Chapter 573: Chapter 69: Kilian’s Countermeasure
On April 22, 1500, two Portuguese arrived in South America and discovered this vast continent. They erected a cross carved with the Portuguese Royal Family’s coat of arms, declaring the land belongs to Portugal.
Later, they discovered a type of strong and durable redwood here, and named it "Brazil".
In Portuguese, Brazil means redwood.
By the 17th century, Brazil had become a port of call for seafarers landing in South America. They departed from Bristol or Lisbon, crossed the Atlantic Ocean, and followed the route Columbus pioneered to South America, where they gained considerable profits.
As latecomers to the Age of Discovery, the Spaniards used the immense wealth plundered from the Inca Empire to engage in their own trade.
In this environment, almost every high-ranking Spanish Captain would purchase a piece of land at the Brazilian port, build a manor of his own, and then buy some black slaves from Guinea or Sambique to help manage the farm.
Kilian was no exception.
Unlike most sailors who took up the trade midway, Kilian grew up in the harbor.
His father was a shipyard worker, and he was a regular on ships. As soon as he could walk, he could raise sails. By his teens, Kilian embarked on his first voyage.
With an excellent sense of direction, keen insight, a flexible mind, and wolf-like greed, his wealth accumulated rapidly.
At twenty-two, Kilian owned his first ship and quickly made a name for himself at the port.
Kilian’s crew was a group of rough sailors whose minds were filled with only three things — money, alcohol, and women.
Compared to doing business, they preferred direct raiding. Just like when they grabbed the treasures of the Inca Empire, nothing was more satisfying than seeing piles of golden treasures.
Most of the time, the sailors couldn’t fully grasp Kilian’s intentions.
Of course, Kilian didn’t want his crew to understand his thoughts. As he aged, his intentions became increasingly hard to read from his face. Even sailors who had followed him for years might not know what he was thinking.
...
When the Captain of Lucia brought back the news to the Brazilian port, the island’s dry season was nearing its end.
Outside Kilian’s private residence, the sunlight had long been buried by the gradually accumulating gray-white clouds. There was no lightning, only the rumbling sound of thunder.
The redwood flooring lent a touch of warmth to the entire room. In the center of the luxurious carved furniture was a long bench, upon which Kilian sat.
Captain Fidel, who owned a three-masted armed merchant ship, was considered a figure anywhere, but standing in Kilian’s residence, he hung his head and bent his back, like a servant.
Recounting in detail what he had seen and heard after arriving at the Archipelago, Fidel carefully observed Kilian’s expression—
This prominent figure was no longer young. Although he usually paid attention to maintenance, years of life at sea had etched several deep wrinkles on his face, making him like an aging lion; old yet dignified.
Upon hearing that the camp had been swept clean without any signs of battle or the bodies of sailors, Kilian managed to remain calm.
However, when he learned that the buried treasure had also vanished, along with all the supplies in the camp, Kilian’s poker face finally showed a hint of anger.
He gestured for Fidel to stop narrating, then rose from the bench and walked to the window to open it.
The sky outside the residence grew even darker; a small creek surrounded the flat lawn, with dragonflies skimming the water’s surface.
The impending storm made the atmosphere around the port exceptionally oppressive; there was no croaking of frogs or chirping of birds, even the usually incessant insects fell silent, with only the thunder rumbling.
The air was hot and humid, making it hard to breathe, yet there wasn’t a breath of wind.
Kilian remained silent for a long time, seemingly trying hard to control his imminent outburst of emotion.
Finally, he turned around to face Fidel, sitting back on the bench.
With a slight frown, deep wrinkles appeared on Kilian’s forehead. He picked up a pipe from the table, filling it with fine tobacco that had fermented in an oak barrel, as he began to outline his plans.
...
The sailors were greatly frightened when they found the camp empty, yet they still discovered clues left by the Raiders—
Some patterns and words drawn with charcoal on the wooden walls of the cabins.
The meaning of the clues was easy to understand, summarized in one sentence: "The treasure was taken by us to the Big Island. If you have any issues, come to the Big Island to find me. I have made my location clear for you."
Had it not been for this clue, Kilian might have erupted in rage, cursing people vehemently and smashing things to vent his anger.
But it was precisely this provocative clue that allowed him to calm down for once.
What Kilian particularly couldn’t understand was why those raiders, who could have silently dug up his treasure and left, would leave such a clear clue.
"What do they want?"
Having accumulated enough wealth to enjoy for a lifetime and assets to enter the upper class, Kilian was no longer as arrogant and hot-headed as in his youth. He became much more cautious.
Upon hearing Fidel say the robbers had left clues, he promptly dismissed the thought of personally heading to the island—
Who knows what awaits him there; since they left such a clue, it shows they’re not afraid at all.
