[Current Balance: 11,641,133,000 R]
---Previously---
He turned back to watch La Providencia. As the last line was cast off, Oldgate's voice boomed across the water, overriding the sounds of the busy harbor.
"Hoist the sails! Weigh anchor! Set course northwest! Delaware Bay awaits, ye dogs!"
The massive sails unfurled efficiently, catching the morning breeze. Slowly and majestically, the great galleon began to pull away from the pier, turning her bow towards the open sea.
Alaric watched her go, seeing Oldgate already back in conversation with his navigator, cigar smoke trailing behind him. A faint smile touched Alaric's lips.
'Alright,' he thought, turning away from the departing ship. He glanced around the busy Havana dock, then towards a shadowed alleyway nearby. 'Time to set up the distribution network before heading to Nassau.'
---Now---
He slipped into the narrow alley, ensuring no prying eyes were watching. Finding a secluded spot behind some stacked crates, he performed a single, swift hand sign.
Poof! Poof! Poof! Poof!
Four identical copies of himself materialized in puffs of smoke, looking around with varying degrees of curiosity and mischief.
"Yo, Bossu!" Clone #1 grinned, giving a thumbs-up.
"Sup," Clone #2 offered a lazy wave.
"Ready for duty!" Clone #3 snapped a mock salute.
"About time," Clone #4 grumbled, adjusting his collar.
Alaric sweatdropped.
'Okay, them having distinct personalities based on fragmented aspects of my own is kinda quirky... but damn, the memories they bring back are useful.' He shook his head. 'Right, time to buff these guys up.'
He focused, weaving intricate lines of chakra in the air. Glowing ink began to form, transforming into complex Fuinjutsu arrays that floated around the clones.
With precise movements, he guided the seals, inscribing them directly onto the clones' forms. One seal anchored their existence, making them far more durable and long-lasting than the original shadow clone jutsu. Another established a permanent, unbreakable link across vast distances, ensuring they wouldn't just puff out from existence from being far. A third was a more complex array, it allowed them to passively draw in natural energy from their surroundings and convert it into usable chakra, making them self-sufficient. The amount of chakra they receive wasn't much to make them perform multiple jutsu, but it was enough to keep them alive.
Next, Alaric focused on his own arm, then extended his will towards the clones. More glowing ink appeared, forming identical, intricate tattoo patterns on each of their forearms… super advanced storage seals, linked dimensionally.
'I've made sure the storage in their tattoos is a vast space... should hold more than enough product,' he confirmed internally, feeling the connection between his own master seal and the clones' copies.
With the preparations complete, he accessed the System again.
[Buy: Premium Cigar (Pack) - 10 R]
[Quantity: 4,000,000x]
[Buy: Sage's Herbal Infusion Tea Bags (10 pcs per pack) - 5 R]
[Quantity: 4,000,000x]
[Buy: Uchiha Fire & Spice Hot Sauce - 1 R]
[Quantity: 4,000,000x]
[Buy: Kunoichi Beauty Mask (5pcs per pack) - 3.6 R]
[Quantity: 40,000,000x]
[Buy: Hyūga Clan Secret Ointment - 2 R]
[Quantity: 8,000,000x]
[Total Deduction: - 224,000,000 R]
[Current Balance: 11,417,133,000 R]
An unimaginable volume of goods instantly transferred from the System's Interface into the linked storage dimensions sealed within the clones' tattoos. They barely blinked, though Clone #2 whistled softly.
"Alright, listen up," Alaric addressed his copies, his tone was serious. "You four have one primary job... sell every last bit of this merchandise."
The clones nodded as their expressions turned attentive.
"Brand name is 'Celestial'," Alaric continued. "Celestial Cigars, £5 a pack. Celestial Tea, £5 a pack. Celestial Hot Sauce, 3 shillings a bottle. Celestial Beauty Masks, 10 shillings per mask. Celestial Salve, £25 a vial."
"Your territories are Bristol, London, Lisbon, and Rome. One city each. Use Hiraishin to travel to your respective territories."
He accessed the System again, withdrawing startup funds in the appropriate currencies.
[Money Withdrawal: 50,000 R]
[Money Withdrawal: 5000 scudi] (50,000 R)
[Money Withdrawal: £1562 10s ] (50,000 R)
[Money Withdrawal: £1562 10s.] (50,000 R)
[Total Deduction: 200,000 R]
[Current Balance: 11,416,933,000 R]
"Here's your operating capital," Alaric said, directing the withdrawn funds into each clone's storage seal. "Rent warehouses, hire local agents if you need to, live comfortably... I don't care how you spend it, just move the product efficiently and discreetly. Goal is to sell out as fast as possible."
"Don't worry, Bossu!" Clone #1 grinned confidently.
"We'll have this stuff sold by sundown!" Clone #3 boasted.
"Ha! In your dreams, numbskull!" Clone #4 shot back.
"Honestly, can't you lot be serious for one minute?" Clone #2 sighed, rubbing his temples.
'They're definitely not exact copies of me...' Alaric resisted the urge to facepalm. He cleared his throat. "Right. One last thing. Use Henge. Disguise yourselves. Merchants, travelers, whatever fits. Under no circumstances is my name or the Kenway name to be directly associated with these sales beyond the 'Celestial' brand. Understood?"
All four clones nodded seriously this time. "Got it, Boss."
"Good." Alaric gave a final nod. "Get to it."
In four distinct flashes of platinum-gold light, the clones vanished, teleporting instantly via Hiraishin to their assigned cities across Europe.
Alaric stood alone in the quiet alley for a moment, the faint smell of ozone lingering in the air. 'I should earn more than £440 million or 14 billion Reales... WAHAHAHAHAHA'
'Good,' he thought, a satisfied smirk returning. 'Phase two initiated. Now...'
He closed his eyes, focusing his chakra, picturing the unique energy signature of the Hiraishin marker he'd left on Blackbeard's ship deck.
'Time to pay a visit to Nassau.'
With another flicker of displaced air, Alaric vanished from the alleyway of Havana.
---(Nassau, 12PM)---
The air was thick and heavy with the smell of salt, stale rum, unwashed bodies, and tropical decay.
Nassau.
The infamous Republic of Pirates.
It wasn't much to look at from Alaric's sudden arrival point at the deck of the Sea Dog's Bite. The brig was anchored a few dozen meters offshore, among a chaotic collection of other sloops, brigs, and captured merchant vessels of varying sizes.
The actual settlement on the island was a ramshackle collection of wooden buildings clustered around a dilapidated fort, spilling onto a strip of white sand beach.
Alaric appeared silently near the main mast, right where he'd left the Hiraishin marker days earlier. Several of Blackbeard's crew were lounging on the deck, mending sails, sharpening blades, or simply dozing in the shade of the furled mainsail. They were laughing about something, a crude joke most likely, judging by the raucous guffaws.
"...and then the governor says, 'But that's my prize pig!' And Harkam replies..." one pirate was saying, mid-chuckle.
"Do you fellows wanna hear a joke?"
The voice, calm and unexpected, cut through their laughter like a cold knife. Every pirate froze. Slowly, hesitantly, they turned their heads towards the sound.
Their eyes widened. Blood drained from their faces. Standing there, casually leaning against the mast as if he'd been there all along, was the platinum-blonde man in the crimson coat. The one who'd killed Scarface Finn with a single slap. The one who'd jumped between ships like a damned bird.
Silence descended, making it thick and suffocating. No one dared move, let alone speak. They just stared, forgetting their weapons, their minds struggling to comprehend how he'd gotten there.
Alaric waited patiently with an eyebrow slightly raised. Seeing the utter paralysis his appearance had caused, he let out a soft chuckle.
"Relax, boys," he said, his voice amiable. "Not here to kill any of you today. Unless you give me a reason, of course."
A collective shaky exhale went through the group. Fear warred with confusion on their faces. Finally, one pirate, a burly man with more tattoos than teeth, managed to find his voice, though it trembled slightly. "W-What... What the bloody hell d'ye want now?"
"Just passing through," Alaric replied smoothly, pushing himself off the mast. "Needed a ride closer to shore. Thanks for the... temporary berth."
He walked casually towards the bowsprit, ignoring the wary eyes tracking his every move. Reaching the very tip, he gave the crew a final, cheerful wave. "Enjoy the rest of your day, gentlemen."
Then, he simply leaped, soaring through the air effortlessly before landing silently on the soft white sand of the Nassau beach. He brushed himself off, glanced left and right at the chaotic pirate haven, and smirked.
'So this is Nassau... Looks pirate-y.'
---Old Avery Tavern---
Edward Thatch, known as Blackbeard, slammed his empty mug down on the rough-hewn table, demanding another ale. Across from him sat Benjamin Hornigold, looking thoughtful as usual, while the enigmatic James Kidd leaned against a nearby support beam, arms crossed.
"...and he just slapped Finn, and BAM!" Blackbeard was saying, recounting the encounter from days ago for the third time, still clearly agitated by it. "One slap, mind you! Not a blade drawn, not a pistol fired. Just... crack! And Finn drops dead as a mackerel. Never seen the like."
Hornigold took a slow sip of his own ale. "A Kenway, you say? Cousin to young Edward?" He stroked his beard. "Strange. Edward never mentioned family with... such abilities."
"Abilities?" Kidd scoffed quietly from the shadows. "Sounds like luck, or perhaps Finn was weaker than he looked."
"Luck?" Blackbeard rounded on Kidd, his eyes flashing. "That weren't luck, boyo! That was... somethin' else. Cold. Fast. Like lookin' at Death wearin' a fancy coat." He shuddered involuntarily. "And the way he knew things... asked about Edward right off..."
"So, this cousin," Hornigold interjected calmly, cutting off Blackbeard's rant. "What did he look like? What was his name?"
"Tall," Blackbeard grunted. "Tall as me, maybe taller. Platinum blond hair, blue eyes that look right through ye. Dressed like a bloody lord, crimson coat and all. Name was..." Blackbeard paused, trying to recall the exact name the unsettling man had given.
"...Alaric Kenway."
The new voice, cool and carrying easily over the tavern's low murmur, came from the entranceway behind them.
Every head in the tavern swiveled. Patrons froze mid-drink as the conversations died. Standing there, leaning casually against the railing at the top of the short stairs leading into the open-air tavern, was the very man Blackbeard had just described.
Long platinum-blonde hair ruffled slightly by the breeze, immaculate crimson coat, a lit cigar held loosely between his fingers.
"Y-You!" Thatch sputtered, his eyes widening in disbelief and a healthy dose of fear. He instinctively reached for a pistol, then stopped himself, remembering how little good it had done last time.
Hornigold and Kidd exchanged surprised glances, then turned their full attention to the newcomer.
"...How?" Thatch finally managed to ask.
"How did I get here?" Alaric asked innocently while raised an eyebrow, taking a slow drag from his cigar. "Oh, you know... swam. All the way from Havana. Took a while." He glanced around the tavern. "Your men on the Sea Dog's Bite weren't very talkative when I arrived just now, bit rude actually, so I decided to come ashore for some sightseeing. Funny how I ended up right here, eh?"
The lie was so blatant, so absurd, that it was hanging in the air, thick with unspoken implications of impossible speed or unnatural travel.
Hornigold smirked, appreciating the audacity even as he sized Alaric up. Kidd remained impassive, though his(her) eyes narrowed slightly.
"Alaric Kenway, is it?" Hornigold said smoothly, breaking the silence. He gestured to the stool beside Blackbeard. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Benjamin Hornigold. Welcome to Nassau, the Republic of Pirates."
Alaric gave a slight nod of acknowledgement, his gaze flicking briefly to Hornigold before settling on Kidd. "And you?"
The figure leaning against the post pushed themselves off, meeting Alaric's gaze evenly.
"James Kidd," came the reply, the voice was deliberately rough, though Alaric easily saw through the disguise, recognizing the face from the game's loading screens and historical portraits.
"James Kidd?" Alaric repeated, letting a small smirk play on his lips as his eyes drifted pointedly down to the distinctive red sash tied around Kidd's waist. "That's a... wonderful red sash you've got there, pirate."
Kidd's eyes widened almost imperceptibly as a flicker of alarm crossing their features before being quickly masked. 'He knows?' the thought flashed through Mary Read's mind. 'Or is it just a coincidence? A lucky guess?'
Alaric chuckled softly at the reaction, then pushed himself off the railing, strolling casually towards their table. He stopped a meter or so away, taking another long drag from his cigar before meeting their collective gaze.
"Right, introductions aside," he said, his tone becoming more businesslike. "My name is Alaric Jonathan Kenway. I'm looking for my cousin, Edward Kenway. I was told he might be found associating with the likes of you lot."
"…so, ye seek young Edward, do ye?" Hornigold leaned back, steepling his fingers. "Information ain't free in Nassau, friend. Especially information about a promising lad like Kenway. It'll cost ye."
'Even though I'm a cousin? Bruh…' Alaric paused, raising an eyebrow as if considering it. Then he chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Of course. Nothing worthwhile ever is, is it?"
He walked past them towards the bar counter, ignoring the wary eyes that followed him. He pulled a handful of coins from his coat pocket and slammed them down on the sticky counter, making the nearby mugs rattle.
[Money Withdrawal: 50 R]
[Current Balance: 11,416,932,950 R]
"Hey!" Alaric called to the grimy-looking tavern keeper polishing a mug behind the bar. "Your best meal, whatever it is. And make it quick, I'm starving."
The tavern keeper froze, staring at the pile of silver Reales… easily enough to buy food for a week, let alone one meal. Hornigold, Thatch, and Kidd all widened their eyes. Fifty Reales for a plate of stew and stale bread? This wasn't payment; it was a statement. And a clear signal that this 'Alaric Kenway' wanted more than just food.
The tavern keeper glanced nervously towards the three pirate captains, who were now watching him intently. He swallowed hard.
"Ah... I... I cannot..." he stammered, clearly intimidated.
Alaric sighed dramatically, then reached into his pocket again, pulling out another, much larger handful of coins and letting them cascade onto the counter with a loud clatter.
[Money Withdrawal: 150 R]
[Current Balance: 11,416,932,800 R]
"Two hundred Reales," Alaric said flatly. "For the meal, and for telling me where I can find Abel Bramah's ship, the Jacobite. The one my cousin Edward signed onto."
The effect was immediate. Greed and fear warred on the tavern keeper's face, and greed won. He snatched up the coins, his eyes darting nervously towards the pirate captains.
"The Jacobite..." he whispered quickly, leaning closer to Alaric. "Aye, Kenway signed on with Bramah. Heard they sailed south a few days back... talk was they were headin' towards Jamaica, lookin' to intercept a Spanish sugar shipment near Port Royal."
The tavern keeper wiped his sweaty hands on his apron, avoiding the furious glares now directed at him from Hornigold and Thatch.
"Jamaica, huh? That's interesting..." Alaric nodded, satisfied. "Now, about that meal..."
The tavern keeper scurried off towards the back kitchen. Hornigold and Thatch exchanged dark looks, clearly furious at the tavern keeper's loose lips but wary of confronting the man who'd just bought the information so casually. Kidd watched Alaric with narrowed, analytical eyes.
'Who the hell is this man?' Blackbeard thought, gripping his mug tightly. 'Throws coin around like water, kills a man with a slap, appears out of thin air...'
'A man looking for Edward Kenway...' Kidd mused silently. 'Dressed like nobility, and moves with no vigilance like there's not a problem with the world. Wealthy and powerful… is he truly a cousin of Kenway? Is he connected to the Assassins? Templars?'
They were all thinking variations of the same thing: This Alaric Kenway was dangerous, unpredictable, and clearly operating on a level far beyond them. He might be alone but confronting him felt like poking a sleeping kraken.
"You fellas want a smoke?" Alaric asked cheerfully, turning back towards their table and offering the pack of premium cigars he'd seemingly pulled from nowhere.
Hornigold, ever the opportunist, smirked and took one. "Don't mind if I do, Kenway. Always appreciate a fine tobacco."
Thatch hesitated, then grunted and took one as well, stuffing it into his coat pocket for later. Kidd simply shook his head, arms still crossed, observing Alaric intently.
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