Hürrem (Hayreddin) was a man of his word.
On the very day the first group of Moors arrived in Algiers, the entire Islamic world was stirred to fever pitch. Without regard for personal gain or loss, he risked defying the Christian world's representative—the Pope—to save the lives of his Muslim brethren threatened with slaughter.
Starting that autumn, nearly every time he set sail, Hürrem made a detour to Spain, returning to North Africa fully loaded with Moors fleeing massacre. Ten thousand, twenty thousand, thirty thousand… These seemingly unprofitable charitable acts brought Hürrem supreme honor and fame.
Stories of his heroic deeds and compassion spread along the North African coast—from Algiers to Tunis to Tripoli—and even reached the Ottoman capital of Constantinople far across the Black Sea. The Red Lion, once just a violent pirate who rose by force, was transformed into a revered national hero.
Countless admirers flocked to him, small pirate groups joined his ranks, and Hürrem's fleet quickly expanded to over thirty warships. The underground governor of Algiers officially became the pirate king of North Africa.
Of course, Nick never cared for these "intangible" things. She only noticed that her wages suddenly increased by ten gold coins, and as the captain of the assault squad second only to the leader, she could basically swagger through the streets of Algiers.
Eating well, drinking richly, sleeping on gold—heaven couldn't be better. The only headache was that nagging and troublesome Golden Retriever.
"Nick, words like 'old man,' 'bro,' 'damn it,' and 'go to hell' are far too coarse. As a lady, you absolutely cannot use such language."
"Nick, ladies drink light wines. Rum and spirits like that are only for uncouth people."
"Nick, you really should move out of Sera's house. You know her reputation is… I don't want your name to be associated with a woman of that particular profession."
"Nick, don't go out in the midday sun, you'll get tanned. Remember, skin color reveals your social class and origin."
"Nick, Nick, Nick, Nick, Nick…"
Knight Karl tirelessly and patiently lectured, trying to turn a true pirate tough guy into the refined lady he imagined.
"That's enough!!!" Nick yelled, finally losing her patience.
After returning to Algiers, recruiting new people kept her busy all the time—no chance to sell slaves. Autumn slipped by unnoticed; cotton, citrus, and grapes were all harvested. The fields were well manned, but the slave market was clearly quiet.
Nick figured selling Karl in the off-season would mean a loss. She decided to keep him over winter and sell him next spring when planting season came.
But this Golden Retriever showed no sign of self-awareness as "private property," nagging every day, more like a nagging wife than even Sera. Besides nagging about daily routines and speech, Karl kept urging her to quit the pirate gang—relentlessly.
"Quit? Who's going to support me?" Nick retorted sarcastically. She still needed him to feed her; how could he say such nonsense?
"I will support you. I will never let you starve." Karl straightened his back, his clear blue eyes shining with a determination Nick could not understand.
Mercenary, laborer, crewman, farmer—he had done all these over the years, searching for her while working, and although he couldn't get rich like a pirate, feeding an extra mouth was no problem. Karl looked at the bandages around Nick's shirt. She was supposed to be cared for all her life, not wandering about like this.
"…Forget it. I like supporting myself," Nick said, sprawling on the bed, comforted by the hardness of gold coins beneath her.
Karl was a good man. Though she couldn't understand why a knight who valued honor above all else would willingly serve as her servant—changing sheets, airing blankets, even kneeling naturally to tie her shoelaces when they came undone.
One person being good to another was something she could feel but not understand. In Nick's world, everything was transactional—give, then receive payment. Whether force, knowledge, life, or body, being a pirate was like farming: harvesting lives in exchange for gold. Her own life was just another bargaining chip.
If he desired anything, it wasn't obvious. Even when sleeping on the floor on the ship, Karl never slept in her room, instead spending the night outside the door under a single blanket, rain or shine. His gaze was pure and upright, never showing any manly or flirtatious intent, only occasional, inexplicable blushes.
No one gives without reason—except Assa.
Karl's values baffled her, and his spirit of giving without expecting anything in return made her uncomfortable. So Nick decisively decided to sell him off.
But…
The first time: sold to an Arab merchant bound for Egypt. Before dawn the next day, Karl returned to Sera's house and prepared Nick's breakfast.
The second time: sold to a mercenary captain from Sicily. Three days later, Karl, his wrists rubbed raw, came back calmly to clean the house.
The third time: sold to a slave trader bound for the New World to grow sugarcane. Ten days later, a visibly thinner Karl sat outside Nick's room like a sentinel. He had swum over twenty nautical miles back from the ship, his tattered clothes revealing sunburnt skin beneath.
In Sera's words, she had never seen such a stubborn retriever.
Nick was completely helpless.
Spending money to buy ointments and new clothes, she sulked on the table watching Karl eat. Even starving like this, he maintained that inexplicable "noble etiquette."
"A losing investment," Nick complained, pouting.
After selling him three times, her business reputation in Algiers hit rock bottom. Such suspected fraud would normally result in a guild lawsuit, but thanks to the Red Lion's prestige, the money was always returned and the matter closed. However, the fees paid to middlemen and the guild were never recovered.
Nick stared resentfully at Karl: "All one-year contracts, you're white, you'll be free after the term, and you'll even get land in the New World. I don't pay wages. Golden Retriever, are you out of your mind?"
Karl swallowed his food and smiled faintly. "Selling me is your freedom; running back is mine. Also, sit up straight, stop slouching like that."
Seeing Nick's shirt wrinkled and half-tucked, he frowned disapprovingly. "See? That's why I say Sera doesn't take good care of you. Clothing is a person's second self. Even in rags, the spirit must not slacken. Manners and conduct are completely reflected…"
"Ahhhh!!!" Nick held her head and wailed, ears ringing like golden flies buzzing. "I won't sell you anymore! Iron the shirt if you want, fold the socks if you want, do whatever you please! Just stop nagging!"
"No," Karl decisively refused. "I swore when I was knighted, to be honest and upright, to never tell lies! Even if you are my master, I must speak the truth when things are wrong!"
"Then I don't want you anymore. You're free, and we're even! I'll give you passage money back to Europe—there's a ship for Italy tonight…" Nick went mad, willing to throw him out and never see him again, no matter the cost.
"No," Karl refused again, tone so stubborn it sent chills down Nick's spine. "I swore to uphold ideals, be fearless! Courageous and loyal, with no shame before God!"
"So that means…" Nick barely understood, but a huge dread engulfed her—no escape.
"It means no matter what, I will stay by your side and never give up the right to advise and admonish you."
The knight stood, hand on the cross at his chest, eyes devout like swearing an oath.
"Nick, I will always follow you."
"…A ghost!!!!!!!"
Nick, normally unflappable, bolted out of her lover's house, clutching her head, running toward the white palace on the hill.
"Boss, help me!" Nick panted and spun around until she saw Hürrem in the corridor. He held a basin of meat scraps, playing with the lion.
Seeing Nick, the lion let out a low growl. The little fellow looked like easy prey but radiated a strange threat that confused the beast's judgment.
"Ham, sit." Hürrem commanded calmly. The lion immediately shut its mouth and obediently sat by his side. Stroking its mane, he laughed, "This little guy is much stronger than you. After raising you so long, I'd feel heartbroken if you were cut down so quickly."
Nick loosened her tightly gripped sickle, complaining, "Captain, why are your pets always so obedient?"
"Because I have methods. What, does the Golden Retriever not listen to you?" Hürrem smiled as he fed a piece of meat to the lion. "I heard you sold him several times, but he always comes back. Very loyal."
Nick despondently said, "It's not that he doesn't listen to me; he wants me to listen to him." She grabbed a dried fig from a silver box and popped it in her mouth. Nick thought the captain was better—always letting her take advantage. Not like the Golden Retriever—nagging and losing money.
"Some people are like that, imposing their views on others…" Hürrem paused, thinking the topic not worth pursuing, then asked, "How's the town lately?"
"How? Same as always. When spring comes, the market gets lively." Nick didn't know what the captain was getting at.
"You watch the tavern, no trouble?"
"No, how could there be?" Nick munched a few raisins. "Just drunks throwing chairs and smashing cups. Toss 'em out, no problem."
"Hmm…" Hürrem stroked his chin. "A few days ago the second mate of ship No. 3 got drunk and fought someone. It was a petty jealousy fight, but someone stabbed him in the back."
Nick nodded. "I know about that. It ended in chaos and they never found who did it."
"You probably don't know, but this morning they found the supervisor of ship No. 4 dead by the sea, his body swollen."
Nick was surprised. "Zamal is a homebody who rarely drinks outside. Not likely a fight, right?"
Hürrem tossed the meat to the lion and wiped his hands. "Multiple stab wounds, all in vital areas. Nick, you should go into town and be careful."
"This is drawing too much attention; someone's got their eye on us." Karl followed Nick closely. Such a place of trouble was definitely dangerous.
"Let them watch. If you mix in the mess, you gotta pay back." Nick didn't care, crunching roasted beans, wandering from one stall to another without buying anything.
"Captain Nick, look at these new fabrics! Let's make the gentleman a new outfit! Shimmering satin, Venetian handmade—matches his hair perfectly!"
"Captain Nick, a Persian dagger set with turquoise stones, matches the gentleman's eyes perfectly! Cost price, no profit!"
Nick's temple vein twitched; she turned and glared fiercely at Karl, "Do I look like a sucker?!"
Karl smiled helplessly, "No, I've never seen anyone more frugal than you."
"Really, isn't eating well and dressing warmly enough? You want to save gold to grow more gold? Satin and daggers—us Jews…" Nick paused, recalling her thrifty uncle Assa who never spared money buying her clothes. Ah, those were a long time ago…
Suddenly chaos erupted at the market. A familiar male voice shouted loudly: "Robbery! How dare you… I'm the Red Lion's ship doctor!!!"
Nick twisted and dashed into the crowd toward the gathering.
Pushing through, she saw several men with Arab headscarves clustered, stabbing downward with knives. The man lying on the ground was the handsome ship doctor, Victor.
He had gone out to purchase medicine—life-saving drugs always cost more than gold, and fake or substandard ones were rampant. After much picking, his medicine chest was filled but gold coins nearly gone. On his way back, a gang robbed his chest and knocked him down.
Victor thought no one in Algiers dared rob the Red Lion's goods, so he loudly announced his identity. The attackers, unflinching, immediately drew knives and slashed. Victor rolled to avoid vital blows but was stabbed in the shoulder.
With the market crowded thirty meters away, Nick couldn't catch up in time. Seeing Victor about to die under the blades, she felt behind her for the sickle blade, unscrewed it from the handle, and threw it like a boomerang.
A scream rang out as the attacker fell, knife and hand dropping. The others were shocked and immediately dropped their prey, disappearing into the crowd.
Nick glanced at Victor, saw the wound was not fatal, then shouted, "Karl, take care of the doctor!" and gave chase.