Chapter 2297 - 1630: Damn!

Chapter 2297: Chapter 1630: Damn!

The night shrouded San Juan Bay in darkness. The deep black curtain stretched from the sky down to the sea. The surface of the sea was like a dark copper mirror, gently rippling with the moonlight of broken silver, also reflecting four tall-masted great ships.

The waves of the Caribbean Sea whispered against the rocky shore, making it hard for the sailors on the ship, burdened with their worries, to sleep. At present, the situation in the island camp, even the most foolish and reckless sailor could see clearly, could only end in retreat. The only difference was when to leave and what people and items to take.

"Almighty, bless us! May we return to the port of Seville smoothly, with treasures from Eastern India, with these cotton threads, pearls, spices, and feathers!"

The Castilla captains prayed, clutching the cross on their necks, towards the direction of the church without a cross. They had long filled the ship’s holds with goods looted from the natives, and tobacco was also classified as a spice, ready to be sold at the price of spices. Among the four large ships, the minimum number of sailors were maintained at all times to ensure the ability to set sail in an emergency. This was not actually Deputy Commander Antonio’s order, but the experienced captains would arrange it spontaneously.

These old sea rats were ferocious when needed, cunning when necessary, and most able to sniff out the scent of something amiss. The appearance of the barbarian warriors during the day was like an ominous sign, telling them an unsettling fact: the Cipangu Barbarians had appeared once again!

"Praise the Almighty! We are the devout Holy War Army, willing to fight for Your glory and to fight to the death against the Barbarians worshipping the Demon!"

On a slightly elevated slope, a group of veteran Castilla soldiers were warming themselves around a fire. Their faces were old and dark, the wrinkles carved by time and the elements as deep as knife scars. The flame reflected a cold light off the iron helmets, casting long, armor-clad, vigilant shadows. The veterans prayed spontaneously, while some started reminiscing in low voices about the markets of Seville, the Holy War of Granada, recalling those experiences of prosperity and the destruction of prosperity. More of the veterans just silently rubbed their chapped hands, looking towards the northeast sea horizon, as if their unreachable home of Castile was hidden there.

"Fritz, quickly change out of that outfit! Yes, change into our mercenary clothes! There are veterans keeping guard from afar, also on guard against us... Speak softly, don’t alarm these Royal Family’s hunting dogs!"

"...Albert! How long has it been, and how did you all end up like this? Like being tied at the door of a broken house, with no food or drink, still wary of the watchdog..."

"Shut up! Sit down, don’t say a word! I’ll go call the boss... and you all, don’t crowd over here, act as usual, don’t show any unusual behavior, just listen quietly! Don’t touch that grass basket! Inside are everyone’s shares of money, each has a part!!..."

Fritz changed into his mercenary outfit, squatted down at the base of the palisade, his eyes occasionally darting towards the grass basket. The basket, already covered with bundles of grass, had all those shiny, golden little trinkets covered tightly. Yet that flash of golden light stayed in the eyes of all the mercenaries who saw it, making them gulp repeatedly.

"Mark, Xi Ao’er! What are you doing? Huh? Touching my old clothes?"

Fritz turned his head, his eyelid twitched. He saw two old brothers squatting in another corner, watching the covered grass basket while fingering his just-removed clothes. The greedy, drooling expressions on their faces made the two tall German men, each over six feet, look like the craven and diminutive "kobolds" (goblins) from rural legends.

"Uh! We’re just looking... yeah! Looking... seeing if you’ve hidden any gold coins..."

"Mark, you got it wrong! I’ve got sharp eyes, those aren’t gold coins, they’re gold cakes! A big piece of it, who knows how many gold coins it’s worth!..."

"Phew! Gold cake? How many pieces?... How about we just take a look inside that grass basket? Just a look..."

Hearing this, the Shenluo mercenaries in seven or eight squads began to stir, Albert’s words like a fart, unable to suppress the mercenaries’ greed. Fortunately, Leader Reinhardt arrived just in time. He surveyed them menacingly with eyes like a lion’s, snorting coldly from his nose, and scolded in a low voice.

"Hmph! You bunch of fools! Sit tight and stand firm! Anyone who makes a mistake and harms the brothers... there will be no share for him of the spoils of war or the commission! Go! Watch the movements of those veterans... Fritz, you come over! Sit beside me and tell me everything carefully, starting from when you were captured!"

"Yes! Lion Head... ahem! Here’s how it was. After being captured, the red-haired Barbarians first took me back to the island’s center. That was the base of the Cipangu Barbarians and many local tribes allied to them. They interrogated me for a long time, gesticulating, drawing, and threatening with knives... In the end, they showed me several poxy Samurai and asked if I could save them..."

The flickering firelight illuminated Fritz’s face, casting shifting shadows. These changing shadows were like his dreams of the past month or two—both absurd and unreal, with too many unbelievable elements. Even if he told it truthfully, his comrades might find it hard to believe...

"Merciful Almighty! Then they stripped me and burned my clothes, washed me in a spring, scrubbing me over and over like livestock, then dressed me in new clothes... That’s when they put me on a fast ship! Strangely, it was flying the Portuguese flag, sailed by Portuguese sailors on a Caravel..."