10.Rat Eyes

Only after the two had left did Rat-Eye shed his servile demeanor. He drank his sorrows away, reflecting on what had just happened, and the more he thought about it, the more he felt humiliated. They were merely two household servants; why had Rat-Eye acted so abjectly submissive? Flattery, ingratiation, sycophancy, and self-deprecation—his mastery of these tactics were not meant for the likes of servants. No, it must have been the joy of success that had momentarily unmanned him. Now calm, he must criticize such behavior. Thus, Rat-Eye began to speak insolently, cursing at the air with his alcohol-tainted breath for a long while.

"When I too become wealthy, see if you dare to be so arrogant?" he muttered to himself, feeling satisfied with his imagined self.

However, Rat-Eye was not a smart man. Although he occasionally played some conspiracies and tricks, they were far from true wisdom. He had always harbored an illusory and unrealistic idea—that with the "treasures" obtained through Klaw, he could join the ranks of the rich. How naive! He never really considered that if those two servants were right, the astute Lord Bard must have already seen through his traitorous actions. Yet, the merchant had taken no action, merely inquiring whether he had taken a rather inexplicable gold coin.

With a carriage full of items, who would care about a single gold coin?

Rat-Eye gazed longingly out the window, where the horse was peacefully eating fodder from the Jamaican mainland's plantations, undoubtedly of third-rate quality. Once he, Rat-Eye, made it big, he would magnanimously buy the horse some fine Florida fodder.

Still lost in his delusions of a bright future, after three cups of cheap liquor, he became tipsy, suddenly stood up, and with a swollen purse in hand, he shouted, "Barkeep, pour a glass of rum for everyone here, let them know of the generosity bestowed by Mr. Rat-Eye!"

Even when sober, the decision was ill-considered. Rat-Eye seemed to have forgotten that the Red Brick Tavern was a place for scheming, where people would devise swift plans for any new target with the spirit of a model worker. Buying drinks for everyone there was akin to inviting them to rob him.

The tavern's patrons raised their glasses and cheered for Rat-Eye, for business, for conspiracies. Rat-Eye stuffed the bottle into his mouth and, in one breath, downed half the bottle of swill, soon feeling the world spin around him. Satisfied, he decided to leave the foul-smelling place, clutching the remaining half-bottle of liquor as he staggered out of the tavern.

Eric must have been suspicious by then, still waiting in the warehouse,maybe he's already called in a couple of fence guys. but Rat-Eye had no intention of handing over the treasures to the guild. There were many excuses for failure, and Klow wouldn't show up anytime soon. He was destined to take the blame, and once Rat-Eye had worked things out within the guild, black would become white.

So, Rat-Eye drove the carriage slowly towards the open space by the dock, his own warehouse, a plot of land he'd obtained from dealing with the officials of Silver Port. As long as he kept an eye on the ugly and dirty little beggars, it was still a good place to hide things.

It was now late at night, and other parts of Saint Malo Port were already silent. Rat-Eye swayed on the carriage, sipping the bitter liquor, and unconsciously began to sing a popular ballad by the seaside:

"Brother, oh brother, lend me a shilling, and I'll pay you back with a pot of gold... "

He burped, interrupting the rhythm of the song, and forgot where he had sung to, so he started singing from the beginning again.

"Brother, oh brother, lend me a shilling, and I'll pay you back with a pot of gold. Brother, oh brother, give me a cup of wine, and I'll follow you for life..."

This was a familiar ballad among English highwaymen and minstrels, now brought to the West Indies across the ocean. The vision depicted in the lyrics was unfolding before Rat Eyes' eyes. He sang another verse, once again interrupted by a burp, so he drank up the remaining liquor in one go and casually threw the bottle behind him. He immediately cupped his hand behind his ear, listening for the crisp sound of the glass shattering.

Several seconds passed, and there was no sound.

He turned his head in doubt, his rat-like eyes carefully searching for the bottle, and when he saw what had happened, those small eyes widened with fear.

A tall dark figure stood behind the carriage, holding the empty bottle he had thrown.

"No more bottles, sir?" The figure said with a rugged voice, laughing.