The grand fleet moving together was far slower than the Golden Deer on its own.
It was only after another three days of sailing across the great eastern and western sea routes that the Privateer Fleet finally returned to the Tayman Archipelago.
During this period, many sailors whose faces had just become familiar to each other within the Privateer Fleet disappeared. But nobody noticed anything amiss. That's because each of their deaths had only one cause: they all perished from accidentally falling overboard while going to relieve themselves at night—simple accidents.
No one knew that Byron's Mad Hunt Legion was nearly at full strength with a hundred members.
When he activated the Sailing Logbook "Echoes of History," it was as if he had called up a complete historical record of everything or everyone from birth to present.
Those harboring ulterior motives, spies, and those with inherently chaotic evil natures serving as unstable factors were all naturally swept away.
Not just the die-hard followers of Hook, but even obscure individuals who had slipped in when he was recruiting sailors were thoroughly cleaned out.
Byron did have many gentler, more secure methods to purify his team.
However, he harbored far too many secrets, dared not take any risks, and had no time to waste.
After all, everyone in the fleet had already signed the Pirate's Ten Commandments. Commandment Nine: Traitors die.
Whether they died from falling overboard or not, Byron, as Captain, did not violate the commandments.
At the end of the day, they also died from accidents (suicide).
More importantly, according to Byron's principle of "immediate incentives," the routine task of dividing the loot had already been completed during these three days.
Even if a dozen teams had joined them in looting Traskopan City, Hightins' main goal was not gold and silver, but the Blood of Transformation.
The public booty from the Pioneer Navigation Colonization Company exceeded 580,000 Gold Pounds!
Of this, 65% was distributed among the nearly two thousand sailors and natives of Chichen Itza, averaging over 200 Gold Pounds per person.
That was the total income of an Old Continent farmer who had worked hard without eating or drinking for twenty years.
The Gold Coins dazzled. Faced with these minor "accidents," not only did no one question them, but everyone also sang praises for their Captain's fairness and generosity. Some, with darker thoughts, even felt it was for the best that a few dozen people had disappeared, believing it meant a larger share for themselves.
"All ships disembark and line up by warship unit," commanded Byron.
Under the lead of the Golden Deer, sixteen privateer ships entered the hastily expanded port, sequentially furling their sails and dropping anchor.
Subsequently, nearly two thousand people—Marines, natives of Chichen Itza City, and the sailors from the sixteen ships—lined up in an impressive formation as they disembarked at the newly renovated Georgetown Harbor.
Many couldn't help but crane their necks, eagerly looking towards the town on the shore.
"Is this going to be our new settlement?"
"It's so clean, and the scenery is nice too. If I retire in the future, settling down on this island might indeed be very pleasant."
"It's really different here."
"Most outsiders come to the Bantaan Archipelago simply to snatch what they can and leave, hardly ever thinking about developing the territory."
"The Kingdom of Castile is a typical example. After decades of developing the sugar industry by planting sugarcane on the various islands, many lands have been destroyed because of their merciless exploitation."
"Our Pioneer Navigation Colonization Company is different; it seems like we're intent on completely moving our Old Continent territory over here."
"I heard Captain Byron is already the Governor of the Grenville Earldom."
"The next step won't be to develop Yucatan Island and help that beautiful Countess establish an independent kingdom, will it?"
The pirates and natives all looked eagerly towards the town.
Several broad streets, paved with crushed stones and wide enough for four carriages to travel abreast, ran through the entire town based on the terrain, looking exceptionally clean and tidy.
Not only was there an absence of the feces and filth commonly seen elsewhere, but the roadsides were also lined with particularly lush teak trees.
The town's architectural layout was meticulous, featuring the Governor's Mansion, a fountain square, a bank, businesses, a market, row apartments, and garden villas. Further out, extending to the wharf district, were a lighthouse, large warehouses, bars, inns, blacksmith shops, wineries, and docks—everything one could imagine.
On another hillside outside the town, foundation work had also begun for an Earl's castle built to Edge Fortress standards.
Not just the original town residents, but also many native slaves from the tribes of the eastern islands were busy working here.
Once completed, it and the town would form a mutual defense.
The old sea dogs who had once attacked coastal cities knew that as long as enough cannons were placed in an Edge Fortress, guarded by a Fortress Expert of the "Not One Inch Given" Sequence, it would be impossible to breach from the outside—especially given that the Bantaan Archipelago's firepower, at most, consisted of Fourth-level Nominal Battleships.
Nearly two months had passed since Byron and Catherine took over this territory.
The once dilapidated town had long since been drastically transformed by a constant influx of funds and human resources.
The pirates of the Privateer Fleet, seeing this with their own eyes, grew even more confident in their faction's strength.
Magnificent, well-planned, and so much potential for wealth!
Not even the royal colony of Jamestown possessed more vitality than the Tayman Archipelago.
Why did those Kings and Great Nobles enjoy building wonders, crafting luxurious carriages, and purchasing luxuries?
These were all direct manifestations of a leader's strength.
To pirates, who were mostly illiterate and saw only wealth, this kind of straightforward stimulation was especially appealing.
Many pirates in the group looked at their new station and eagerly discussed everything about the Tayman Archipelago, buzzing with excitement.
When it came to internal affairs, Pirate General "Bill" was typically absent. Byron stood before everyone, coughed twice, and issued his command:
"Currently, the 'Bone Gnawing God' and 'The Bury-the-Dead Plague Doctor' are still roaming around, with smallpox virus everywhere. Even for us, a one-in-four death rate is no joke. Everyone in the Tayman Archipelago will rest and regroup for ten days. Mornings will be for drills, literacy lessons, and swordsmanship practice; the rest of the time is yours to command. But rest assured, Georgetown Harbor has an abundant supply of various wines and fine foods. And, as per the colonial joint-building agreement, the Newman Family's 'Song of the Nightingale' from the royal colony has already opened a branch in the harbor. Use this time to recuperate and build your strength, because we'll have plenty of tough fights ahead soon."
Byron didn't act like a hot-headed youth, arbitrarily banning all places of entertainment with a mere wave of his hand.
He knew that any idealized policy unsuited to the times would only be shattered against the shores by the torrent of the era.
Even the prostitutes wouldn't understand his actions, let alone appreciate them. It would cause unrest even within the privateer group—a purely thankless endeavor.
Of course, approving the establishment of the "Song of the Nightingale" had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he couldn't collect any taxes from... *those particular sheep*.
"HOORAH! Long live the Captain!"
They had been slogging through the jungle for the better part of a month. Having returned with a hefty sum, they were more than ready to carouse on land and spend money like water.
Soft beds, delicious food, sweet fresh beer, coupled with fragrant beauties—life was suddenly perfect.
"The Lighthouse Weekly says that all those Unlucky Ghosts who escaped from the Imperial City were struck with the 'living dead' curse. They can't even enjoy fine wine and women anymore; their lives are completely hopeless now."
"Yeah, lucky we didn't go. If we had to endure those worse-than-death days for just a few more, and someone offered to lift the living dead curse, many would be willing to sell their souls for it, don't you think?"
However, before they could even walk excitedly into the budding town of Georgetown with their moneybags, they collided head-on with a large group of officials from the Governor's Mansion led by Catherine, accompanied by staff from her various industries.
They carried colorful placards, delivering the most "heartfelt" service right to the group of pirates (soon-to-be fleeced sheep).
"Gentlemen, would you like to learn about Pioneer Bank's deposit services? We don't charge any custody fees here! The public funds of the Privateer Fleet, as well as the savings and personal funds of General Bill and Captain Byron, are all managed by our Treasurer and bank manager, Ms. Catherine, the 'Mithril Dragon'!"
Upon hearing their pitch, many pirates immediately surged forward.
"I was just about to go to the bank! The money I got from the last share-out was deposited in Pioneer Bank. The Captain's choice, in a word: safe."
"Safe, of course! Would we, as bankers, try to swindle you?"
"Such a good deal! I want to deposit too!"
Before long, the bank clerks conducting business on-site were completely surrounded by dazzling Gold Coins.
Of course, Mr. Byron would personally guarantee with his own Honor that there were absolutely no shills he had arranged among them. Absolutely none.
After they passed this "bank" station, their ordeal wasn't over.
A few more clerks stood by the roadside, waving roughly bound, poor-quality books and shouting:
"Limited-time discount! Internal training materials for the Captain 721 Fission Mode! Even if your own captain has limited energy to teach you, you can become self-taught! Not thirty or forty Gold Pounds, not twenty Gold Pounds, not even ten Gold Pounds! Just 998 Copper Furls! You heard right, the unit is Copper Furls! Get them while they last, first come, first served!"
(1 Gold Pound equals 20 Silver Narts; 1 Silver Nart equals 15 Copper Furls. One Copper Furl can buy a standard-weight loaf of Fur Bread.)
This shoddy book, with only a few pages, costs more than 3 Gold Pounds—equivalent to a farmer's salary for half a year! What a ripoff! Truly exorbitant!
But there were still a shocking number of buyers!
Who wouldn't want to be a Transcendent Captain?
Besides, hadn't they heard it was an internal, top-secret manual, available at a limited-time discount?
What if they missed this limited-time offer and the price went up later?
As the saying goes, one can skimp on food and drink, but never on education; this was a chance to change their Fate!
Next up was the blacksmith shop, which also dealt in munitions. A pile of wooden crates was set up on the dock.
"Gentlemen! To celebrate the Privateer Fleet returning laden with spoils yet again, our shop is now launching a weapons mystery box! One Gold Pound per draw! What you get is all up to luck—fine Swords, Crossbows, flintlock pistols... You might even find the research notes and advanced materials of an 'Artillery Expert'! To snag one is to profit! Limited to two hundred a day, while stocks last!"
Artillery specialists had always held technical positions, their share of the loot rivaling that of the officers.
Seeing this, the pirates swarmed forward once more.
"We also have joint discount coupons from the Old Captain's Tavern, the Song of the Nightingale, the Oakwood Inn... from seven or eight businesses in total! Enjoy group-buy discounts..."
"The Governor's Mansion is willing to make less money just to give us these benefits! They're really good people!"
"So conscientious! The businesses here are truly looking out for us!"
Regardless of whether their temperament was sly or ferocious, this bunch of unsophisticated, rural pirates all suffered from their lack of worldliness and education.
How could they possibly withstand such a marketing bombardment?
Before they even set foot in the town proper, the bulging moneybags at their waists had visibly shriveled.
It was as if they had been robbed by a gang of ferocious pirates.
Robbery? Please. Robbery isn't nearly this profitable!
The motto was clear: Make money in Taiman, spend it in Taiman—don't even think of taking a single penny home!
And despite all this, the pirates still felt compelled to sincerely say "Thank you" to Ms. Catherine, the 'Mithril Dragon,' who had provided all these "discounts."
It wasn't just them; Byron, clutching his own Snake Skin Bag tightly at his waist and trying to avoid a certain someone's gaze, couldn't escape smoothly either.
He was soon forcibly dragged into his sister's boudoir.