The Heir Who Wouldn’t Drown
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 24: Every Copper Counts
Like the Northern Bayfolk, those forefathers of piracy who had plundered the entire continent, the Remites had left an indelible mark on continental history.
The Northern Bayfolk’s ethnic Maxim was “No Wrong Goes Unanswered.”
The Remites’ was “Every Coin Counts.”
Most Remites were silver-tongued, greedy, and coldhearted. Without a country of their own, they roamed the continent, turning up everywhere from the East Coast to the West Coast.
Yet they were an immensely powerful people. They had not only founded the Golden Coin Sequence but also built vast, closely united commercial groups.
Ordinary citizens generally spent their earnings in the country where they lived. These people without a homeland, however, made enormous fortunes in one country only to transfer most of the wealth elsewhere, continually bleeding their hosts dry.
Naturally, no royal house cared for people who clung to its country like a parasitic tumor. Beside them, even the Northern Bayfolk, who merely robbed people outright, began to look positively appealing.
And the already formidable Remites had an even more powerful patron.
According to their own proclamations, their ancestor was none other than [the Creator], the sole god worshipped on the Old Continent.
The Church had never explicitly endorsed their claim about the Creator. It had never denied it, either.
Only a handful of people in the upper echelons knew that every year, the Church’s central cathedral received enormous religious donations from the major Remite commercial groups.
They had taken the Golden Coin Sequence’s Maxim, “When Money Speaks, Truth Falls Silent,” to its fullest expression.
In short, however much people disliked the Remites, they could neither get rid of them nor, very often, avoid holding their noses and working with them. Some kings even had to borrow from them to wage war.
Oswald Redgaze had plainly suffered at their hands before.
Turning to his first mate, Bram, he gave a quiet order. “I’m leaving this to you. Make sure you raise enough to repair Maneater Shark.”
Then he returned to the captain’s cabin without looking back.
He wanted nothing to do with Remites. More importantly, he feared he might lose control and smash the man’s head open, bringing Iron Anchor Bay’s enforcement patrol down on them.
“Aye, Captain!”
Apart from Oswald, First Mate Bram Marrowcrack was the longest-serving pirate aboard Maneater Shark. Logistics and selling stolen goods were already among his duties. He was no stranger to Remite merchants and knew exactly how difficult they could be.
There was little he could do. Ever since Whalescourge, the Pirate King of the North Sea, had disappeared, Iron Anchor Bay had operated under a captains’ council system.
Once the most powerful pirate captains had divided up the interests among themselves, every last drop of profit generated here already had an owner.
The money came in even faster than it did from plunder.
Now that they had tied up at this berth, refusing to sell to Golden Palm Trading Company would probably mean no other black-market merchant would buy their spoils. They could postpone the sale and rent a warehouse in the port instead, but the bill would be enough to make a man question his life choices.
Bram could only accept Oswald’s order with a bitter expression and brace himself for what followed.
Maneater Shark might have a habit of spreading terror through slaughter, but we’re nothing in the eyes of the real pirate lords. We don’t bring in a steady enough stream of prizes for the big trading companies to give us special treatment and assign someone to handle our business.
This time, we’re stuck dealing with these carrion vultures.
He could only pray that selling the cargo stolen from Pelican would bring in enough to repair the ship.
Otherwise, the next crew member to disappear would probably be him.
“Heave ho! Heave ho...”
At his command, the sailors began chanting as they used a yard rigged as a crane to hoist the cargo out of the hold.
The Remite merchant who called himself Basil came onto Maneater Shark’s deck with his assistant and smilingly appraised each item.
Everyone knew the going rates for bulk goods such as textiles and ironware. Even a buyer trying to drive down the price could only go so far.
The real opportunities for cheating lay in the most varied and valuable goods: works of art, jewelry, and all the assorted luxuries of the nobility.
Few pirates could even read. How much appreciation of art could anyone expect from them?
Whatever the black-market merchant said was what they had to accept.
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