Michael nodded. Rising from his seat, he poured wine into a glass from the bottle on the captain's desk and spoke.
"Yes. Thanks to your efforts, the Radiant Holy Kingdom's economy is faltering. They're probably starting to realize it, too. It won't be long before they begin scouring the nearby seas to root us out."
Drake nodded silently.
After taking a sip from the glass Michael handed him, he asked,
"Are you giving us this task to keep us away from them?"
Michael, leaning against the captain's pillar and feeling the ship's gentle rocking, shook his head.
"No, not exactly. This is sothing that truly needs to be done. And it's a job only you and your seasoned crew can accomplish."
A spark of curiosity lit up Drake's handso face.
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.
"Now you've piqued my interest. What exactly do you want us to do?"
Michael saw the glint of ocean-hardened curiosity in Drake's eyes—and smiled.
"I want you to find a treasure island."
Drake paused, a cigar held between his lips, just as he was about to light it.
A violent wind howled outside, but the captain's quarters—buried deep within the magical ship—remained utterly still.
Only the sea spray beyond the window and the endlessly rising waves revealed the fury of the raging sea.
Michael, staring at the clipped end of the cigar, sank briefly into thought.
The salty tang of the sea lingered in the air, tickling his nose.
In one corner of the captain's room, Marcus and Miaomiao slept soundly, snoring in rhythm. They were exhausted from a long stretch of flight.
Drake, watching the peaceful expression on his lord's face, turned to gaze out the window.
Just that afternoon, the sea had been calm and picturesque—but now, crashing waves and flashing lightning battled for dominance, turning the ocean into a chaotic battlefield.
After a long silence, Drake finally asked again. He still couldn't grasp what his lord truly ant.
"The treasure island… are you serious?"
Without a trace of hesitation, Michael nodded. His handso face was calm, yet resolute, unwavering.
Taken aback by such firmness, Drake lowered his cigar and scratched his head.
His hair, sun-bleached and wind-worn, bore the marks of a man seasoned by the sea.
With a strained smile, he asked again.
"…My lord, you don't an that treasure island—the one from the legends about , do you?"
He had been born a noble knight, yet beca the most infamous pirate in history.
Drake's na had beco a legend across the seas, his notoriety amplified by a string of rumored affairs with the Queen of Celeste.
Their tragic end had only deepened the fascination around him, birthing countless tales and folklore.
Among them, the most widely spread was the legend of the treasure island.
According to the story, just before he was lured into capture by a false summons from the Queen and delivered into the hands of the Radiant Holy Kingdom, he buried all his treasures on a hidden island.
This island—unmarked on any map—was said to appear only at certain tis and dates. Among sailors, it was known as the "Cursed Isle."
Many had tried to find it, desperate to uncover the treasure Drake was said to have left behind, but no one ever succeeded.
Naturally—because such an island didn't exist in the first place.
Regardless of the truth, the tale of the treasure island had taken on a life of its own among seafarers.
It even had its own song!
Michael had once stopped by a tavern at the port and heard the tune sung by a drunken sailor—he rembered laughing out loud at the absurdity of it.
Now, with a wry chuckle, Michael waved his hand.
"Ha! Of course not. That would be nonsense."
Relieved by his master's imdiate denial, Drake offered a sheepish grin in return.
Indeed, it would be odd to ask the man in question to go looking for his own mythical island.
"Then… what kind of treasure island are you talking about?"
There were quite a few islands throughout history that had been dubbed "treasure islands."
But what Michael sought now wasn't one of those ordinary legends.
Leaning forward across the table, he spoke in a low voice.
"Saint Hanna Island—the place where Radiance was born and first perford a miracle. I want to find that island."
anwhile, Antonio—the leader of the Sacred Sea Knights and the pope's most trusted confidant—stood silently, staring down at the trembling captain kneeling before him.
The man's lips quivered as he glanced nervously at Antonio's face, then began pleading again.
He had already repeated himself countless tis. Sweat poured down his plump face like rain.
As the captain of a holy cargo ship and the brother of a high-ranking clergyman, the man had lived a life of privilege. To be subjected to this kind of interrogation was beyond anything he had ever endured.
"Well, uh… there's really not much I can say. I simply crossed the sea along with the other cargo ships, and I watched them vanish into the mist as they followed the designated route."
He licked his dry lips and launched into yet another excuse.
"The reason I didn't follow the designated route was, um… well…"
He trailed off, offering a groveling smile as he looked up at Antonio.
As a fellow man, he believed this level of honesty might be tolerated.
"I must ask for your understanding before I tell you this. If you can promise that, I'll be completely honest—yes, truly."
Antonio gave no reaction.
The captain took this silence as approval and began speaking freely.
"As you may know, my wife is the illegitimate daughter of the forr cardinal, now one of the elders of the Holy Kingdom—Lord Aurelius. So, I married her out of duty, not love… And, well, I am still a man with desires…"
For a brief mont, Antonio wondered if he could just cut the pig down and find another witness.
But the number of people who had actually witnessed the last monts of the missing cargo ships was extrely limited.
If a trial were to be held, a witness with credible identity would be essential. And that made replacents hard to co by.
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