Rome Must Perish
Chapter 138 - 103 Illyrian Pirates_2

Chapter 138: Chapter 103 Illyrian Pirates_2

But he did not immediately agree. Instead, he asked, "Two thousand men is no small number. If you join my forces, they will need to be reorganized and restructured. Can you accept that?"

Faced with Maximus’s piercing gaze, Pequot hesitated.

Maximus noticed his hesitation and continued, "Pequot, you are a capable person, but you’re not yet familiar with my army. So once you join, you’ll first serve as a Great Captain. Once you’ve settled in and made your mark, I’ll give you command of more soldiers. Even Fesaros rose to become a Legion Commander—you won’t be any less than him."

Pequot was somewhat shocked. "Fesaros became a Legion Commander?! Commanding six thousand men?!"

"Exactly! You must have heard about the recent conflict we had with Cleonis. It was Fesaros leading his legion that repelled their forces."

The astonishment on Pequot’s face quickly faded, and he replied resolutely, "Since my brothers and I have already decided to join your forces, accepting reorganization and restructuring is only to be expected."

Maximus smiled and extended his right hand. "Welcome to the team!"

Pequot also extended his right hand and gripped his firmly.

Pequot walked out of the camp but couldn’t help pausing to look back at the tent glowing faintly with candlelight, his emotions complex. He had known Maximus for several years. Although Maximus had half Illyrian blood flowing in his veins, Pequot never felt close to him and even looked down on him.

During their escape from Capua, he noticed Maximus wanted to recruit him as an ally, but he dismissed the idea with scorn.

However, since then, this young man, whom he had once despised, seemed to transform completely, achieving miracles time and again and rising rapidly to become one of the key leaders of the rebel army. Now, his forces had grown into the wealthiest and most organized unit within the movement!

Pequot had always prided himself on having sharp instincts. As a pirate, he was adept at distinguishing between captives: who was wealthy enough to extort, who had significant status and should be handled carefully, who was lying and needed a lesson... Yet, with Maximus, he admitted he had misjudged. Seeing this young man again now filled him with a sense of pressure.

Pequot was a pragmatic man. With Maximus’s current strength far surpassing his own and seeming to hold great potential, joining his forces and becoming his subordinate—just like Fesaros, whom he had once looked out for—would not only dramatically improve his circumstances but could also brighten his future!

Thinking this, Pequot strode briskly toward his own camp.

..........................................

"Boss, there’s no sign of Roman warships around the port!" shouted a sailor atop the mast, scanning the horizon ahead.

"Keep your eyes wide open and watch closely! Diocles, lower the sails and have the men start rowing. We’ll follow Karsipengpas’s ship into port," Onomabatis commanded, his expression still tense as he kept his gaze fixed on the swift ship ahead. If anything seemed off, he’d immediately order the vessel to turn around and flee.

The port’s water gate had already opened, and Karsipengpas’s ship sailed through. Onomabatis stared at the towering watchtowers along the piers for a moment before signaling his own ship to follow.

Inside the port, only a few vessels were moored, and the people onshore appeared scarce, giving off a desolate impression.

Karsipengpas’s ship had docked at the pier, and Onomabatis directed his vessel to a nearby berth.

When the ship reached the shore, several laborers came forward, catching the ropes thrown by the sailors and tying them to the wooden posts of the dock.

"Do you have cargo to unload?" one laborer asked.

"No."

Hearing this, the laborers didn’t appear disheartened. Instead, their expressions relaxed as they casually walked away.

Onomabatis observed this, puzzled, and turned to his crew. "Disembark."

"Boss, should we bring weapons?"

"Hmm... yes, bring them."

A dozen thinly clad sailors donned coarse linen garments, grabbing swords and long spears from the ship before jumping ashore one after another. Onomabatis strapped on a tattered leather armor, a short sword hanging from his waist, and led the group.

They resembled a gang of marauding robbers.

The laborers neither shouted in alarm nor showed fear, merely watching from afar.

Onomabatis led his men to another dock. Karsipengpas stood on the jetty, supervising the laborers unloading cargo from the ship. At the sight of their armed appearance, he immediately rebuked, "Onomabatis, what do you think you’re doing?! Put those weapons back on your ship!"

"Brother, I thought—" Onomabatis attempted to explain but was cut off by Karsipengpas’s impatient retort. "I’ve told you multiple times already: This place welcomes us Illyrian Pirates. There’s no danger here. Why won’t you trust me?"

"Brother, I trust you! Of course, I trust you!" Onomabatis replied while unstrapping his short sword and handing it to a nearby crew member. "Put your weapons back on the ship. Hurry up!"

The reluctant sailors started marching back toward the vessel.

At that moment, a man in a white robe standing by the ship’s edge spoke up: "Karsipengpas, this time you’ve only brought 14 baskets of iron ore, which is six baskets less than last time."

Karsipengpas hastily explained, "Of course I’d like to carry more iron ore to earn extra money, but you’re aware that Roman warships have increased patrols outside this port recently. To ensure we can escape quickly if we encounter them, I’ve carried less cargo to lighten the ship’s load."

The man, understanding the port’s current situation, nodded in agreement. "As usual, follow me to the warehouse. Once I’ve inspected the quality and weighed this batch of iron ore, I’ll settle accounts with you."

"Alright." Karsipengpas grinned and turned to his crew. "Go reserve rooms at the port’s inn and order some good food. When I return, we’ll have a proper celebration."

One sailor interjected, "Boss, we’d like to browse the market first."

"Go ahead, but don’t stir up trouble."

"Who’d dare? We don’t want to end up like that fool Nikaradas and get locked up." A sailor’s remark triggered a wave of laughter.

Karsipengpas remembered something and told Onomabatis, "Have your men go with them. You come to the warehouse with me, and afterward, I’ll take you to meet the overseer here."

Since they had already arrived, Onomabatis set aside his suspicions and replied straightforwardly, "Alright, brother, I’ll do as you say."

Karsipengpas issued some instructions to his crew and grabbed a handful of silver coins from his pouch to distribute among them.

The sailors cheered as they left the dock, accompanied by Onomabatis’s men, and headed toward the port district.

Karsipengpas led Onomabatis, along with the laborers unloading cargo, toward the port’s central warehouse.

On the way, Onomabatis couldn’t contain his curiosity and asked, "Brother, didn’t you say that after they captured this city, they barred all but a few authorized ships from entering or leaving the town? So how is there still an open market here?"

"They haven’t reopened the market just for us. The main reason is to serve the town’s residents—the original Sarabians who lived here."

"What?" Onomabatis was taken aback.

"Strange, isn’t it? When I first came, I found it odd too. The Free Italians haven’t looted all the Sarabians’ possessions and turned them into slaves for sale. Instead, they confined them within the city and made them purchase goods at the market with their own money. If they don’t have money, they simply have to work obediently for the Free Italians—"