Pirate Kingship

A couple of days ago, he had just inferred that the Church was very likely the sinister force behind the scenes.

He worried that if his whereabouts were exposed, the Tribunal might come knocking, and here he had run headlong into this group of lunatics. Apart from instinctive hostility, how could he not be nervous?

The Religious Tribunal, also known as the Inquisition or Heretical Tribunal. It was the most powerful enforcer under the auspices of the ecclesiastical court, responsible for investigating, judging, and sentencing those the Church deemed heretics. During the Dark Millennium, it also imprisoned and burned at the stake countless Dissenters of the Church. Among them was the first Astronomer who proposed that the world was spherical and revolved around the sun.

In the Tribunal, Sun Crown Priests, Reformist Clerics, and Judgment Knights had committed countless horrifying atrocities, each one capable of silencing a child's cry.

Just imagine the concept of an organization that has spent an entire Dark Millennium, from beginning to end, solely dedicated to killing. No dynasty lasts a millennium, yet the Tribunal endures.

Not only did they hold a vast array of powerful Cursed Objects, but even the very name of the Tribunal contained a formidable Extraordinary Power.

All the other merchant ships around them steered clear as if they were venomous snakes. But Byron immediately realized this was not aimed at him; it was the aftermath of the York Family using the Touch of the Kraken. However, the hint of joy in his eyes was fleeting, and he soon could not muster any happiness. He saw people on the shore loading a large number of items emblazoned with the Red Rose and storm dragon crest onto the Tribunal's ship.

"Robbers, damn robbers! Those are all our family's possessions!"

Byron, the master, could only watch helplessly as these people made trip after trip between his family castle and the port, determined not to stop until they had taken everything. For a Pirate whose profession was robbing others, could there be anything more painful?

The killer is always killed, the robber always robbed, and the strong prevail. This was the age-old tradition of "shed blood, not sweat" among the nations of the Old Continent. When Byron became strong enough, he could naturally rob it back, so there was nothing to complain about.

When he saw that most of the items taken were various documents and data, he quickly realized the reason for the Tribunal's presence.

I know that our family supports the schismatic faction within the Church. My father is the one in charge, but I'm unclear on the details. These people coming here to 'ransack the house' is obviously not just to hold the Yorks accountable but is more likely an extension of the Church's internal faction struggle. They want to find an opening from us, the supporters of the Protestant Doctrine.

The Decryption Rate for Hidden: The Shadow of the Red and White Rose War also advanced from 50% to 55%.

Although it was good to have confirmed the direction of the decryption, Byron suddenly hesitated again.

It looks like there's no need to wait for news from the Kalmar Union anymore. Heresy is more hateful than pagans! The struggle between the new and old forces within the Church is probably fiercer than their conflict with the Bayfolk. This is a war of faith. It seems I can already foresee a religious conflict sweeping across the Old Continent, its embers already glowing, destined to become a wildfire. Another thirty years of fierce war, and it's conceivable that half the population of the Holy Silver Empire will be wiped out. Let's hurry and flee, leaving this turbulent land of the Old Continent behind.

Visions of a terrible past life popped into Byron's head, giving him an involuntary shudder. He could no longer bear to ponder the items taken by the Tribunal.

He was about to order the ship to set sail when he inadvertently discovered that more than the Inquisition had docked here. There was also a York Family Level Five Cruiser, overseeing two large merchant ships. The merchant ships flew a noble crest that was all too familiar, featuring an osprey as the centerpiece.

That is... the emblem of the Grenville family!

When he saw the beautiful figure step out of a carriage bearing the same crest, parked in the port area, Byron's breath hitched slightly.

"Dock the ship!"

Finally leaving her place of confinement, yet also signifying that she would leave her home behind for good, Catherine felt similarly depressed, her face devoid of a smile. Yet, when this Flower of the North stepped down from the carriage with the aid of a stool, her ethereal beauty still caused the noisy and chaotic port to suddenly brighten. Even the Judgment Knights, who looked more like stone carvings than men, glanced over instinctively.

Today, Catherine wore a complex, goose-yellow noble gown. Even with a hooded cashmere cape draped over her, it did not conceal her slender waist. As she turned her head, the hood slipped off, revealing her pale golden hair, lake-green eyes, a swan's elegant white neck, and a face as beautiful as a burst of blooming flowers. As radiant as the sun, too dazzling to look at directly.

Accustomed to such gazes, Catherine took one last look at her homeland.

Who knows how many years it will be before I can return? Perhaps I might never come back. I've hidden the letter in our childhood 'secret base.' I wonder if Byron, that little rascal, will come back here to take a look. If he knows I'm going to the Bantaan Archipelago, will he come to find me someday...

Gazing at her homeland, Catherine, though not sentimental, fell into memories both sweet and regretful. But in that moment, a figure approached her and coldly reminded, "Countess Catherine, it's time for us to leave; punctuality is a basic virtue expected of a noble."

For this territorial conferment, Catherine needed to first meet with the next convoy of escort ships in the Royal Capital of Kingston before setting out together for the Bantaan Archipelago. The Sorenburg Principality and the Grenville Earldom were both north of the Strait Islands, so they needed to depart early to avoid being late. However, the condescending tone in which the person spoke was exceedingly unpleasant.

Catherine turned her head to look at the young man standing by her side. He was dressed in an outfit similar to a Navy uniform, the attire of a courtly aristocrat: white breeches, white silk stockings, and feet clad in black buckle shoes. Yes, white silk stockings. The men of this era were quite fond of wearing stockings—either silk or cotton—and even high-heeled shoes, merely to accentuate their healthy and well-rounded calves. However, since stockings were expensive, only noble men could afford them. He wore a white linen shirt on his upper body, a sleeveless vest, a white cravat, and a blue wool jacket. On his head, besides a white wig, he also wore a black tricorn hat with gold trimming.

An undisguised look of disgust flashed through Catherine's eyes. "Lord Clyst, please be mindful of your station."

Royal Hound Vincent Clyst, descendant of a fallen Great Noble family and also a Second Order Punitive Knight of the Tribunal order. He had climbed to his position by clinging to the coattails of the York family. Undoubtedly, he was an unlikable fellow.

Clyst's expression did not change, his smile insincere. "Countess, given your youth and the lack of any elder in the house to assist you, you have no experience in managing a domain, let alone a colony that has not been fully developed. His Majesty has specially appointed me as your steward and Guardian Knight. I am to guide your every word and deed daily, lest the venerable and prestigious Grenville family be shamed."

Clearly, anyone normal could understand the hinted meaning behind his words. A wealthy single countess with no family to support her, and having lost the support of Prince Sorenburg, was immediately targeted by wolves and hyenas. Her person, her wealth, her title… all it took was one "legal" marriage, and they could openly seize everything that belonged to her! This transfer of the Countess's domain was just the beginning. Countless overt and covert attacks awaited, with numerous individuals eager to take a piece of her.

Upon hearing this, the already defiant Catherine couldn't help but scoff coldly. They had only been in each other's company for a brief half-day.

She soon discovered that this Royal Hound was just like those nannies who taught manners in the Royal Palace, with an innate desire to control others. He wanted her to act within the confines of his rules, and if there was even the slightest sign of defiance, he would forcibly correct it. Old-fashioned, conservative, stubborn, yet completely lacking in self-awareness! Looking at his demeanor, he evidently already considered himself the future master of the Grenville family.

Then, one of Catherine's maids came down from the second carriage, holding a box full of toys and various little trinkets: wooden swords, toy windmills, crude dolls… these seemed somewhat incongruous with the Countess's refined and glamorous image. Yet they were her most treasured possessions.

"Give it to me, I'll take it myself," she said.

Unexpectedly, that Royal Hound stepped forward to intercept, reaching to snatch the items from the maid's hands, prattling incessantly, "Countess, you do not understand the hardships of an ocean voyage. There is limited space on the ship, and we can only take the most valuable things. Let me dispose of these useless trinkets for you." He made a motion to take the box from the maid to throw it into the sea.

He was no fool; of course, he noticed Catherine's attachment to those items. But much like the original intention behind the invention of dining etiquette, it was essentially a test of obedience. Follow my rules, and you are one of us. This Royal Hound was clearly testing Catherine's limits step by step; without the box, other items would have served the same purpose. His true goal was to make her utterly submissive to him!

There was no hero to rescue the damsel in distress at this moment; the Golden Deer hadn't even docked yet.

If she had previously been just barely tolerating his rudeness, now that he tried to throw away all her treasured childhood memories, she could no longer endure it.

"Stop!" she cried.

She raised her right hand, a bright silver bracelet on her pristine wrist chiming clearly. It instantly liquefied, spreading over her body; the left half remained unchanged, while the right half was enveloped in shining silver Knight Armor that traced her explosively perfect figure. Both stunning and fierce!

The armor shimmered with a halo of light, and a stream of metallic liquid gathered in her right hand, forming a silver-white rapier as lethal as a viper.

With a sharp cry, her sword flashed!

SLASH—!

By the time Clyst regained his senses, that rapier was already poised at his throat, a droplet of blood sliding down the blade without leaving a trace.

His voice strained as he uttered, "A Mithril Knight of the Gold Sequence!"

It continued the Gold Sequence tradition: one could rapidly grow stronger with enough money. Its Second Order Professional Rank core ability, called 'Mithril Hand,' allowed her to transform the extremely rare Extraordinary Metal, Mithril, into various armaments. Its malleability was as great as gold's and could also be polished to the clarity of glass. Artisans could craft it into powerful equipment that was stronger than steel yet as light as a feather. It was as beautiful as sparkling silver, yet its luster would not fade over time. Mithril possessed all the advantages of metal; its only flaw was its expense! It was a by-product of silver ore, never found alone. Rich veins yielded roughly one pound of Mithril for every thousand pounds of silver. Its value was at least ten times that of gold, yet it was often unobtainable, effectively priceless despite any listed value.

In other words, the wealthier the practitioner of this class, the more formidable they were in combat. For Catherine, even if her swordsmanship was mediocre, her wealth alone could overcome a multitude of skills!

What need did such a formidable woman have for some opportunistic Guardian Knight? Wealth was her truest companion!