Chapter 16: XVI. Church Court
Archer, while not exactly charismatic, could also be described as the kind everyone loathed, even dogs.
If Rein's rabies were logical, the result of playing out too many stale memes, of being obsessed with "Original God."
Then Archer was the genuine article, absolutely free of any preservatives, a native of the Western Continent with raw stupidity, embodying emotionality, quick temper, poor situational awareness, stubbornness, showing off – all shortcomings rolled into one.
What was most infuriating was that his looks weren't bad either. According to Western Continent standards, he was a handsome man, the epitome of the tough outsiders from Hollywood westerns of the 60s, with a resolute face, sullen eyes, ready to pretend to be deep the moment someone disagreed, always with alcohol and cigarettes.
"I've changed my mind; I'm not going anymore."
Fen lost all interest in going out as soon as he saw that Archer would be joining him. He'd initially planned to go into town to buy some supplies for his charms. However, he had this nagging feeling, like a thorn in his back, that he had forgotten something.
His gaze shifted to Morison. With half of his face disfigured, he was definitely one of the highest combatants on board, a threat that might not even have a known upper limit. He had never been drawn into a proper fight and had always ended battles almost instantaneously, in short durations, unpredictably like the abyss.
Like yesterday, those in charge of the bank weren't easy to handle; daring to escort valuables amidst the chaos of Beima Duchy certainly meant they were tough. But his strange throwing knives were as powerful as grenades, his dual daggers had a ghostly, elusive presence, and his weird whips made him a veritable human meat grinder.
Often called Little Killer, Morison had no trouble eliminating a few aliens with ease.
Following Fen's gaze, Liszt sensed his thoughts. Brother Sha was an oddball, not one to be judged by conventional standards; it wouldn't be surprising if he committed some outrageous act, like murdering everyone on board and fleeing. It was good for Fen to keep an eye on things, adding a bit of pressure to the others on the ship.
"Like it or not."
Liszt planned to find another scapegoat; enduring Archer's company alone was just too miserable.
"Hey, if the Captain says we go, we go together. Come on, First Officer, why are you eyeing Morison? Got something going on with him? I've completely forgotten about last night."
Archer downed a few drinks, confused by the odd atmosphere on board first thing in the morning.
Liszt almost spat out a mouthful of blood. Low emotional intelligence, you're worried Morison might betray us and flee. High emotional intelligence, I've forgotten all about last night.
At that moment, Morison was examining a matchlock gun, but he looked alertly over when he heard his name called.
Fen clenched his fist.
"No, it's nothing. Let's go; I've changed my mind again."
Fen thought Liszt was right; you can't always keep a constant watch over everyone, and he had indeed been too tense.
Covering all bases was never possible; one had to have the mindset of a gambler, where losing just means death, and that's that.
Ox was here, this powerhouse fish could hold his own, reliable in a crisis, and Fen knew he was a Level 1 fugitive with no place to hide, so there was no fear of him deserting.
"I'm coming too."
As the quartermaster, Wolman was undoubtedly the most idle person on board, his position nothing more than a figurehead. On a pirate ship, who would dare steal from the storage? Usually, they'd lose a hand first, then become fish food.
"You better rest up. There's no fighting involved in this trip to town, and with your size, we'd be lucky if someone didn't realize we're from the Black Sail Pirate Group."
Liszt flat-out rejected the idea. Wolman was quickly becoming a signature figure of the Black Sail, immediately associated with a Black Big when mentioned. His imposing figure, monstrous like a Black Lizard with a head full of sharp horns, was rather daunting, as depicted on the Bounty Order.
Besides, Wolman's race had a notoriously bad reputation, even extremely abhorrent.
If one could credit Emperor Aran with anything good, it was completely solving the issue of the Alien Race invasion from the Southern Wetlands, thoroughly suppressing them and declaring it an autonomous zone.
This vast territory, comparable to a country in size, was the main habitat of the Sub-dragon people. Due to few suitable crops and a limited supply of edible animals in the marsh, when the population exceeded resources, they would fall into the Malthus Trap, ultimately becoming bandits and invading neighboring countries.
The wetland was rife with miasma, and the continuous drizzle made it difficult for human soldiers to march. More died in the march from fevers and poisonous vapors than in battle.
Therefore, the place was impenetrable, yet they could launch attacks and withdraw at will, moving in and out freely.
Every few years, there would be a major disturbance, forcing nations to bolster their border defenses, sacrificing large numbers of troops and resources.
It was not until more than a decade ago that the Emperor's Heavenly Army descended that peace was restored.
The Emperor's Heavenly Soldiers' intervention became one of the few pieces of propaganda capital for the Aran Empire, constantly touting the Empire's heavenly might.
The Sub-dragon people were a race that nearly everyone wanted to attack, but when faced with them in reality, everyone preferred to go around them. Even though it has been peaceful for over ten years, the shadow lingered, not to mention the major rebellion a few years back which was also suppressed, but the Sub-dragon people had already been equated with evil races.
"Indeed, with your huge size, you better not get involved blindly," Archer grumbled.
"I'd like to sign up," Haywood said, having not spent much time in inland cities over the years.
Heaven Port was a very inclusive city; no matter where you were from, as long as you had money, you were a king. Haywood was actually tired of wandering around and rarely visited these continental cities.
"I'll call you 'big brother'." Liszt was dumbfounded, Haywood's Demon identity had to be kept hidden, "You have no business going there, anyone can go except you, just stay where it's cool on the ship."
Bounty Hunters, the navy, and now the Thief Guild—a list of enemies growing everywhere,
if they were to add in the bulls and snakes of the Church Court,
this ship might as well rename itself "SS Get Down", completely surrounded by enemies.
Liszt would rather provoke the most noxious Thief Guild than meddle with the religious forces of the Western Continent that have been rooted for thousands of years.
You might not realize what an ultimate madman someone would be if he believed that the Holy Spirit could have children through others.
Liszt often ridiculed the religion of the Western Continent, saying that belief could enhance one's fighting spirit, but a religion talented in boasting self-consistent metaphysics could easily turn a person into an ultimate fanatic, entering Blood Rage, turning charms into Berserkers was no trouble at all.
If a movement to eradicate superstition were to begin, it would be a deathblow.
Unfortunately, there actually were Magicians and metaphysics here, so it wasn't feasible.
On the Western Continent, there are no Priests in the traditional sense who could chant a spell and resurrect the Living Dead flesh and bones; if that were the case, the world would be at peace, and Mika's medical skills would be obsolete, fit only to be thrown into the sea as fish food.
Perhaps such Magic exists, but it would certainly be reserved for high-ranking Priests, individuals of such stature that lesser characters could not hope to encounter in their lifetimes.
The Priests within the adventurer's guild, which are essentially wild believers without Church Court credentials, being able to apply a charm or two is already the limit, understanding a couple of Beneficial Magic spells is considered top-notch talent.
The Priests of the Church Court, however, clad in heavy armor wielding nail head hammers with brains full of madness, are sinister figures who, when they come en masse to attack you, you have to ask yourself if you are afraid.
"All right, just the three of us, let's go,"
Liszt went down the gangway, taking the opportunity to guide the process of hiring sailors.
He didn't want to repeat the mistake of recruiting another strong man to lead a mutiny, like a toad skydiving, a terribly bold move.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone