Chapter 2: Fruit of Labor (1)

Watching Conan, who was immersed in alcohol every day, Ramla’s heart ached bitterly. Everything had changed—her most beloved eldest son had turned into a drunkard, while the once wayward son was now her master. Though she refused to acknowledge his status, it was a fact beyond her control. She knew that although the nobles in the city still held a wait-and-see attitude, Komer’s arrogance and disdain had made them feel insulted and humiliated, leaving them in constant anxiety.

Odessa had completely submitted to that wayward son. It was said that the Odessa Merchant Guild even granted Komer the title of Guardian of the Abyssal Sea. Though this was somewhat presumptuous, it showed the merchants’ sincere welcome for Komer.

Philip’s small fleet, composed of a few sea vagrants and lowly fishermen, immediately accepted Komer’s offer and became the first to submit to their new master. Although neither the nobles nor the merchants held these ragtag forces in high regard, they still exerted considerable influence. After the collapse of the Knights Order and the Storm Infantry Regiment, Komer failed to gain the support of these scattered armed groups. Even though he had received an edict from Katyn, Homer’s fleet set a bad precedent, acting like a weather vane that signaled Homer’s gradual fall under Komer’s control.

Ramla realized she could do nothing to change this. To her, that wayward son was like a thorn in her heart—one she couldn’t pull out. How wonderful it would be if all this glory belonged to Conan. But looking at Conan, who was sound asleep in bed, Ramla could only express her helplessness and sorrow through sighs.

This situation couldn’t last much longer. Though Komer had yet to set foot in Cyprus, Ramla knew that once her illegitimate younger son entered that city, everyone there would prostrate themselves at his feet. Seeing the merchants in a state of panic, the nobles unable to sleep, and the citizens constantly talking about Odessa’s splendor, Ramla understood that the wayward son had already succeeded in stirring up everyone’s emotions. This was exactly the effect he wanted. Before long, these people would obediently, even crying, beg for his forgiveness. Such was reality.

When three armed warships bearing the bear head flag and the sword and shield flag entered Bahomun, they caught the attention of almost everyone on the docks. For people who lived inland, these large warships, which usually only appeared at sea, were truly rare sights—tall hulls, numerous masts, and sailors with expressions of immense pride, walking back and forth on the ships as if on flat ground, their ruggedness and strength making those on the docks realize that this fleet was no ordinary one.

As rows of sailors stepped off the ships, the people on Bahomun’s docks realized that this fleet belonged to the Caucasus, to Lord Komer. A mixture of surprise and pride quickly spread through this multi-ethnic town. For a region that had always been confined to the inland areas, it was astonishing that they already had a fleet capable of navigating the seas and protecting Caucasus merchant ships everywhere. This sense of security and achievement was undoubtedly a pleasant surprise for any Caucasian.

Although the sailors’ attire appeared somewhat messy compared to the armor of Caucasian soldiers, that was due to the rough seas; it was unrealistic to expect their armor and clothing to be perfectly uniform. But these were not matters of concern to the common people. All they knew was that ships from the Catania River now had a fleet belonging to the Caucasus to escort their merchant ships.

Looking at Hayreddin, whose skin was dark and shiny yet whose spirit was incredibly vigorous, Komer could sense his wild and fierce nature from a distance. Gold always shines, but staying confined in the Caucasus would only dull such gold. Once placed in the midst of storms, it would be time for him to show what he was made of.

Komer felt deeply satisfied. His quick idea had led to the creation of a fleet without much expense or effort. He had left everything in Hayreddin’s hands, and now it seemed they were already reaping the rewards.

“Well done, Haidrin! I’m very satisfied to have been able to build such a fleet. I’m proud of you!” The current Komer was no longer the same Caucasian lord of days past; countless trials and hardships had brought about fundamental changes in him. The lordly demeanor he displayed in every gesture made Haidrin realize that his benefactor was no longer the once low-key little lord he used to be.

“It’s all thanks to the lord’s guidance and care. Without your full support, our fleet could never have achieved such results,” Haidrin said with a wide smile, his snow-white teeth standing in sharp contrast to his dark skin.

“How’s things going with Demisheme?” Komer was most concerned about the pawn he had placed on the island of Sifnos. That location was strategically important as a gateway between the Southern Mid-Sea and the Vast Continent. Previously, merchant ships in the Southern Mid-Sea had to take a longer route north to reach the Vast Continent to avoid Demisheme’s attacks. He had chosen that place as a base for his naval forces by taking advantage of the conflict between the Ka family’s fleet and the Gray Skulls in the Northern Mid-Sea. However, this also placed considerable pressure on Haidrin, as he often had to face the fierce Demisheme pirates alone, without the support of the Ka family’s fleet.

Haidrin had been vague in his letters to Komer, only mentioning significant progress in the Southern Storm Sea. But perhaps out of confidentiality reasons, he hadn’t gone into detail.

“That’s precisely why I returned to the Caucasus this time. As soon as I arrived in Mardan, I heard that the lord was inspecting Bahomon, so I came upriver to see him. I intended to report to the lord on the achievements of our Caucasus fleet since its establishment,” Haidrin said. The glow in his eyes made Komer realize that something important must have prompted Haidrin to enter the inland waters without permission. After all, in the Caucasus, Haidrin’s identity had not yet been revealed, and entering the inland areas so openly meant that his naval power would be exposed.

“Oh?” Komer gestured for Haidrin to sit down and discuss things in detail. He wasn’t in a hurry to ask questions—maintaining proper decorum was a common practice among those in power.

“After our fleet was formed, we engaged Demisheme in seven battles. In the first battle, with the support of the Kashi fleet, we achieved an undefeated record. However, we lost the second, third, and fifth battles.” Haiding spoke calmly, as if describing something unrelated to him, but the memories evident in his expression allowed Komer to sense the brutality and bloodshed of those naval battles.

Nodding silently, Komer understood that this was inevitable—a fleet couldn’t succeed right from its inception; what mattered was the ultimate outcome.

“In the fourth battle, we drew. Starting from the sixth battle, we gained the upper hand. Then I allied with the countries of the Corinth Alliance to blockade the coasts of the Southern Central Ocean, completely cutting off Demisheme’s chances of obtaining supplies from the smugglers there. Forced to travel thousands of kilometers westward across the Storm Ocean to get supplies, I took the risk of leading the allied fleet deep into the Storm Ocean to ambush Demisheme right after they had replenished their supplies, and we finally achieved victory.”

Though it was just a few short sentences, Komer knew there were countless thrilling stories hidden within, along with many life-and-death struggles filled with sword fights, as well as numerous unknown conspiracies and betrayals.

From the edges of the Southern Central Ocean to the Storm Ocean had been Demisheme’s stronghold for years. The countries of the Southern Central Ocean had always feared Demisheme more than the Kashi fleet. After all, with the Kashi fleet, as long as you paid enough tolls and avoided excessive behavior, things were relatively manageable. But Demisheme’s armed group consisted of multiple factions with no restraint among them. Not only were they notorious for breaking rules, but they also moved unpredictably and even committed acts of plundering on land. Generally, the countries of the Southern Central Ocean preferred not to antagonize Demisheme. How did Haiding manage to get them to help with the blockade or even form an allied fleet? And to venture deep into the Storm Ocean to ambush Demisheme was like pulling teeth from a tiger’s mouth—the risks involved were unimaginable.

Hayredin could tell that this lord had understood the complexities hidden in his words. He was deeply moved to have a lord who could comprehend him so well. From the very beginning, the lord had supported him wholeheartedly—a move that would seem like throwing money down the drain for most people—but he remained unwavering. Moreover, he had even given Hayredin weapons as precious as divine artifacts, such as the Magic Gun and the Thousand-Mile Mirror, to a mere vagabond with no qualifications or connections. Other than repaying him with his life, Hayredin could think of no way to return the trust placed in him.

Fortunately, his adventures and efforts had finally yielded rich rewards. It was because of these achievements that Hayredin dared to return to the Caucasus in such a grand manner and was so eager to present this substantial reward to his lord.