Reborn As a Pirate - Chapter 126

Chapter 126: Libra Holy Church!
Santos, a small nation perched on a remote island, belies its small size with formidable national strength.

“My lord, behold the pride of Santos,” proclaimed Jora, a spirited boy of about twelve, clad in weathered linen attire. Leading Ryan through the city’s bustling streets, he pointed with gusto towards a towering structure ahead. “That there’s our landmark, the Tower of Libra. It’s the heart of our nation’s faith, the Holy Church of Libra.”

Ryan nodded thoughtfully, absorbing Jora’s proud introduction to the hundred-meter-tall cathedral that dominated the island’s skyline. Jora, a street-smart lad eking out a living in the outskirts of Santos City, supplemented his income by guiding visitors like Ryan, offering insights into the city’s secrets and customs.

Later that evening, after settling into a rocky seaside cave with two women who had accompanied him, Ryan bid them farewell and ventured alone into the city proper, the only city on the island, Santos. The guards, disinterested in scrutinizing mainland wanted posters, waved him through, underscoring the island’s detachment from broader jurisdictions.

Eager to grasp the city’s dynamics, Ryan engaged a young guide to orient himself.

“Santos is quite unique,” the guide explained, as they navigated winding streets. “Here, it’s not just about kingship but also theocracy. The Libra Holy Church rules as the voice of the divine.”

Ryan, a stranger to this place and its customs, found the concept intriguing. Back in his world, religious institutions had faded with the ages, relics of bygone eras. The Libra Church, however, thrived here, its teachings rooted in a simple yet profound principle: “Everything in balance, everything measured.”

“In Santos,” the guide continued, “even the most notorious pirates can find redemption through the ‘sacred scale.’ They pay their dues, and the Church offers absolution.”

Ryan marveled at the city’s unconventional approach, where even the intangible could be quantified and resolved. It was a stark contrast to the subdued religious practices he had known.

As night settled over Santos, Ryan pondered the implications of this unique blend of faith and governance, eager to uncover more about Santos and its enigmatic Tower of Libra.

“The sacred scale measures everything” wasn’t just a phrase in Santos, it was a way of life that drove the city’s bustling economy, fueled by pirates seeking sanctuary in its prosperous harbors.

Ryan couldn’t help but mull over the irony of it all. A religious institution thriving on financial exchanges seemed more a business consortium than a sanctuary of faith. Yet, he kept his thoughts to himself, understanding that every society had its own complexities and compromises.

His immediate goal was clear: to visit the “Black Cat Divination House” in the outer city and then find a suitable boat at the shipyard, followed by a visit to the renowned blacksmith’s shop.

Freni, a pirate who abided by her own code of ethics, saw more value in appropriating ships than purchasing them outright. For her, a small boat was the key to her next venture.

“I’ve heard of a place called the ‘Black Cat Fortune Telling House’ in the outer city. Lead the way,” Ryan instructed Jorah, the knowledgeable young guide guiding him through the labyrinthine streets.

Jorah hesitated at Ryan’s request, surprise flickering across his features. “Black Cat Fortune Telling House… Sir, I advise against it.”

He proceeded to explain, “Just recently, ‘Sister Meloye,’ the owner of that establishment, was apprehended by the Libra Knights. Anything involving them is trouble.”

Ryan frowned at the mention of the Libra Knights. “Why would they take her?”

Jorah’s expression turned grim. “The Knights are the enforcers of the Libra Holy Church, only intervening in serious matters. No one taken by them has ever returned.”

“Sister Meloye helped street kids like me,” Jorah added wistfully. “She’s kind-hearted, but crossing the Church isn’t wise.”

Despite Jorah’s earnest warnings, Ryan remained resolute. “Take me there.”

Jorah sighed deeply, clearly conflicted. “You’ve been warned, sir. I’ll guide you close, but I can’t guarantee more.”

“That’s all I ask,” Ryan replied with a nod.

Reluctantly, Jorah led Ryan through narrow alleys and shadowed corners toward the outskirts where the Black Cat Divination House stood, its once inviting facade now tinged with a foreboding air.

After a short walk, Jorah halted and pointed towards a small wooden house adorned with a cat’s paw print on its plaque. “Sir, look over there. That’s the ‘Black Cat Divination House’.”

Ryan followed Jorah’s gesture and peered at the unassuming structure nestled among its neighbors. Without Jorah’s guidance, he would have easily missed it altogether, its humble facade belying its mystical purpose.

“Thank you,” Ryan murmured, pressing a handful of coins into Jorah’s palm. The boy hastily pocketed the payment and darted away, casting nervous glances back at Ryan, wary of any potential trouble.

As the boy disappeared into the bustling street, Ryan scanned the area, ensuring there were no magical disturbances before slipping into the shadows beneath the eaves. With cautious steps, he approached the Black Cat Divination House.

This branch of the Witch Association seemed an unlikely target for trouble. Witches were formidable practitioners, far beyond the ordinary. Ryan doubted the ease with which someone like “Melloye” could be taken by the Libra Knights.

Determined to verify the situation himself, Ryan skulked around the building’s perimeter, his senses on high alert. Retreat was always an option if things turned sour, though he regretted losing a potential source of information.

Soon, Ryan found himself at the rear of the Black Cat Divination House. Just as he prepared to climb through a window, a sudden intuition made him glance towards a shadowed corner.

There, nestled in the grassy shade, was a small black cat, its eyes fixed on him with unwavering intensity.

“Meow~”

With a soft mew, the cat turned and scampered off. Ryan’s curiosity piqued, he swiftly pursued the feline.

After a brief chase through narrow alleys, Ryan halted in a dim, neglected passageway. Before him, the little black cat gracefully raised its paw and licked it clean.

In an instant, a dagger pressed coldly against Ryan’s throat, accompanied by a voice as frigid as the blade itself.

“Who are you? And why is your magic aura so strong?”