in the Gold Sequence, his status within the Golden Palm Trading Company was higher than Michal’s, and he was more senior.

"Ha-ha, this one is a real prize! How could I bear to throw him out? Take a closer look." novelbuddy-cσ๓

This was the second time recently that Michal had been mocked for his poor judgment.

Frowning, Michal ordered the line of indentured slaves to halt. He stepped forward, peering curiously at the figure on the stretcher.

HISS—!

He gasped in shock.

Horrific! Truly, utterly horrific!

The numerous whip marks, already scabbed over on the slave’s skin, were merely superficial injuries, seemingly inflicted by a "cat-o’-nine-tails"—a torture tool with lead pellets at its tips.

He had clearly endured even more severe torture: his fingernails and toenails had been brutally ripped out, and several triangular brand marks, seared by a hot iron, adorned his chest.

As a First Rank ’Golden Eye’ of the Gold Sequence, Michal could also discern that the man’s left arm, shoulder, and ribs had suffered comminuted fractures, and his internal organs were damaged. The marks indicated they were from the heavy Chains commonly used by the Hightins’ Blood Cross Order of Knights!

The wounds, poorly treated, had become infected and were festering.

More terrifyingly, his face and hair appeared to have been scorched by fire; they were covered in blisters and blood scabs, rendering him completely unrecognizable, without a single trace of his original features.

The crucial thing was that, despite such grievous injuries, he clung fiercely to life.

Even in his coma, he gritted his teeth tightly, as if terrified of muttering something in his sleep that should not be revealed.

No one could doubt that some unbreakable conviction supported him, an absolute will to live that was terrifyingly, almost frighteningly, strong.

"Heh, what do you think?" the slave ship captain said.

"This one was purchased from a back-alley doctor in a small harbor north of the Black Hinge Strait Islands when our ship docked there. Simply because he couldn’t pay his medical fees. Don’t mind his half-dead appearance now; when he’s lucid, he’s a powerful Transcendent specializing in combat. To subdue him, we even lost two of our good men on the ship."

Hearing the slave ship captain’s explanation, the man’s story automatically formed in Michal’s mind.

He must have been ambushed and captured, then subjected to cruel torture. He tried every means to escape alive, only to be severely injured and left for dead by the pursuing Blood Cross Order of Knights. He likely has a formidable bounty on his head. To avoid recognition after escaping, he cruelly disfigured himself. How ruthless! Being ruthless to others is nothing special; only those who are ruthless to themselves are truly merciless! And to top it all off, he’d been accidentally sold to slave traders by a greedy quack.

Of course, as an unscrupulous merchant himself, Michal wasn’t burdened by conscience; his primary concern was marketability.

"This man is so badly injured, he’s practically crippled," Michal said. "There’s no saving him unless he finds high-ranking ’Glorious Sacrifices’ or ’Sun Crown Priests’ from the Church willing to expend their own life force for his healing. Even seeking forbidden knowledge to cure injuries of this severity would require an enormous price. It would probably take the lives of several Transcendents of the same rank to save this one. Can he even be sold?"

But James just smiled, a deep, intriguing expression on his face.

"No problem. If he can’t be sold as a slave, can’t he be sold as... raw material? There isn’t a single unclaimed piece of land on the Old Continent, so the market for these slaves has never been great. At most, some lonely noblewomen might buy a couple for amusement. But in a lawless place like Iron Anchor Bay, who says slaves can only be used for labor? The pirates here, who defy all laws, certainly don’t fear the Church’s sanctions. And those who possess forbidden knowledge are countless. Many rituals and witchcraft require sacrifices, and the flesh and souls of Transcendents are in particularly high demand. The majority of slaves delivered this time are intended for pirates attending the Captain’s Council. It remains a seller’s market, with high demand and short supply. We aren’t just slave traders; we can also be suppliers of Extraordinary Materials. You’ve only recently come to Iron Anchor Bay from the Continent, Mr. Michal. You have much to learn. Hahaha..."

...

In the tavern, Byron’s expression was grim.

"Lamb, 24 years old, elite gunner, handsome features, but an exhibitionist. When he was on board previously, living with a group of rough pirates, he was laid up for about twenty days each month..."

"No good. Next."

"Orel, 28 years old, outstanding in all aspects, excels at singing. But for some unknown reason, any ship he boards frequently encounters heavy storms, resulting in disastrous voyages where nothing was gained. Ten voyages out, eight plagued by storms. His ill repute is widespread, and he’s landed him on the blacklist of Iron Anchor Bay’s captains."

"He’d do better to quit piracy and become a rainmaker. No good. Next."

"Next..."

With the help of ’Echoes of History,’ Byron didn’t need the pirates to introduce themselves; he could see right through them with a single glance.

However, after spending the better part of the day in this "pirate talent market," his gains were meager.

Those still queuing for an interview were an even sorrier lot.

He had no idea where Gus had found these old relics—four old men with three teeth among them. Were they here to be pirates or to retire?

Being a common sailor was backbreaking labor. If one couldn’t become a Transcendent, they were usually worn out by their thirties; just climbing the rigging was exhausting enough to take half their life. In the Navy, many officer candidates began their sea training at fourteen or fifteen. For pirates, thirty-five was about retirement age.

Byron knew that most competent sailors had already been snapped up by the more formidable pirate crews during this period, leaving mostly dregs. Furthermore, because a group had been inflating prices, the Settling-In Fee had also risen considerably.

After managing to scrape together about twenty barely usable individuals, Byron felt mentally drained.

He rubbed his temples forcefully and turned to ask, "Gus, isn’t there anyone else?"

The local fixer, Gus, who had been diligently serving him tea and water, shook his head with a wry smile. "Captain Byron, all the usable ones are pretty much here. The rest are even worse. This is really not a good time for your recruitment drive. However, have you considered buying some slaves as crewmen?"

"Slaves?"

"Yes. How about I take you to the Slave Trade Guild in Iron Anchor Bay? Many slave merchants display newly arrived slaves from foreign lands there. They may not have many skills, but their physiques are certainly impressive."

Hearing this suggestion, Byron was instantly intrigued.

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