Chapter 7: Uninvited Arival

Chapter 7: Uninvited Arival

 

"As the sun began its descent, casting a fiery glow across the horizon, dark clouds gathered ominously overhead. The party of travellers, aboard a massive galleon, sailed the turbulent waters of the Eastern Sea, approaching the legendary 'Kingdom's Abyss'.

This fabled port was whispered to exist between two towering cliffs, shrouded in mist and mystery, its location known only to a select few. As the ship approached, the imposing cliffs grew larger, their jagged edges casting long shadows across the churning sea.

Following cryptic instructions passed down through the company, they finally spotted the elusive opening - a narrow passage between the sheer rock faces. Hidden from prying eyes.

With practiced precision, they steered their ship into the hidden cavern, where a smaller caravel awaited them. Here they would make the crucial transfer, abandoning their flagship to complete the final leg of their journey to the enigmatic kingdom of Oykot.

The crew quickly moved from the grandeur of their flagship to the humble vessel that awaited them in the hidden bay.

Gone were the towering masts and opulent cabins, replaced by the modest confines of their smaller vessel.

With practiced efficiency, they moved forward, and each member focused on the task at hand.

As they set sail once more, leaving the safety of their flagship behind, they set off.

After sailing for a few minutes, one of the crew members couldn't help but ask, "Boss, why did we need to change our ship? This feels... small," he said, gesturing around, his large build making movement difficult in the confined space.

"You'll see in a minute," a man at the front of the ship responded firmly. "Keep sailing straight ahead; don't stop for anything."

 

"Boss!" the woman exclaimed, her frustration evident in her voice as she gestured towards the imposing wall. "That's a wall."

"Not there, next to the wall," the man responded, irritation creeping into his tone. "See those markings? That's what we were instructed to look for. Let's hurry and follow them; they should lead us to the hidden entrance."

As she scrutinised the area, the woman's confusion deepened. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, she noticed movement—a massive tentacle blocking their path, causing her face to drain of all colour.

She almost shouted, "Boss, I see something big moving!"

"Don't worry, it's just the watchdog," he replied. "As long as we're on one of these ships, they won't attack."

Despite the boss's assurance, the crew grew more nervous as they approached. The tension peaked when the woman screamed, "We're going to crash!" But to their relief, the massive beast moved away at the last second, finally revealing the entrance they were looking for.

As they passed the giant sea beast, the woman asked, "Boss, why is it not attacking us?

"I hear they have an excellent beast tamer," he said, saying nothing more as Silance returned to the small ship.

 

Moments later, they reached the bay of the secret harbour, everyone breathing a sigh of relief to be back on solid ground.

A hefty figure approached, exuding an air of superiority, draped in extravagant clothing far too luxurious for a man of his position.

"Hmm," he sneered, eyeing the tired travellers with disdain.

"There are no scheduled deliveries today," he squeaked, his voice resembling that of an angry rat. "I don't know who told you how to get here, but this is a private port. Explain your arrival or prepare the necessary docking fee," he demanded, rubbing his dirty hands together.

"That is, unless you wish to suffer an unfortunate accident," he chuckled menacingly, gesturing towards the massive beast that sealed the wall behind them.

His laughter echoed through the empty harbour.

Ignoring the 'warm' welcome, the traveller strode forward with unwavering confidence, his imposing companions trailing behind, their hardened expressions betraying no hint of concern for the veiled threat.

Now that they were here, nothing could make them leave.

The boss paused before the official, his face stoic and unmoving as he reached into his cloak, adding to the building tension.

The official's escorts nervously grabbed their weapons, preparing for the worst, only to be told by the fat man to stand down.

This wasn't the first time he had encountered someone so silent, but they always paid in the end.

Instead of the expected bribe, however, the man pulled out a piece of paper and a purple badge, causing the harbormaster to frown.

 

Just as he was about to order his men to dispose of the newcomers, the traveller began to speak, holding out documents in front of the official's face. "We are sent by the Consortium to finalize the terms of an agreement with the royal court."

Silence fell over the group as everyone awaited a response.

The official's expression remained stoic as his eyes studied the documents, intently reading the fine print.

A moment later, the fat man was stunned. His face turned pale when he saw the royal seal on the bottom of the document, proving its legitimacy.

"But since you claim this is a private port, we will report this transgression to the King," the traveller said, his voice devoid of emotion, as he turned to walk away.

 

"Hang on," the officer stuttered as he reached out to stop the group, only to trip and fall to the ground.

He struggled to his feet, holding his bloody nose. Who would have guessed that this ragtag group had anything to do with the Consortium?

Forcing himself to stand in front of the group, he pleaded, "Dear guest, there seems to be a misunderstanding.

The traveller frowned, his voice as cold as ice, "You mean I'm misunderstanding that you're abusing your position for personal gain? Is that what you mean?" He stared down at the fat man with a steely gaze.

The blunt statement drained the last bit of colour from the official's face. If he couldn't put this right, his career would be ruined.

 

"Nono, this is all my fault for being too suspicious and not explaining myself clearly," the fat man admitted hastily.

"Times are hard, and we can't be too careful these days; pirates are everywhere," he tried to justify his actions.

"To clear up this misunderstanding, I will personally arrange transport to the royal palace. Let me prepare a carriage to take you there. It may not be much, but it's the least I can do to apologise for my mistake."

After a moment's hesitation, he added, "If you wish, I also have some influence with the guards to make it easier for you to enter the capital."

The traveller shook his head and said, "That won't be necessary; the transport is sufficient.

The change in the harbour master's attitude made some of the people behind the traveller wonder what kind of document he had shown the official.

They wondered if they were really here to make a deal, as the boss had claimed, given the sudden change in the fat man's demeanour.

The official, now calmer, proceeded with extreme caution.

He immediately ordered his men: "Get four of the best horses and prepare two carriages. You have ten minutes or you are fired!"

He looked back at the blank expression on the envoy's face, and a shiver ran down his spine.

"Make that five minutes!" he shouted, so loudly that his workers feared he was about to have a stroke.

Observing the fat man's panic, the sole woman in the group whispered, "Boss, when did you become such a big shot in the Consortium?"

Attempting to maintain an air of mystery, the boss replied, "Who knows?" before leaving the group to follow the fat man.

As the boss moved out of earshot, the smaller giant murmured to the others, "Pff, show off."

"Hush, Norman," the woman retorted to his childish reaction. "I'd be quite pleased if he were promoted; it would simplify our lives significantly."

Norman muttered 'Gold Digger' under his breath, causing the woman's eye to twitch, though she chose to ignore the comment.

"Wait a minute," interjected the shortest member at the back of the group, prompting the others to halt and turn around to address the issue.

"None of the higher positions have opened up, so which region would he be promoted to?" he asked, a solid question that left everyone pondering.

"The boss probably hasn't been promoted, he's just showing off," Norman replied, breaking the silence.

"Or," the thin man countered, "maybe a new position, since the four blues only have one emissary each," sounding as if he had some inside knowledge.

The older gentleman, unable to allow this conversation to continue, spoke monotonously, "That would make him a candidate for 'envoy to Paradise'.

"Let us stop this discussion, they are still in the process of determining if he really qualifies," the sharply dressed middle-aged man said as he adjusted his crescent-shaped glasses.

But he quickly stopped talking when he realised he had said too much.

"Indeed," the woman said, "until we have confirmation from the boss himself, this is all wild speculation," with a hint of greed in the back of her eyes.

"It would explain how he can keep paying us while never taking a share of the loot," Norman added.

Most of them nodded in agreement as they moved towards the two waggons, one for the boss and one for them.

"This is clearly biassed. Look at the difference; ours looks like a hay cart instead of a carriage," the woman fumed.

The workers overheard this outburst, exchanging nervous glances and probably wondering if their next paycheck would come with a pink slip attached.

"Now, now, don't complain; be happy we don't have to walk, so get in so we can leave," said the gentleman as he glanced sideways at the luxurious carriage at the front.

He, too, was a little unhappy with the accommodations before he looked at his companions, especially the little giant in the back, who was nearly four metres tall.

He sighed in resignation and climbed into the waggon as well, knowing there was no other way.

Once they were finally on their way, they could relax and enjoy the last part of the trip to the capital in peace and quiet.

It was a much-needed rest after spending most of the last week sailing through a storm.

Travelling in silence made the boredom of just sitting around set in, but like most sailors, they found ways to pass the time by swapping stories and gossip.

"I wonder what's going on. The boss hasn't told us anything, and I'm worried about our purpose here," the short, blocky man said, shuffling in his seat.

The big man laughed nostalgically and said, "Don't be so nervous. Pontos, do you remember the last time we were all together? We were supposed to take care of the 'big problem' quietly; those were fun times."

Pontos shivered and tried to push the memories aside. "Don't remind me. I still remember the look on her face. Good thing we wore masks, otherwise, none of us could live a peaceful life after what we did."

The sickly man rolled his eyes. He was not part of the group then, so he could not empathise with either of them. "Stop dwelling on the past and concentrate on the present. The boss said he would brief us when we meet the client. So let's be patient."

Pontos stammered, "But why would such a big company be interested in this place? They say the Consortium controls more than half the world's trade and has wealth beyond imagination." He looked at his companions, seeing different reactions on each of their faces.

Lowering his voice, he whispered, "There are even rumours that they have attempted to take over the Underworld, but it was only a partial success, and the ultimate victor is still uncertain."

Hearing this, the old man looked at Pontos in confusion.

"That's nothing," Norman boomed. "I heard a rumour a few years ago that after Gold Roger was executed, they secretly got hold of his treasure, since all the higher-ups were originally acquainted with him, and they used his 'wealth' to build the Consortium to expand their influence throughout the Grand Line."

Not to be outdone, Ramus joined in on the fun and shared the rumour he knew.

"I've heard something similar, but a little different," said the sickly-looking individual. "They are the remnants of the flying pirates, using whatever finances Shiki left behind to prepare for his inevitable return and reclaim what was once rightfully theirs."

The others rolled their eyes at this absurd rumour.

"Maybe they want to buy the kingdom," the woman said, half dazed as she remembered another rumour, which provoked laughter from some of the companions in the waggon.

"Hear me out," she continued. "It may be a long shot, but who knows? They clearly have the money to do it, and there are already rumours that they have successfully acquired a kingdom."

How could you possibly 'buy' a kingdom?" Ponto scoffed, "It's quite easy to destroy one, but we all know that, don't we, Penelope?" He said this as he looked at the woman.

The comment made the inside of the carriage fall silent for a moment before he glossed over what he had just said and continued talking.

"It's not like you're going to go out there and accidentally stumble over someone stupid enough to sell one, is it?" He said it sarcastically, his tone laced with bitterness.

"What do you know?" Penelope spoke, her eyes full of venom.

"It is said that there was a king who over-exploited his kingdom to the point of destruction. After squandering all his money, he borrowed ten billion berries at ten percent annual interest, using his kingdom as collateral, only to default on the first payment and run away, leaving the starving masses behind."

"I don't believe you," said Pontos. "There is no way that such trash exists, royalty has duties to uphold from generation to generation."

"Ignorance is bliss," lamented Penelope.

"What happened next?" interrupted Norman, who seemed very interested in the story.

"As I was saying," she huffed, looking red.

"The whole country went through a period of rapid development.

All the slums were torn down and rebuilt, and soon the economy was revived and mining resumed."

"After that, it gets a bit vague depending on who you ask, while some say a rare mineral was found, others say it was a huge coal deposit."

Norman's scepticism cut through the gossip like a knife. "No way," he scoffed, his eyebrows raised. "Sounds too good to be true. Why throw money at junk if there's no return?"

Before Norman could blink, the Elder's cane whizzed through the air and struck him square on the head. The force knocked him into the cart, leaving a Norman-shaped impression on its base.

"Cut the chatter, Norman," the gentleman hissed, his voice a sharp whisper. "Leave the gossip to fishermen and married women."

"But Boss André," Norman asserted, rising to his feet, "you said leave it to the fisherman."

There was a note of genuine bewilderment in his voice. "Then why'd you hit me? I'm half Fishman; that's discrimination!"

Norman's words were abruptly cut short by a smack on his back.

"That's not what he meant," she scolded, her tone tinged with annoyance but tempered by a hint of amusement. "You big lug," she sighed, shaking her head. "He meant fisherman, as in those who go fishing, not fisherman, the species."

Seeing Norman's confusion deepen, Penelope threw up her hands in surrender.

"Never mind, just forget it," she said, exhaustion in her voice.

"Oh, OK, nēchan," he muttered, rubbing his head. "I'll try to remember that for next time."

Time passed uneventfully as Penelope continued her practice of teaching Norman common sense.

During their journey down the road, Norman abruptly halted, his attention drawn to a distant figure.

"Hey guys," he called confidently, "I think there's someone down the road."

Penelope narrowed her eyes, her scepticism was evident. "Are you sure, Norman? I don't see anyone," she asked.

Norman nodded, undeterred. "I'm pretty sure; I can just feel it," he insisted.

Ponto, intrigued, chimed in: "Let's make things interesting. How about we bet on whether someone is really there?"

Andre shook his head. "Why bother with a bet? We can just keep walking and find out," he suggested pragmatically.

Ramus, always up for a bit of excitement, grinned. "Come on, André, don't be a party pooper. Let's spice things up," he urged, already organising the bets.

Andre sighed and reluctantly gave in. "Fine, let's do it. But I tell you, don't come crying when I take all your money.

With the stakes high, each hoped to emerge victorious from the game they had entered.

Little did they know that the wheels of fate had begun to turn again, ready to reveal an outcome beyond their control.