The tavern's warmth lingered in Olbap's bones as he leaned back, patting his full stomach with a satisfied grin. Nothing beat a belly stuffed with roasted fish and bread, the kind of meal that made the world feel right. Across the table, Popeye polished off his plate, while Jerry stubbed out his cigarette, the last curls of smoke fading into the air. Olbap's eyes settled on Jerry, waiting for the reason he'd shown up unannounced.
"Alright, boys, time to talk business," Jerry said, his voice cutting through the tavern's low hum of laughter and clinking mugs. "Olbap, Popeye, you've got a new job."
Olbap leaned forward, elbows on the table. "What's the deal this time? How much are we moving?"
Jerry's grin was sharp, his eyes glinting with something Olbap couldn't quite place. "This one's big—bigger than anything you've done. I wanted to handle it myself, but the boss insisted it's you, Olbap, as the new point man for deliveries. You're taking 1,200 Red Tide bricks to Kutsukku Island. It's the largest shipment we've ever sold, so you'd better be sharp."
Olbap's eyebrows shot up, his mind already calculating. "That's a hell of a haul. Any intel on what I'm walking into? Trouble on the route or at Kutsukku?"
Jerry lit another cigarette, the match's flare casting shadows across his weathered face. "Kutsukku's like Krakenport—no government, just gangs running the show. Four crews control the island, but you're dealing with one: the Salt Dogs. They're the buyers. We don't usually make house calls to islands like that, but this deal's too good to pass up. You'll need to watch your back."
Olbap nodded, his fingers tapping the table. "So, we sail to Kutsukku, deliver 1,200 bricks to the Salt Dogs, and get out. You sure this island's not gonna turn into a bloodbath?"
Jerry exhaled a plume of smoke, his expression unreadable. "Can't promise it'll be clean, but you've got a knack for handling messes. You'll have 100 soldiers with you—armed and ready for anything. Just make damn sure the Red Tide goes to the Salt Dogs, not one of the other crews."
Olbap leaned back, processing. A hundred soldiers was a small army, but Kutsukku sounded like a powder keg. Jerry stood, tossing a coin onto the table for his meal. "It's all on you, kid. Don't screw it up." With a nod, he strode toward the exit, leaving Olbap and Popeye alone.
Olbap glanced at Popeye, who was already unrolling a map of the South Blue across the table, its edges curling from use. Olbap traced a finger along the route to Kutsukku, his mind racing. The island was far—two weeks round trip if they took a quieter path to avoid attention. Pirates were a given, their greed drawn to any ship heavy with cargo. Marines were trickier; without a pirate flag, Olbap's ship could pass as a merchant vessel, but a sharp-eyed patrol might still poke around. Jerry didn't prep a damn thing, Olbap thought, irritation flaring. Food, water, and security would fall on him, along with loading the bricks.
"Alright, Popeye," Olbap said, pointing at the map. "We'll take this route—less traffic, but longer. Should get us there and back in two weeks if we don't hit trouble. You handle food and water for the crew. I'll oversee loading the bricks with the soldiers."
Popeye nodded, folding the map with a grunt. "Got it. I'll hit up Old Marla—she's got the best stock for long hauls." He stood, his bulk casting a shadow as he headed out to track down the island's top supplier.
Olbap watched him go, his thoughts drifting. Krakenport was changing. Silco's operations had pumped beli into the island, stirring its stagnant economy. Fishermen, farmers, and bakers were working overtime, their pockets heavier than ever. Money was waking the place up, but Olbap saw more than that. When he took charge one day, he'd funnel enough beli to the people to rebuild Krakenport—not out of charity, but strategy. Happy workers were loyal workers, and loyalty was power. Still, he knew human nature too well—give too much, and greed would turn allies into vipers. Small, steady help tied to hard work was the way to go.
With Popeye off, Olbap mounted a horse he'd bought after his last run, its hooves kicking up dust as he rode toward the hidden lab. The journey took half the day, with pauses to let the horse rest, but by mid-afternoon, he reached the lab's concealed entrance, the air sharp with the chemical bite of Red Tide production. Inside, the storage vault was a fortress of crates, and a hundred armed soldiers stood ready, their Flintlocks and Mosquetes gleaming in the lantern light.
"Alright, listen up!" Olbap barked, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "You've rested long enough. Pair up, start loading the ship—1,200 bricks, not a single one damaged, or you're not eating."
The soldiers snapped to it, forming pairs and hauling crates with practiced efficiency. Each team carried ten bricks at a time, their boots thudding in rhythm. Olbap was impressed—they moved like a machine, no complaints, no delays. By dusk, the ship was loaded, the bricks secured in twelve stacks of 100, strapped tight against rain or rogue waves. Olbap counted them himself, double-checking for cracks or missing units. Everything was perfect.
Popeye arrived soon after, a horse-drawn cart groaning under barrels of water, dried fish, and bread—enough for two weeks. The crew packed it all below deck, and Olbap set the departure for dawn, when the light would give them a clear view of the sea. He claimed the captain's cabin for himself, a small perk after Jerry had taken it last time. With everything set, he settled in, the weight of the job settling over him like a storm cloud. Two weeks, 1,200 bricks, and an island full of gangs. Just another day, he thought, closing his eyes as the night deepened.
Meanwhile, in Silco's Office
Silco leaned back in his chair, the dim glow of a lantern casting long shadows across his desk. Rane stood before him, her posture sharp, her eyes locked on his. The air was heavy with unspoken tension, the kind that came before a gamble.
"You know your mission, Rane?" Silco asked, his voice low, commanding her full attention.
Rane's lips curved into a faint smirk. "Of course, Silco. You know you can trust me. Though it seems you're taking my warning about Olbap seriously."
Silco's fingers drummed the desk, his gaze distant. "We've known each other too long for me to ignore you. He reminds me of myself—dangerous, ambitious. You think he's capable of it?"
Rane shrugged, her expression unreadable. "I don't know yet. That's why we set up this deal—1,200 bricks, a run we'd never take without a reason. It'll test him."
Silco nodded, his eyes narrowing. "Exactly. You'll tail him, stay out of sight, and gather intel. Figure out where his loyalties lie, what he's aiming for. Then we decide what to do."
"Sounds good," Rane said, turning to leave. "See you in two weeks—if it all goes smooth."
Silco watched him go, then turned to his papers, a new project pulling his focus. The Red Tide trade was growing, but so were the risks. If he wasn't ready, the tide would drown him. He wasn't about to let that happen.
In Krakenport
In a modest house on Krakenport's edge, its walls weathered but sturdier than most, Anna and Vanessa sat with an elderly woman, Salina, who gazed out at the sea from her chair. The room was warm, filled with the scent of baked bread and the faint salt of the breeze.
"Grandma ," Anna said, her voice gentle but firm, "what did you do with the beli we gave you? The house looks the same—no new furniture, no repairs."
Salina's smile was soft, her eyes crinkling. "Oh, Anna, don't worry. The beli went to good use."
Vanessa frowned, leaning forward. "Grandma, don't tell me you gave it to the street kids again."
Salina chuckled, a warm, raspy sound. "Caught me. Those children need it more than I do. Seeing their smiles—that's worth more than any chair or paint."
Anna sighed, her crimson hair catching the light. "Grandma , that beli was for you. We're trying to repay you for everything you've done."
"Exactly," Vanessa added. "Giving it away could cause more trouble than good for those kids."
Salina's gaze softened, drifting to the window where a group of children split a loaf of bread, their laughter faint but clear. "My girls, you've got so much to learn. I found you two on that beach, crying, starving, alone. I had nothing but a shack and scraps, but I took you in. Was that wrong? No—it was right, and I'd do it again. Those kids out there, they're the same. I don't have room for them all, so I give what I can to help them survive."
Anna and Vanessa fell silent, their eyes following Salina's to the children. Salina's voice grew quieter, laced with wisdom. "Some people have everything and still want more because they do not feel satisfied. But for others, the smallest thing—a loaf, a coin—is a treasure. You girls have good hearts. Value what you have, and help when you can. I've got a few years left—what do I need beli for?"
Vanessa's eyes softened, but she pressed on. "Grandma , don't talk like that. That beli's for you to live better. We'll take care of you—make sure you hit 200 years."
Salina laughed, a bright, joyful sound. "Oh, Vanessa, you always make me smile. Let me be happy, girls. As long as you're safe, I'm at peace."
"I'll keep Vanessa out of trouble," Anna said, smirking as Vanessa pouted.
"I don't need protecting!" Vanessa protested. "I can handle myself, right, Grandma?"
Salina's smile widened, her heart full as she watched her girls bicker. The beli they gave her was theirs to give, but she'd always pass it on. Their safety, their smiles—that was her treasure. She'd saved them from the beach years ago, and though Krakenport's dangers worried her, they'd thrived. She could die content, knowing they were strong and safe.
End of the chapter.