CG Chapter 39: Death Voyage

Noticing the young lord's arrival on the deck, the crew couldn't help but show respect to him. After all, he was a member of the nobility, which allowed him to kill any of them without any consequences. In this society, even the lowest trash of nobility was considered higher in status than the highest peasant.

"Young lord, it's a pleasure to have you on deck. I hope that you are enjoying the refreshing sea breeze."

"Young lord, is there anything that this humble one can do to assist you?"

"Young lord, your aura shines as always."

The crew's questions and ass-kissing poured in one after the other as the crew sought to win Tom's favor and strengthen their connection to the esteemed House of Flameheart.

Tom replied respectfully to their questions. However, he still kept the aloofness that a member of nobility owed to carry, "Thank you for your support. However, you need not worry yourselves with me as you already have your hands full keeping this ship afloat."

Hearing his words of encouragement and appreciation for their effort, a couple of members of the crew couldn't help but show an inconcealable sense of pride as they smiled and laughed joyously.

Seeing their reactions, Tom thought, 'Low lives never change due to their lack of self-worth; once they feel that they have been truly acknowledged, they will follow you to the end of the earth.'

As Tom conversed with the crew, his watchful gaze roamed the ship, his attention fully absorbed by his surroundings. Unbeknownst to the men surrounding him, his focus zeroed in on the knight, his scrutiny thorough as he studied the man from head to toe.

With a final nod to the crew, Tom declared, "Feel free to carry on with your tasks. I'll be taking a walk around the ship."

Leaving the crew to their duties, he ventured off, his thoughts dwelling on whether he could take down the knight.

Tom walked gracefully to the other side of the ship, not showing any hint of killing intent on his face. He played the role of a killer perfectly. Unfortunately, all witnesses to his grand act will be victims of this drama.

Tom made his way to the other side of the ship as he walked, with grace in every step of his. His face lacked any noticeable intent for harm. He assumed the role of the executioner with flawless precision. Regrettably, those who would bear witness to his grand performance would ultimately find themselves trapped in the unfolding tragedy. That was if they even noticed what was coming.

'Crackle'

'Crackle'

The sound of the wood creaking vibrated through the hallway. Tom slowly made his way to the empty kitchen's storage room; he wanted to find any type of rodent pesticide. According to the small amount of helpful information in Edward's brain, Ships that sailed across the small islands had a problem of being invaded by a type of rodent species called the yorth.

Tom picked up the bottle of poison and started examining its contents.

'Noor, analyze the potency of this poison,' Tom ordered.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

[Unable to show precise data due to lack of information.]

[Cross analysis…]

[Results: The crew members will fall ill for a while upon ingestion.]

[Additional information: The poison lacks the potency to kill a human… Host is suggested to increase its strength before proceeding with the plan.]

'A small challenge, not bad.' Tom didn't let that affect him. Instead, he used it as fuel for his mind to wander through all the possible ways to increase the lethality of the poison.

Tom began to fumble around, introducing another form of poison to the concoction. This particular poison was well-known for being self-administered by individuals. He, of course, added the world's most infamous poison – alcohol – to enhance the absorption of the rat poison. With meticulous care, he integrated an array of spices from the ship's provisions, creating a deceptively enticing mixture.

As Tom continued to work in the dimly lit kitchen's storage room, he knew that time was of the essence. The room was filled with the scent of spices, and the bottles of poison lay before him. The kitchen crew might come here at any moment.

After adding the eleventh herb, Tom felt that the mixture was finally strong enough to kill most of the crew. He also didn't forget to add some aromatic herbs to mask the overall smell and taste of the poison. Although, he wondered whether it would have any effect on the knight if he consumed it.

'Well, I will see where things go after they swallow it.'

Tom made his way to the beer supply, recognizing that this could be the perfect opportunity to administer the enhanced poison to a larger group of the crew. He knew that the low-alcohol beer served as their primary source of hydration during the voyage.

The beer supply was organized into multiple wooden containers, with each container meant to be used for a day. This provided an opening for Tom to carry out his plan without drawing immediate suspicion.

Carefully, he opened one of the wooden containers, ensuring that he was not observed by the crew or the kitchen staff. With the small bottle of enhanced poison concealed in his hand, he added the content of the lethal concoction to the day's beer supply.

As he did this, a sinister sense of satisfaction washed over him, relishing in the smooth execution of his plan. The mere thought of obtaining a knight's training method filled him with a dark, exhilarating sense of excitement.

Once the poison was added to the beer, Tom securely closed the container, making sure it appeared untouched.

Tom then made his way back to the ship's deck, keeping his composure and pretending to engage in a casual conversation with a crew member. He would bide his time, waiting until all members of the crew ingested his poison before finishing them off.

.

.

.

The ship continued its voyage across the open sea, carrying with it the unknowing victims of Tom's elaborate plan. This play was about to reach its dark end.

Tom feigned the need for rest and retreated to his supposed sleeping quarters. There, he concealed himself within the ship's shadowy corners, observing the crew as they succumbed to slumber. They believed that fatigue and exhaustion had finally caught up to them.

However, what annoyed him was the fact that the person with the most robust resilience against the poison drank the least amount of it. The knight had in his hand a bottle of what looked like fermented tea, and while he drank some poisoned beer, Tom still felt that it wasn't enough to kill him.

Tom exercised unwavering patience, refusing to act hastily. He bided his time, waiting until it was the opportune moment for him to launch his attack.

In the middle of the night, the knight felt a presence in his room, which made him want to open his eyes. However, …

He found that his hands were chained to the bed while both of his legs were tied together.

"Who are you? Show yourself right now." He screamed, unable to restrain his anger.

"Shhh, shut your mouth. You should know your position." A figure made itself known from the shadows, holding a pendant and notebook.

"Yo- Young lord, what are you doing? I am sure there is a misunderstanding." The knight looked at Tom innocently as he questioned him. He tried to hide the anger he felt when he saw his things in the hand of Tom.

"I don't have time for your games. Firstly, I already know that you were sent by my brother to kill me." Tom started by revealing the cards slowly.

The knight initially harbored the desire to refute the accusations leveled against him. Yet, as he gazed upon Tom's unwavering confidence, his countenance gradually shifted from one of denial to an unsettling indifference.

"So what are you going to kill me? Then what? Do you really believe that you can survive against my party?" The knight wanted to laugh in mockery of Tom, but when the first laugh of his was about to come out...

Tom said four words that silenced the knight immediately and sent chills down his spine: "They are already dead."

"No, no way. There is no way that the trash of Flameheart would be able to take lord Timmothy's soldiers." The knight refused to believe that all of his comrades and companions who went through cold and fire with him were already dead. He might have been their superior, but he still considered them as part of his family.

Tom's only reason to speak to the knight for this long was to slowly break his mind and extract as much information as possible. In a wordless act, he tossed a sack filled with severed bloody heads onto the bed.

"You..." The knight struggled to articulate, his voice trapped by the horrifying scene before him. Overwhelmed and helpless, he yearned to shatter the concealed suicide bead beneath his molar, but his search yielded nothing.

"Maro, I will give you two options." Tom paused to emphasize what he was going to say next, "One, the happy ending. You die a hero as I ensure the safety of both your wife and daughter."

Before Tom could even utter the second option, Maro's face turned an alarming shade of crimson, as though it were on the brink of eruption. Every word that escaped his lips brimmed with an intense, bloodthirsty resolve. "Don't... You... Dare... Threaten... my family."

Tom ignored him as he looked down at him with indifference, "The second option will be you dying as the traitor of the house of Flameheart and the person that tried to kill its heir. This will naturally cause both of them to be captured, and believe me when I say I can make them scream as I break them slowly. In the end, the innocent face of your lily won't be so lily."