Chapter 8: Haideling

“Heh, a lazy guy from Sparta? I don’t think I’ve ever heard such a joke. Men of Sparta are never cowards or lazies; they face whatever comes their way bravely, right? Is Captain Portalan content to merely be the captain of a small passenger ship for the rest of his life?” Comer used sharp words to strike at the other man’s vulnerabilities, sensing the deep wounds hidden within him. Though well concealed, nothing could escape Comer’s extraordinary intuition.
The muscles on Captain Bearded Man’s cheeks twitched slightly, clearly offended. His expression turned strained as if he couldn’t find the right words to deflect, and though turning his head away seemed impolite, his gaze grew increasingly somber, filled with resentment and pain.
“Captain Portalan, I don’t want to know about your past hardships. But one thing is clear: a true man who seeks to regain his dignity and honor cannot do so by self-isolating or drowning his sorrows in alcohol. A real man must reclaim everything with his own hands and retaliate against those who once dismissed or humiliated him. Only then can he be called a true man. Though you appear calm on the surface, I believe your heart burns with an unyielding flame just like mine. I believe I can give you the life you desire and help you achieve your goals!”
Comer didn’t give him a chance to explain or deflect. His torrent of words struck like a storm, hitting the other man’s wounded pride. Captain Bearded Man’s face turned ashen in an instant, and even his sturdy frame wobbled. Unable to bear Comer’s words any longer, he closed his eyes in pain and turned away. But Comer remained calm. He believed his words could awaken a man of spirit. If the other man remained indifferent as before, then he was no longer worth inviting.
There were many trout restaurants in Odessa, but only a few were famous. The Karino Trout Restaurant was undoubtedly one of the best. Comer didn’t repeat his invitation. He simply got off the ship and told Captain Bearded Man he would be dining at Karino Trout Restaurant, allowing Lebri, Sorenberg, and Lome to leave peacefully.

As a magician who wandered from place to place, Lebrí would naturally not refuse such a chance to enjoy fine food. As for Sorenberg, a dark knight who saw dining as part of his mission, he simply followed Komer’s arrangements. As for Lome, wherever she went, she encountered endless novelty; as long as she could stay close to the Grand Sage, she was content.

Pan-seared trout, shiitake-trout rolls, trout caviar, and trout slices—when these uniquely flavored trout dishes were served, a knock at the door finally reminded them of Komer’s arrival: “My lord baron, please forgive my tardiness. I hope I haven’t disturbed your meal.”

Lebrí and Sorenberg remained remarkably calm at Portalan’s arrival. Komer’s actions were always unexpected; Lebrí never interfered, and Sorenberg was utterly indifferent. Lome, on the other hand, was quite interested in this bearded captain who had traveled with them for three days. His behavior during those days greatly expanded her knowledge—how to fish at sea, how to identify weather patterns from clouds, how to distinguish different types of ships—all of which impressed her with the captain’s enthusiasm.

Odessa’s night scene was beautiful and filled with a sensual atmosphere. It was the largest city in the Bosen Plain and the second-largest port in the entire Homer region, after Cyprus. Following the Sim River northwest from Plovdiv into the canal district, one could reach Gutenberg, the capital of the Gallia region. It was also an important slave trading market in the Homer region, where slaves from various ethnic groups in the south could be bought. Even on the slave black market, rare chimaera slaves could be found—though such trades were kept highly secret. After all, in these port cities near the sea, angering the chimaera, who considered themselves children of the sea gods, was the wisest thing to avoid, as it would bring punishment from everyone.

Perhaps to satisfy the monotonous lives of sailors who spent their days at sea, Odessa had no shortage of entertainment venues, rivaling Cyprus in number. Here, the number of slave prostitutes and free prostitutes even exceeded that of Cyprus—after all, Cyprus was still the capital of Homer. From any perspective, sex trade seemed something not recognized by religious figures.

The vibrant nightlife did not distract Komer and Portalan—no, he should be called Hayreddin, Hayreddin Barbarossa. Perhaps they were equally interested in women, but for now, they seemed more interested in getting to know each other better.

Portalan, now known as Hayreddin Barbarossa, had a background that was not unfamiliar to Komer. The Barbarossa family was considered a large and influential clan in Sparta. However, due to their excessive size, most of the collateral branches were excluded except for the most legitimate line of the family, forcing many branches to adopt other surnames. Yet, the Hayreddin branch seemed to refuse to give up what they considered their noble surname, though their efforts met with cruel irony.

In Obea, when Hayreddin began his seafaring life, he was forbidden from using the Barbarossa surname. The reason was simple: the Barbarossa family in Sparta filed a lawsuit in the Obean city court, claiming that Hayreddin was not a true member of their family. Hayreddin was forced to seemingly abandon his surname, a humiliation that was undoubtedly a great blow to him. He hoped to prove himself through success. In just ten years, he rose from an ordinary sailor to a navigator. But the exam to become a navigator not only depleted his savings but also left him in heavy debt, forcing him to take jobs elsewhere for several years. One setback after another struck him. When he mustered the courage to pursue a elven woman, she rejected him coldly on the grounds that he could not use the Barbarossa surname. All of this was due to the actions of his own clan members, almost driving Hayreddin to the point of wanting to kill all those noble descendants who could use the Barbarossa surname at will.

Comer showed great understanding toward Haidrin’s slightly drunken confessions. Though he didn’t believe a surname could change anything—he even wanted to abandon his own Lessor surname—he understood that for some people, surnames and families were indeed an inseparable part of their lives. He could only say that Haidrin was too fixated on this, to the point of dueling with members of his family. Naturally, he was then framed for attempting revenge murder and drunken rape of a tavern waitress—a clichéd story that had played out countless times in every city. Haidrin seemed to be just another actor in it, unfortunately playing the tragic role. Escape seemed the only way out, and that depended on his good relations in the Southern Mediterranean. But no matter how strong those relations were, no one dared defy the arrest warrant from the city-state courts. After all, the Corinthian City-States League held significant influence throughout the Mediterranean. To evade the legal force of the arrest warrant, escaping the Mediterranean became Haidrin’s only chance of survival.

“Lord Baron, I have a question. It seems you’re about to embark on a long journey this time. May I know your destination?” Haidrin gently swayed the glass in his hand, the glint in his dark brown eyes seeming to hint at something.

“First to Luxembourg. I plan to enter the Java Marshes to meet the Jellyfish People,” Comer said, unwilling to hide his purpose.

“The Jellyfish People?” Haidrin had an extraordinary sensitivity to waterways. “Could it be that you intend to persuade them to open a water route on the Catalonia River?”

“Heh, Mr. Haidrin is truly sharp. You managed to guess my purpose just from my words. Indeed, you’re probably aware of the current situation in my territory. Philip is using his naval fleet to suppress me constantly, affecting trade with Middelton and the northern regions. Now, the floating bridges on the Nise River have been burned down. Even if they hadn’t been, the Bruce Fortress looms like a noose around the neck of Caucasus. Caucasus can’t continue like this—the situation of being controlled by others is too dangerous. Especially since we in Caucasus still can’t produce our own food, and our mineral products need more export markets.”

“So you want to open up the Catalonia River as a route to the interior of the continent? My lord, do you realize that Luxembourg and other countries along the Catalonia River already thought of this idea? Why hasn’t it been realized? The Jellyfish people’s closed-minded customs deter anyone; they won’t accept any conditions.” Shaking his head with regret, probably believing that Komer’s journey this time would yield no results, Haireding said gloomily, “Rather than wasting effort on this, my lord, you might as well think of ways in the Mediterranean. I’ve heard that Middelton is right under the Grey Skulls’ noses, but the leader of the Goths seems to have a good relationship with you. Why not seek his help to solve this problem?”
“There’s no need to be cautious. The relationship between the Caucasus and the Grey Skulls is nothing but mutual exploitation. I do have a gentleman’s agreement with the Goths, but he won’t help me resolve my conflicts with Homer’s navy. He only promises not to attack fleets that have dealings with Middelton. Besides, isn’t he currently engaged in a fierce battle with Katrina? It’s even less likely that he’ll pay attention to our affairs in the Caucasus.” Komer smiled faintly.