Chapter 3: Ⅲ. Londen City
"You freeze your kidneys in the cold northern nights,
While I'm down south in the blazing sun, killing like grass under a scythe."
Liszt twisted the lyrics, hoping the stash in the Underground Bank's vault had grown; if they had three hundred Golden Dragons, they could live lavishly for at least half a year, indulging in the pleasures of Heaven Port.
"Please, stop with your hometown dialect."
Rein couldn't take it anymore, the distaste in his voice thick enough to make one cry, especially given Liszt's atrocious singing mixed with this unfamiliar language—it was downright asking for a beating.
"After this, do we lay low in Londen City for a while or head back to Heaven Port?"
Ox turned the conversation to serious matters. Everyone on board was under death's warrant, and the notoriety of the Black Sail Pirate Group preceded them; Liszt's bounty was especially hefty, making Ox sometimes consider offing him himself.
Who knows when the Bounty Hunters would catch their scent; the longer they linger, the more likely it would happen. It's safer at sea—the best move is to make for Heaven Port swiftly.
"Well..."
Liszt stroked his chin, deep in thought.
About twelve thousand nautical miles off Beima Duchy's East Coast lies an expansive island, known as Heaven Port, not the luckiest of names; another moniker it went by was "Pirate Republic."