Pirate Kingship
Chapter 49 - 48: Mad Hunt!

Chapter 49: Chapter 48: Mad Hunt!

Time quickly advanced to the beginning of November.

Iron Anchor Bay, though not part of the northern regions of the Eternal Night Peninsula plunged into polar night for dozens of days a year, still experiences noticeably shorter days and longer nights come November.

The sun would rise at ten in the morning, and by three in the afternoon, darkness would have already descended, offering only five or six hours of daylight at most.

Yet, as the Captain’s Council election for the North Sea Pirate Warlord drew nearer, Iron Anchor Bay, contrary to expectations, grew increasingly lively.

And for some unknown reason, the number of pirate ships participating in the Captain’s Council election this year had surged by at least one-fifth compared to previous years.

Not only were the harbor’s berths filled with countless fluttering pirate flags, but even the rudimentary moorings, lacking so much as a simple pier, were crammed with all sorts of pirate vessels.

Such a massive influx of people naturally brought with it a massive influx of wealth.

Since most pirates were well-off and never saved their money, they were prime customers, causing Iron Anchor Bay’s various industries to thrive like never before.

"Welcome to Nightfall Casino!"

"Gentlemen, our Tulip Love has the hottest girls and the most fragrant Rum. Satisfaction guaranteed! Please come in!"

"Our Pink Theater has beauties from all races. East Coast ballet dancers, West Coast belly dancers, Bantaan Archipelago indigenous war dancers... we have everything you can imagine."

"I daren’t boast about other things, but the girls at our Succubus Hut... definitely wear the least clothing!!!"

"OH—!"

The afternoon had barely passed when the sunset appeared on the horizon, and groups of pirates eagerly flocked into Oriole Street. Most of them wouldn’t emerge until they had spent every last penny.

However, the booming business was inevitably accompanied by a drastic decline in public safety within Iron Anchor Bay.

At the head of Oriole Street, an aging Sheriff, a cracked walnut pipe clenched in his teeth, took a deep drag of burning, low-quality tobacco.

Just on this Oriole Street under my jurisdiction, twenty-one disappearances have been reported in the past three days, including even some Transcendents. Pirates have countless sworn enemies due to disputes over hunting grounds, routes, and resources. Vendettas are all too common. And with such a large gathering of pirates, the conditions for creating ’Legends’ have never been better. Even a slight disturbance can quickly spread across the North Sea Region. I hear that recently, names like ’Gunpowder Artist,’ ’Jack the Ripper,’ ’Faceless Man,’ ’Mad Hunt’... and a dozen others have suddenly popped up. We have repeatedly downgraded the warning level. As long as the killings are not carried out in broad daylight and the bodies are not left out in the streets, we will not pursue the matter. But there are far too many pirates this year. By the time the election starts in the middle of the month, who knows how bad public safety will become.

Even this official was deeply concerned about the deteriorating public safety.

Of course, his concern wasn’t for those inherently brutal, bloodthirsty pirates who lived by the blade, but for the North Bay Folks living here. Unlike others of their kind on the continent, they have never converted to the Church. They still adhere to their original faiths, considering themselves children of Woden, the God of Prophecy, Sovereignty, and the Mad Hunt, preserving the most primitive way of life of the North Bay Folks. It’s been said that ordinary civilians in other districts have already been affected by the disputes, but it’s still not possible to conclusively identify the culprit. ’Jack the Ripper’ and ’Faceless Man’ are the most likely suspects, yet they are also the most elusive. The enforcement teams are intensifying their pursuit.

Even though the Captain’s Council, the Navigators, and the Sheriff’s office made preparations in advance, they couldn’t cope with so many more pirates than expected. And the internal atmosphere of the Captain’s Council seems off. Alas, Your Excellency ’Whale Hunter,’ where could you possibly have gone? If we had your Iron Laws of Sovereignty as the Pirate King of the North Sea and the Guardsmen to maintain order in Iron Anchor Bay, how could such a situation have spiraled out of control? The young lady might be a prodigy in the Transcendent realm, having reached the Middle Sequence at a young age. However, our current Bayfolk Military Governor is ill and nearing retirement. She alone is simply not enough to quell the restlessness of those Great Pirates.

The Pirate King of the North Sea, ’Whale Hunter’; the Navigators guarding the harbor gates; and the Sheriff were all Bayfolk native to this island. They were deeply bound to this last North Sea pirate harbor, thriving or suffering together.

This veteran Sheriff, before his retirement, had been a crew member on the Pirate King’s flagship and was also a Transcendent of the ’Pirate’ class.

If even Old Hans the Shipwright could see the looming crisis, how could he possibly not?

"Uncle Weber, sighing again? What happened to the flair of a former Pirate King’s crewman?"

"Here, I brought you a bottle of good liquor. The weather’s getting colder, fancy a taste?"

A young man of utterly unremarkable appearance plopped down on the bench beside the Sheriff and handed him a bottle of Bacardi Rum.

The latter took the bottle quite naturally and took a big gulp. As he exhaled a potent alcoholic breath, he didn’t forget to shoot the young man a look.

A miser and skinflint like you offering favors? Certainly not out of conscience. Let me think... a couple of days ago, you suddenly asked me for help finding the docking information for all Hightins privateer ships. What brings you here this time?

Gus, hearing this, showed no embarrassment. Instead, he eagerly rubbed his hands together and said, fawning, "You’re spot-on, Uncle Weber; you’ve watched me grow up, after all. Nothing much. It’s just that the ’Whalebone Talisman - Silence’ you gave me last time has worn off, you see..."

The Sheriff casually tossed him a whalebone talisman and shooed him away impatiently, "Alright, my quota is limited. Use it sparingly when you’re up to your petty thievery. Now scram, scram..."

Watching Gus’s retreating figure, he still couldn’t shake his worry and called out a reminder, "If you get into trouble, run fast! Don’t expect me to clean up your mess, you hear?"

As an elder, his admonition was also typically Bayfolk. Others would tell their juniors to stay out of trouble, but he, a Sheriff, was plainly telling Gus that it wasn’t trouble unless he got caught.

"Got it, Uncle!"

Gus waved dismissively and vanished without a trace after just three steps.

Sheriff Weber hadn’t even realized that he had, for a moment, almost completely forgotten Gus. Yet he could distinctly feel that this boy he’d watched grow up seemed... different somehow.

After nightfall, in another corner of the town, a street of bars bustled.

A man with a cutlass at his waist and an eyepatch over one eye—the very image of a stereotypical pirate—staggered into an alley, belching. Two of his men followed, looking around vigilantly.

"Why the hell does the Captain insist that we must return to the ship to rest at night? I was just getting into the swing of drinking! You guys are such killjoys!"

The two men pleaded with the drunk with pained expressions.

"First Mate, sir, you know as well as we do that this ’Mad Hunt’ has suddenly appeared, launching frenzied attacks recently. The victims include ordinary pirates and even Transcendents. The Captains just pooled all their intelligence. It’s confirmed these attacks are aimed at our Privateering Alliance; all the victims are our people. Even though you’re a formidable First Rank ’Pirate,’ it never hurts to be careful."

The Mad Hunt was an old legend from the Eternal Night Peninsula. It told of a group of ghostly hunters, or those possessing Extraordinary Power, who pursued their prey at will. No one who encountered them ever survived. They would vanish from the world without a trace. The appearance of the Mad Hunt often heralded Calamities like war or plague. Its true nature was unknown. Speculation about the Mad Hunt varied: some believed them to be Undead or Beasts, while others claimed they were primordial gods. And the Wild Hunt King was often considered another name for Woden—the God of Prophecy, Sovereignty, and the Mad Hunt, worshipped by the Bayfolk.

In this recent string of killings, no one had seen the perpetrators. All victims vanished without a trace, and not a single body had been found. Even high-level divination failed to find any trace of the culprits; it simply didn’t seem like the work of humans. That was why the name ’Mad Hunt’ began to spread among the crews of the privateer ships.

Hearing his men’s counsel, the pirate first mate fell silent and focused on quickening his pace.

Who isn’t afraid of dying?

But as he walked on, his expression suddenly changed.

Because the sound of footsteps behind him had quietly... gained an extra set!