Black Sail

Isis nibbled on the cream puff dessert, stunned and speechless as she watched the commotion unfold between two groups nearby, "Your big brother Liszt is sitting right here, hey."

"Aren’t you going to help? Those burly guys even called out your name."

After a reunion of eight years.

Isis was no longer the timorous and well-mannered noble girl. There were attendants guarding her side, not afraid of any trouble, but she puzzled over why Liszt had come to Aran without any formidable followers, even though his influence radiated to the inland, the center of the world in Aran.

Duguli, known for its arts and culture, was a place with excellent public order. Whenever there was a disturbance, there was no intention to join the turmoil; upon seeing homegrown Aran forces clash with those from the East Sea, everyone would avoid them and quickly pay their bills to leave.

And you couldn’t expect a restaurant to have much in the way of security. At most, the chopping block had some heft, but the other servers and attendants could only stand by and watch.

"Damn, have it your way, I’m heading back to my hometown in Beima anyway."

The East Sea guy, nicknamed "Edge Three," felt his blood boiling, ready to draw his sword and chop someone, set to decapitate the suit-wearing man in front of him.

And these tattooed pirates were also eager to fight, some with their eyes already showing veins of blood, intent on killing, hands already on the firearms tucked in their pockets.

The homegrown Aran powers had never seen such a display before.

"You son of a bitch, you want to start trouble, huh!"