As they drew nearer to Saintin Island, the temperature climbed sharply—average daytime heat soared past 35°C.
A massive triple-masted warship bearing a snarling wolf-head prow sliced through the waves. From a distance, the island ahead looked swallowed by a vast, sun-scorched desert. Heat shimmered in mirage-like waves, distorting the air even out at sea. Nestled along the coast, however, a bustling oasis city came into view—Port Nanohana.
"We're finally here! Now that's what I call a good day!" Arlan stretched out with a wide grin on his face as he stood on deck, the sun beating down on his shoulders.
"Seriously though, who the hell named this place Port Nanohana? What kind of sick sense of humor is that?" Oliver rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed.
"You idiot," Dimitri snapped, dark lines forming on his forehead. "Is this your first day on the Grand Line? Islands here have all sorts of weird names—Cake Island, Thunder Island, Cigar Island… You clearly skipped geography class."
Port Nanohana was one of Alabasta's most important harbor cities—roughly 40% of the kingdom's imports came through this port. Yet, because of the country's desert terrain, it had always been a relatively standard coastal city. Outside of the local garrison and the port master, no nobles or higher officials ever stationed themselves here.
In the main storyline, Port Nanohana was exotic in flavor but hardly bustling. Years of drought and the subsequent rebellion in Alabasta had scared off most merchants. But this was eight years before those events. At this time, Alabasta hadn't yet suffered its great drought, and the civil war was still far in the future. Rain was scarce, but trade flourished.
Now, Port Nanohana thrived. With Alabasta being a massive kingdom—rich in territory and population—merchants flocked here to do business.
By late afternoon, the Chris reached the docks. The port was crowded with ships, mostly merchant vessels. In the quieter, more remote corners of the harbor, a few pirate ships lay anchored—including theirs. The Chris Pirates kept to themselves, mooring their warship away from the main thoroughfare.
A few other pirate crews eyed the newcomers warily, their hands hovering near weapons. But Aeridar and the others paid them no mind. They left a security detail of several dozen to guard the ship, while the rest followed Aeridar into the port.
"Wait… that's the Golden Ring—Aeridar. Bounty: 80 million Berries."
"And that's the Slayer—Oliver, and the Blue-Haired—Arlan. Plus the other five lieutenants… all wanted criminals."
"Shh! Keep it down. These guys took down a Marine Rear Admiral. Report it to the Vice Admiral—quietly!"
"Yeah, yeah, let's go. Just knowing they're here is enough. Don't let them catch us snooping."
Around the corner of a nearby building, several men in gray cloaks stared in shock before slipping away quietly. They weaved through backstreets and alleys until they reached an unremarkable building and stepped inside.
"Bring the Den Den Mushi! The Chris Pirates just docked—get Vice Admiral Syrons on the line!" barked one of the tall, thin men urgently.
"The Chris Pirates? Where's the Den Den Mushi?! Move!" a short-sleeved man with jet-black hair shouted at the operatives nearby.
Moments later, a bluish Den Den Mushi was rushed out from one of the inner rooms. The thin man quickly dialed in.
Out at sea, south of Saintin Island, seven or eight Marine warships sat anchored in a hidden strait.
On the deck of the central flagship, a round redwood table vibrated with the buzz of an incoming call.
Brrrr brrrr… Brrrr brrrr…
"Hm? Is it that late already?" An elderly man dressed in spotty white pajamas stirred from his nap in a reclining chair. Blinking against the fading light, he noticed the vibrating Den Den Mushi and lazily picked it up.
"Moshi moshi. This is Syrons. Make it quick—I haven't had dinner yet."
This sleepy elder in pajamas was none other than Nielmark Syrons, codenamed Ghost Hammer—a Vice Admiral of the Navy Headquarters, dispatched to Alabasta under direct orders from Fleet Admiral Sengoku.
"Er… Vice Admiral Syrons, sir! This is Captain Quintan, Naval Intelligence Division stationed at Port Nanohana."
"What's the matter?" Syrons perked up at the mention of Naval Intel, his grogginess evaporating.
"Sir, the Chris Pirates have arrived. Including their captain, Chris T. Aeridar, there are eight wanted officers aboard, plus over two hundred crew members. They've entered the port. Requesting further instructions."
"Ah, so they've arrived. That's fine. Just keep tabs on them. When they plan to leave Alabasta, notify us." Syrons took a sip of water and swished it around his mouth before speaking again, clearly unbothered.
"Vice Admiral… shouldn't we move to capture them?" Captain Quintan asked hesitantly.
"You fool. Don't say something that stupid," Syrons barked, his tone sharp now. "Alabasta is a member of the World Government. Do you think King Cobra would allow us to storm through his kingdom like a bunch of thugs?"
Even the World Government and Navy Headquarters wouldn't authorize such blatant military action inside a sovereign state.
Sure, if this were just some two-bit pirate crew, King Cobra might turn a blind eye. But the Chris Pirates? They're no small fry. You can't just throw a few hundred Marines at them and hope it sticks.
Syrons' fleet was far too large and conspicuous. Cobra wouldn't tolerate an operation of this scale without provocation. This was a world government-aligned nation, after all—a major power.
More importantly, a battle of that scale in the middle of a city would lead to massive destruction and civilian casualties. As king, Cobra would never allow such recklessness. And neither would the Navy want to be responsible for such damage.
Besides, Alabasta had another safeguard—the presence of one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea. If Aeridar and his crew dared stir up real trouble, that so-called "hero of the people," Crocodile, wouldn't sit idly by.
"U-understood, Vice Admiral! My apologies," Quintan stammered, sweat pouring down his face as he realized the gravity of his suggestion.
"Just keep watching. Don't let them know you're there. We only need to know where they are." Syrons didn't hold the misstep against the young officer. Everyone says dumb things when they're new.
"Yes, sir."
Click.
The call ended.
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