Anderson, who was enjoying cheese and cassava bread, looked up at Danitz and nodded thoughtfully:
“I don’t know why, but I don’t really want to leave West Balam. Haha, since we’re here, as a treasure hunter, how can I go back empty-handed?
“In those vast jungles and abandoned temples, there are gold, jewels, antiques, and perhaps magical items waiting for us to rescue them!”
Danitz pursed his lips and gulped down the remaining “Guadal” in his glass.
It was a drink made from a berry indigenous to West Balam, orange-yellow in color, sour and sweet, refreshing and thirst-quenching, and containing a certain amount of caffeine to help fight fatigue and stay alert.
After putting down his glass and picking up a napkin to wipe his mouth, Danitz let out a “Hah” and said:
“I feel like you’ve got some ulterior motive.”
“I wish that were the case.” Anderson laughed, not at all bothered.
He was having coffee with his breakfast.
In East and West Balam, there are several high-quality coffee-producing regions, only slightly less famous than Feynapotter’s highland coffee, the Southern Continent’s highland coffee, and Firmer coffee from the Pas Valley near the Star Plateau.
Before Danitz could respond, Anderson smiled and continued:
“Isn’t this actually great? I provide protection for free, and you act as my interpreter—everyone benefits.”
Thinking that he was only a Sequence 7 and was being hunted by one organization after another, Danitz inexplicably felt that Anderson’s words made some sense.
He cleared his throat and said:
“But there will be times when I’ll ask you to stay away.”
“If you say ‘please,’ I have no problem with that.” Anderson said in a relaxed tone.
Danitz then put on his cloak and headed toward the inn’s entrance to begin the day’s investigation.
On the way, he suddenly blurted out:
“Have you ever had an experience where you often dream of an angel descending and wrapping you in its wings?
“No, not just in dreams—sometimes the same hallucination occurs when I’m awake.”
Anderson glanced at the gauntlets Danitz was wearing, pondered for a few seconds, and then smiled:
“Have you been worshipping some hidden existence?
“Or have you come into contact with something ancient?”
Danitz’s expression stiffened, and he forced a smile:
“If it were as simple as you say, I’d have figured out the reason long ago!”
As he spoke, he brushed past three men entering the inn and walked out.
Anderson habitually sized up passersby to confirm the environment, so he casually glanced at the three men. He saw that there was one master and two servants. The master was tall with a brownish complexion and soft features, seemingly a mix of Balam and Loen blood. His attire was more in the style of the Northern Continent—a silk top hat, black suit, and a gold-inlaid walking stick.
Of the two servants, one was a standard local, seemingly from a plantation, holding a spare walking stick and a leather suitcase for his master. The other was also mixed-race, with a fleshy face, loose clothing, and a rapier at his waist, apparently acting as a bodyguard.
Anderson didn’t pay much attention and followed Danitz out into the street.
He pointed with interest at the various coffins being pulled by horses or carried by men, each with a different design:
“Want to try one?
“It’s very interesting. Once you get used to it, you won’t find death so scary. Maybe at any moment you’ll push open the lid and stand up again.”
Danitz glanced askance at those strange conveyances and shook his head without hesitation:
“As a pirate, you have to believe in the Lord of the Storms to some degree and avoid certain things. Staying away from coffins is one of them.”
“I’m different. I have no taboos.” Anderson casually took out a few “Delisi” coins and bought several newspapers from a newsboy hawking on the street.
It must be said, in terms of the newsboy system, the major cities in the Southern Continent were no worse than the Northern Continent, after all, labor was cheaper and there were more children who needed to supplement their family’s income.
As Danitz walked toward the intersection looking for a carriage for foreigners, he took a newspaper from Anderson and quickly flipped through it.
Suddenly, he noticed a news item:
“…The famous pirate who called himself the ‘Hell Admiral,’ Ludwell, was killed by the crazy adventurer Gehrman Sparrow. His ‘Black Tulip’ and entire fleet were taken over by Mirella, who calls himself the ‘Death’s Envoy’…”
“What…” Danitz’s mouth slowly opened, and he couldn’t close it for a long time.
He finally understood why Gehrman Sparrow had told him to be careful of the Church of the Dead!
This madman had actually killed Ludwell, the foremost of the seven Pirate Admirals!
After more than ten seconds, Danitz, still dazed, handed the newspaper to Anderson beside him:
“Look at this.”
With a smile, Anderson took the newspaper and scanned it very quickly.
After a brief silence, he whistled and chuckled:
“That guy deserves a new nickname.
“The Pirate Admiral Slayer!”