Reborn As a Pirate

Jingle bells!

With the crisp ringing of the bell, a drunken sailor rushed out of the gate of the tavern, staggered and bumped into Yacharin.

Acharin took a step back in disgust.

The sailor opened his sleepy eyes, made sure that what he bumped into was not the kind of black and white dress of a big man, and began to roll up his sleeves: "Don't you have eyes?"

Yacharin pulled his belt helplessly, revealing the leather holster on his back waist.

The sailor suddenly sobered up, "I'm sorry, sir."

"Don't you have eyes?"

"Leave off the bar, sorry! Sorry!"

"roll."

The sailor rolled neatly, Yacharin brushed off his silk shirt, and pushed open the wooden door of the tavern.

Jingle bells!

Noisy, dark, and dirty, most port taverns around the world are the same chaos, because their customers are sailors.

Yacharin rubbed the greasy floor in distaste, and raised his head to look at the scenery of the tavern.

The huge hall is about 200 square meters, with burning fireplaces on both sides and round tables in the middle.

There are candles on the table, the dim candlelight and the orange fireplace fire are the only light sources in the hall, torn apart by figures, shadows everywhere.

Those shadows are places where filth is hidden. Some people gamble, some sell stolen goods, and some sell information. If you observe carefully, you can even hear the groans of prostitutes and see the sensation of white flowers.

The brightest part of the tavern is the bar.

It is near the fireplace on one side, and there are rows of candles on the curved high cabinet, and there are tall round stools outside, most of them are empty, only a few, sitting alone.

Yacharin whistled, avoided the red-faced drunks all the way, and sat on the edge of the bar with his belt on.

"Have a Bledsoe, sir."

The burly tavern owner put down the huge wine barrel with a bang, and punched it on the high cabinet with a loud sound and a vicious shape: "There is no such sour and dirty thing, only the bumpkins from the New World and the French pigs across the strait can do it." Chicken tails in the holy goblet!"

"Barkley is right!" The drunks in the hall shouted, "To Buckley, this drink is free!"

"Long live the French pig!"

"cheers!"

Gudou Gudu, the audience cheered, Yacharin fell to the ground when he heard two plops, and then there was a fight over whether to help and who would pay the bill. A man tries to stop a brawl in front of him.

Yacharin unbuttoned in embarrassment: "Boss, what do you want?"

"Malt fresh beer!" Buckley patted the half-person-high wooden barrel at his feet, "If you want to eat something, we also have bread, salted fish, bacon, leg meat and wheat bran broth."

Yacharin popped a shilling: "You look at the arrangement."

"Francesca!"

Buckley yelled at the back kitchen, and immediately a freckled aunt in a black and white maid outfit appeared.

Her arm was thicker than that of Charing, and she held a huge wooden wine glass and a wine barrel the size of a human head in one hand, and slammed it on the high cabinet with two bang bangs.

Crash!

She easily lifted the lid of the wooden barrel, poured a full glass of malt beer, and pushed it casually.

The wooden cup slid along the bar and stopped in front of Yacharin. Francesica shouted: "The wine is here!"

The bread was too hard and moldy; the salted fish was stinky, and the oil and salt were sticky; the bacon and leg meat were burnt, and the wheat bran broth looked rich. Yacharin tried to take a sip, But tasted a shocking murder from the taste...

The salt seller was beaten to death!

He thanked Francesica with effort and dignity, tried his best to keep his eyes off the long chute of ash and juice on the bar, and began tasting.

Thank God, malt beer is really for people to drink, not to poison anyone!

He took a sip of alcohol and had no place to rest his hands and feet. After waiting for a while, a brown-haired man with a nose job and a big mustache sat beside him.

"Barkley, fresh beer." The man shouted into the bar.

Barkley stared at him for a while, gritted his teeth and said, "Aman, Southampton doesn't welcome Frenchmen during this time!"

"War is something for rich businessmen, isn't it?" Amman didn't care, took three pennies out of his pocket and placed them on the high cabinet.

Buckley put away the penny angrily, and said viciously: "For the sake of the old customers, get out of my tavern after drinking. Otherwise, I can't guarantee that you can walk out alive tonight."

"Have a drink and go, my old friend."

Francesca imitated Amman and pushed a glass of fresh beer for Amman, then ran to the lobby to clean up the table with a dirty towel, and the bar counter became a lonely corner again, even though it was bright, it still couldn't attract any attention.

Amman drank half a glass of fresh beer in one gulp, breathed a sigh of relief, and said abruptly: "Ex...Mr. .”

There was no change in Yacharin's face.

"The English are organizing a trap."

"Ok?"

"In two days, the family will receive information that the Drake Chamber of Commerce will transport goods worth tens of thousands of pounds to Spain along the seam of the Celtic Sea and Cantabrian. This is a trap."

Yacharin held the wine glass with both hands, covering most of his face.

"The actual situation is that Lorraine Drake leads an empty ship, seven Brigantines, who can attack and defend, and that idiot Villen can't catch him. The real cargo fleet is at his ten o'clock direction, 25 kilometers away from him, which is the furthest distance for a Karak-type lookout, Brigantine can't see that far."

"This……"

"This batch of goods was ordered by Grand Duke Victoria of the Basque Country, including a batch of ancient Roman goldware and other luxury goods. The English merchants dare not neglect, so they set up this trap. Their purpose is to lure Villen away, Not only can the Cantablian route be vacated to deliver goods, but also an ambush can be set up in the Celtic Sea to pinch the family's fleet, so that the more you win, the less you have, and the final decision will be made."

Amman gasped when he heard it: "Is your news...accurate?"

"I'm on the Butterfly! Don't I know if Lorraine Drake's fleet has any cargo?"

"This is the crux of the problem." Amman looked at Yacharin intently, "Acharin, you are now a sailor of the Drake Chamber of Commerce, a traitor to the family, why did you betray your employer?"

"Employer? If it wasn't for that idiot Villen that killed me, I would need to work for the British guy?" Yacharin showed hatred on his face, "Do you know what contract I signed?"

"What contract?"

"A self-redemption contract! For two years, no matter how well I do or how outstanding I am, the vampire Lorraine Drake doesn't need to pay me a penny. On his boat, I'm a laughing stock, even ordinary sailors You can call and drink at me!"

"This situation must change." Acharin took a deep breath, "You immediately bring the news back to the family, and let the family arrange for Velen to do whatever he can. This time, the Butterfly must be captured! Wait until you get Lorraine Drake If I am hanged, I will be free! With this great service, I will definitely be reused when I return to the family. At that time, the account with Wei Lun... we will settle it slowly!"