Chapter 533: Fernandez
Translator: Translation Nation Editor: Translation Nation
Sheyan was brimming with puzzlement.
There weren’t radar systems of satellite trackings in this era, how did the Vikings so effortlessly locate us?
Bear this in mind, the present Hill Maiden was confined to near coastal voyages, and was seemingly a crippled ship. Furthermore, the crew’s battling capabilities had declined substantially. If those pirates located them, his remaining crew would very likely be bathed in blood by Ammand; not a single would be spared, while the Hill Maiden be incinerated.
That pirate exclaimed with alarm.
"Aye, it wasn’t Ammand who found us but those seven vikings, who proclaimed themselves to sense the undiminished aura of their clan’s sacred artifact haltin’ right on our ship. That be how they found us easily."
In that instant, many notions flashed past Sheyan’s mind. He instantly asked.
"How was their attitude towards ye?"
That pirate pondered before replying.
"Very ordinary."
Sheyan and Mogensha exchanged glances. There was something fishy about this.
The viking pirates were renowned for their barbarous and frenzied nature. Furthermore, Sheyan had just slain a leader of theirs yesterday, yet those vikings actually treated his crew members very ordinarily? That was practically as inconceivable as a japanese female not wearing a mini skirt!
Sheyan contemplated briefly before he ordered.
"Return to advise Philip. If those vikings wish to meet with me, they will have to wait. Otherwise, don’t receive them with particular cordiality, just maintain the routine. Provide the same meals our crewmates consume and don’t show them favour."
That pirate widened his mouth but ultimately nodded his head.
"Aye sir. I will deliver your orders."
Sheyan turned to Blacksail.
"Return with him, I’m afraid Philip alone won’t be able to hand the pressure."
Blacksail nodded.
"Aye, cap’n. Return, I shall."
Sheyan continued strolling as he deliberated over the viking’s intentions. Very soon, they arrived at the Sheffield Trading Company.
The governor’s old butler wasn’t present, and in his place was another male with a face of many hardships; his thick calluses between the webbings of his fingers indicated his life of wielding broadswords at sea. However, this individual was wearing a wig of nobility, and dressed in lilac colored button garment; appearing totally inharmonious with the backdrop.
When that man noticed the keepsake Sheyan brought, he further inquired if Sheyan had any objects he desired to auction away. Following that, Sheyan verified his purchasing capability by producing spendable 5,000 gold guineas. Finally, the male informed Sheyan that he could only bring along two others, before he then lead Sheyan towards the back.
A carriage was stationed behind the shop.
After that male offered several words to the carriage rider, they entered and shut the carriage doors. Then, he proceeded to unfurl the curtains of the carriage windows, and advised Sheyan and company not to pull aside the curtains; if not, they would lose the qualifications to participate.
Their carriage ride wasn’t very long, and it probably made several loops of detours around before it halted inside an exceptionally vast courtyard. The courtyard’s inner residence appeared rather antique, and lofty walls filled with brambles were enclosed the area.
As they advanced following the path, they then noticed the interior decor was pretty outstanding. It was basically rather identical to a church. Instead, the atmosphere was analogous to a tavern, with a stale odour that of a salon. The surrounding windows were masked up sternly, while candlesticks holding lighted candles were present. Except in the place of typical wooden stools were three seater sofas.
After Sheyan took his seat, a female attendant strutted over and placed a set of silver coffee ware before them. Truthfully speaking, even Reef who hailed from a noble household was rather stunned by these complicated coffee wares.
As it turns out, the coffee here wasn’t brewed directly from coffee pots, but a unique coffee filter presser. Beneath it was an ancient looking stamped drinking glass which received the dripping coffee, an apparatus that slowly grinded away this generation of coffee making. During the brewing process, a water clock cup would be placed inside the stamped drinking glass, while coffee powder placed inside the coffee filter presser. Pressurizing it was a metallic lid with holes, before rinsing in with hot water; allowing the coffee to spill into the cup beneath.
To maintain the heat of the coffee, the mug was placed inside a bowl of hot water, as the coffee dripping process would require ten minutes; where the coffee may turn cold. Before all these, the female attendant would inquire of the partaker. If they prefered a bitter taste, the original mug of coffee would be served. But if they prefered a sweeter taste, a layer of extremely sweet condensed milk would be laced at the bottom of the mug. After the coffee drops into the mug, the black coffee would blend perfectly with the condense milk.
Merely a mug of coffee alone was given such significance. One could tell the auction organizers had indeed spent great efforts in this; unwilling to be sloppy at all.
The participants of this auction were all slowly enjoying in leisure fashion as they chatted merrily and loudly amongst each other. Approximately half an hour later, heavy chests could be seen being transported towards the back. Evidently, preparation works were building up to a climax.
Finally, an elderly male dressed in a black swallow-tailed coat skipped onto the auction stage.
Sheyan recognized this male, he was indeed the old butler of the Sheffields Trading Company. It was no wonder he held the qualifications to invite Sheyan to the auction. Another ravishing maiden strolled up to the stage.
Sheyan was immediately astonished after seeing this maiden. Her features were exceedingly familiar, and her appearance were starkly similar to the governor’s daughter, lady Elizabeth Swann. It appears that her makeup was meticulously done.
She donned a tight victorian dress which enhanced her slim waist. However, the consequence of that was difficulty in breathing and an abnormally straight spine. Although this era didn’t scrutinized the ampleness of a woman’s bosom, her dress still revealed a humble cleavage.
A circular translucent white headscarf shielded her head, as her flax colored braided head rolled down her fair bosom. Not forgetting the fan she was holding, it gauzed lightly with white decorations by the edges.
"Ho, it seems that the card details her name. Yurena Swann, she should be a cousin of Elizabeth Swann. This means this old Butler, McKinnery Swann, is blood related to governor Swann. Indeed, kin is more trustworthy than others. It isn’t strange both female cousins look quite alike."
Sheyan thought as he suddenly noticed another familiar person, a familiarity that currently stemmed from neither hostile or amicable nature. Indeed, it was Tortuga’s Mister Skrtel whom had lost face due to the conflict with Sheyan.
Contrary to their expectations, when Skrtel noticed Sheyan, he paused awkwardly for a moment before swapping to a chuckling demeanor and warmly nodded his head. Two crude plumpy-waisted guards were escorting Skrtel as they stared at Sheyan with vigilance. Of course, the unlucky Alan Dale wasn’t one of those bodyguards.
Sheyan was naturally a shrewd individual. Upon viewing the courtesy of Skrtel, he spontaneously went over and sat beside him. After their greetings, Sheyan smiled with squinted eyes while speaking.
"After returning from my homeland after a decade, everyone appears foreign to me now. I wonder if Mister Skrtel can offer some introductions.
Skrtel stared at him distractedly before following up with a chortle. As a merchant himself, such ‘introductions’ would require no costs and instead deepen the relationship between both parties. Hence, he seized the opportunity to point out several individuals to Sheyan.
"That brat with the fractured leg is a pirate named Bloodshark. He belongs to himself only, not associating to any factions but he treats his affairs with strict principality. As long a merchant ship wouldn’t resist him, he would only demand twenty percent of their goods. Under normal circumstances, merchants would bluntly pay up upon encountering him."
"That brat over there is Wahabu. Hailing from the arab world, his identity is enshrouded in mysteries."
Sheyan was instantly stumped upon hearing him hail from the arab world. I’m afraid he could very well be Ammand’s agent!
The more he pondered over this possibility, the more glances he took. Wahabu maintained a lifeless countenance, while he silently fixated his attention into his coffee mug; as though his whole world revolved around the coffee mug.
"That should be the representative of the gypsies. With her veil, I can’t tell who she is."
Sheyan observed the veiled lady, discovering that she indeed emanated the same strange mysteriousness of those gypsy women. Of course, an aged face should be masqueraded beneath the veil, while her status could only be fathomed from the size of her crystal ball of the color of her veil. In spite of that, her gaze was as sharp as a needle, piercing out with provocative admonishing. When her gaze landed on Sheyan, it brimmed with a magnified vile intent; as though each eye recorded of a nefarious curse!
Sheyan shrugged his shoulders and ignored her. His dealings with the gypsies had all along been a fair transaction, both parties refraining from lording over each other. Yet those women carried an overbearing style of rudeness and maliciousness. Sheyan didn’t have a single favourable impression of her at all.
At this moment, another three individuals walked into the auction hall.
The foremost individual grew a curved beard and his clothes appeared garish and remarkable; emanating an unspeakable arrogance as he walked. It was as though he wouldn’t lower his chin even in death.
After noticing those three individuals, Skrtel’s face changed.
"Why is he here? He truly dares to set foot on british soil?"
Sheyan inquired curiously.
"Other pirates are also here, why can’t he?"
Skrtel answered earnestly.
"Because he is a spaniard and is one of spain’s finest merchant! Fernandez!"
Upon hearing that name, Sheyan instantly recalled past events as though they had recently happened.
During that past year as Ammand’s subordinate, he had pillaged a merchant ship belonging to this grand merchant. Furthermore, that ship actually contained a decaying undead. Sheyan truly didn’t expect himself to be witnessing his genuine self today.