Rising Tensions

The bustling port was alive with activity, the sun in the sky casting its bright light on the busy harbour. The smell of saltwater mixed with the scent of freshly caught fish and the creaking of wooden ships, their masts reaching high into the sky, filled the air.

Men and women hurried about, loading and unloading crates from the ships, while sailors yelled and barked orders. The colourful flags of various groups fluttered in the breeze, adding to the vibrant scene.

A Barque with its navy blue hull and gold highlights looked impressive, but the numerous holes and split wood on its upper deck showed the battles it had recently faced. More important, was the insignia of the Gold Hoarder on the flag.

The man who stepped out of the ship was tall, with short black hair that looked ruffled from the wind. His grey eyes were tired, with drooping eye bags that hinted at long hours of ...work. He wore a dark business suit with a loosened tie and an unbuttoned jacket, giving off an air of relaxation amidst the chaos of the port.

Jeff Bezos stood proudly in his Sea of Thieves Gold Hoarder outfit. "You're late again, Elon." Jeff Bezos started, his tone frustrated. Bezos glared at Elon as he walked down the gangplank with a slouched figure.

Elon Musk replied with a smirk, "I'm not late, Jeff. I arrive when I want to arrive, besides, aren't I the captain?"

"Captain that, captain this, why won't you actually act like one?" Bezos snapped back. "We gave you the helm when we got dragged here by that damn skeleton lord but Gates and I are the ones busting our asses talking to people."

Elon raised his arms in mock surrender. "Oh, sorry. I would've thought that moving to another world would make any of you realize that I only do things that are interesting. I don't want to keep doing Merchant Alliance stuff, even when we're the Gold Hoarders."

"This is another world, it's not a game mechanic to be locked to classes. Geez, is this why the Discord always talks about how insufferable you are, Elon? You signed up to be a Gold Hoarder," Jeff retorted.

"That's because being stuck as a solo in a dying game would be a miserable experience, and that SOMEONE decided to make us become Gold Hoarders," Elon snarked.

"Well, excuse me that I wanted a guaranteed amount of money! You know we aren't the best of PvPers out there, and our server was filled with portal-hopping Reapers."

Elon interrupted, cutting Jeff off. "Just tell me what we're doing here."

"Of course, you don't even know," Jeff shook his head, exasperated. "Remember how weeks ago I told you all about a fucking Reaper being in here? When I thought we were the only ones here?"

"Oh!" Elon exclaimed, suddenly remembering. Well, he didn't remember, he just wanted to make it look like it which Jeff immediately realized.

"You still don't remember," Jeff said with a sigh. "Right, so I only now know of their faces and that one of them is a cat-girl. We've lost a significant partner, and pirates are starting to attack us since the idiotic marines have decided to fail at the one thing they're supposed to do."

"Really?" Elon raised an eyebrow, glancing around the damaged ship.

"Our ship has holes in it! What do you think?!" Jeff started to raise his voice at his nonchalant Captain.

Elon looked around and said, "Ah, that seems to be the case."

"Anyways, we have to talk to-" Jeff began, but Elon interrupted him.

"Aight, I'll be in the captain's quarters," turning to leave.

"I haven't even started, and you leave when I say we need to talk to someone?!" Jeff called out after him.

Elon sighed and turned back. "We have to talk to these nobles, don't we?" he asked.

"Yes, we do," Jeff replied. "And I need your help with it. These nobles are the worst kind in One Piece, but they have money, and we need it. Don't worry the person we'll talk to today is Merchants, the evening is much worse."

"Oh? At least we'll talk to normal people beforehand. You know I hate talking to these nobles. They're more like punching bags for the audience," Elon complained.

"Shh! Keep it to yourself. If you won't help, then fine, but please don't endanger anything we have on them. We want their money, even if that means having to talk to these people," Jeff insisted.

Not one step out of the port, Elon already saw a noble talking down on a deckhand of a ship. "Man, no wonder the pirates are more good-looking than the nobles. They look like they came out of a randomized character creation," Elon muttered.

"Okay, I agree on that, but these nobles are our hopes to make business booming," Jeff said.

"...Hey, is there any demand for protection?" Elon asked.

"What do you mean?" Jeff asked back.

"These nobles have deep pockets, but we can't rely on slow sales of items like tobacco and silk products forever. We need to motivate them to spend more," Elon said, crossing his arms and smiling.

It was an idea that would cross Elon's mind, war profiteering. What else could give such a large return on investment by causing a lawless world to be a bit more lawless? A little chaos never hurt anyone, as long as it lined the pockets of those who wish to prolong the suffering.

Jeff frowned, "What you're suggesting could easily turn the world against us. It's not good for business to be seen if we're caught trying to profiteer from conflict."

Note the word 'caught.'

"But the cash must flow, Jeff. And sometimes, it takes a little blood to keep it pouring, besides… who's gonna lose when all chips are on us?"

Jeff stared with a tired face at Elon who was grinning. "Sometimes I think you are thinking of something contrary to how you look and act. I always see you sleeping so how in the world do you still have eyebags?"

"I have a passive ability that all gamers have, it's called being constantly in between the states of exhaustion and death. The only thing I'm not so sure about is being exhausted."

As Jeff and Elon strolled down the cobbled streets, they couldn't help but notice the grandeur of the towering buildings that surrounded them. Glimmering in the sunlight, the polished marble facades and ornate ironwork balconies spoke of the wealth and power of the nobility that inhabited them.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of the well-dressed crowds, they noticed a merchant selling intricately woven silk chairs, and another displaying gilded vases and statues. The tantalizing smells of exotic spices and perfumes wafted through the air.

Eventually, their steps led them to a large Guild Hall, its entrance teeming with people bustling in and out. Inside, the air was thick with the sound of voices and the clatter of pens on parchment.

All around them were the signs of commerce and trade - ledgers, contracts, and shipments of exotic goods piled high in every corner. It was clear that this was the heart of the city's economy, a hub of activity that never rested.

Jeff strides forward towards the Guild Hall entrance, but a guard steps in his path, blocking his way. "I'm sorry, sir, but you can't enter without proper authorization," the guard says firmly.

As Jeff steps back, he notices a wealthy-looking man nearby, who immediately turns towards the commotion and strides over to the group. "What is the meaning of this?" the man demands in a haughty tone, his fine robes swishing around him.

"Uh… oh, I a-apologize, Lord Grantham." The guard stammers out an apology, but the wealthy man doesn't seem to be satisfied.

"You should know better than to stop people of our standing. These gentlemen are our esteemed guests, and I demand that you show them the respect they deserve," he said, turning his attention back to Jeff and Elon.

At this, the guard seems to shrink back, realizing his mistake. Lord Grantham shoots a scathing glance. "Please forgive the rudeness of my man," he says with a gracious nod. "He is new to his post."

Jeff bows in acknowledgement, and Elon simply waves a hand in greeting. The three of them, mostly Jeff, exchange a few more pleasantries before making their way inside the Guild Hall.

As they entered the Guild Hall, Jeff was immediately drawn to the intricate designs and the well-polished marble floors. Lord Grantham, a tall and distinguished-looking man, welcomed them warmly and led them to a private chamber. There, Jeff began discussing the trade deal, highlighting the benefits of partnering with his company.

As the conversation concluded, Elon interjected, causing Jeff to look at him with a mix of surprise and concern. "Lord Grantham, I hope you don't mind me asking, but what do you know about the recent attacks on trade routes by pirates? I believe it's affecting the entire region, including the guilds. Especially after the Marines in this area have been annihilated."

Lord Grantham shifted in his seat, his expression becoming more guarded. "I'm aware of the situation, Mr Musk. However, it hasn't affected our operations as of yet. We have measures in place to ensure the safety of our goods and our members."

Elon nodded thoughtfully. "I understand. But do you think it's wise to wait until it's too late to act? It's a dangerous game, waiting for trouble to come to you."

Jeff shifted uncomfortably, wondering if Elon was trying to provoke Lord Grantham. "Elon, I think we should trust Lord Grantham's judgment on this matter. He knows his guild best."

Lord Grantham gave a small smile, indicating that he appreciated Jeff's support. "I assure you, Mr Bezos, that we will take the necessary steps to protect our interests.

Elon leaned forward in his chair, his hands clasped together on the table in front of him. "Gentlemen, the recent chaos within the Marines is a cause for concern," he said, his voice low and measured. "We need to take steps to protect ourselves and your interests."

Lord Grantham nodded thoughtfully, but the wealthy man across the table shook his head. "It would be a waste of resources," he said dismissively. "We have never needed protection before."

Elon sighed inwardly, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. "With all due respect, sir, times are changing," he said. "We need to be proactive, not reactive. And we cannot afford to take any risks with our ships and our trade routes."

The wealthy man remained unconvinced but eventually spoke up. "I understand your concerns, Mr Musk," he said. "But perhaps we could consider a compromise. A smaller force, perhaps, or a temporary measure until the situation with the Marines has stabilized."

Elon nodded with a mentally wide grin. "That's a good point," he said. "You know… we could provide the connections and eventual small force that will guard you. Mind you, not just from pirates, but other... rivals."

He nodded and said, "I will remember what you have offered, Mr Musk." In the end, the wealthy man still disagreed. Elon leaned back in his chair, feeling a sense of relief that they had at least discussed the issue. He exchanged a glance with Jeff, who looked just as relieved.

Elon and Jeff start to make their way out of the Guild Hall when they're stopped by the wealthy man. "Excuse me, gentlemen, just one more thing," he says, stepping in front of them. "Do either of you happen to have any Zoan Devil Fruit users?"

Elon furrows his brow in confusion. "No, I'm afraid not. Why do you ask?"

The wealthy man sighs heavily. "One of my competitors recently acquired a slave who possesses that ability, and it's become quite the showpiece for him. I'd like to one-up him, so to speak, and I'm willing to pay top Berry for it. 500,000,000 Berry minimum, but if you find a fruit uneaten then I believe I can pay for Billions."

Elon shakes his head. "I'm sorry, we don't deal in slaves or Devil Fruits. But we'll keep an ear out if we happen to come across anything like that."

The wealthy man nods, somewhat disappointed, and bids them farewell as they make their way out of the Guild Hall.

"Zoan? Where'd they get a slave? I thought Devil Fruit users here are a dime a dozen." Elon turns to Jeff with an observation. "Hey… didn't you…?"

Jeff suddenly stops and palms his face before dragging his hand all the way down. "Oh… shit…"

~

A jail cell is a dimly lit room with a low ceiling and walls made of rough-hewn stones that are coated with a thick layer of grime and mould. The air inside is thick with the stench of deathly odours.

The only source of light is a small barred window high up on one of the walls that casts a feeble beam of light into the room. The window is barely big enough to fit a hand through, let alone a person.

Inside the cell, people are packed tightly together like sardines in a can, with barely enough space to move. The floor is littered with straw and filth, and the people inside are mostly poor, with ragged clothes and tired faces. They sit or lie on the floor, huddled together for warmth, their eyes downcast and their spirits broken.

In one corner of the cell, there are a few young girls, some of them not even teenagers yet. They are scared and huddled together for protection, their faces dirty and tear-streaked. The adults try to comfort them, but they are all too aware of the harsh reality of their situation.

Across from them, in another cell, there are only men. The cell is even smaller and more cramped than the one with the girls. The men are packed so tightly that they can barely move. Some are sitting, while others are lying down, their eyes closed in exhaustion. They are a mix of ages, from young men to old, and they all share the same haunted look of despair.

Xed is sitting among the group of women in the cramped jail cell. Despite the horrible conditions, he looks relatively healthy compared to the other prisoners. The sweat on his forehead indicates that he's been in this terrible place for a while.

It has been days since his last meeting with Karma and Krys, and he feels nothing but determined. He knows that he has one mission to accomplish before he can even think about his own escape - to finalize their entry.

Having meticulously planned his escape, he was well-versed in the building's layout and had created a key: from an imprint of candle wax and then painstakingly carved it from a broken broom handle based on the mould that he made on another day.

Being considered a luxurious 'item' afforded him the privilege of leaving his confinement regularly, which was a benefit that Karma knew how to exploit to their advantage.

Their plan was simple but required finesse. As the walls surrounding High Town were more heavily guarded and filled with prying eyes, Karma had devised a way to gain entry in a more conspicuous manner - from the inside.

As to why they had to be so sneaky in the first place? Because why not? There'd be so much trouble for the Reapers once they are revealed. They won't run of course, but better to not wake the bear than try outrunning it.

Xed was jolted from his reverie when a guard banged on the bars and yelled, "Oi, ladies. The Baron wants to see you." The girls looked mortified, and Xed couldn't blame them. He strode over to the bars, his chains clinking with each step.

"Who does he want?" Xed asked, ignoring the guard's obvious disdain for the prisoners.

"You and a few other women in the back. You'll need to be cleaned up before you entertain the guests tonight. And as for the kitten," the guard sneered, "you'll be going with the Baron. Now come on!"

The women the guard referred to were the same ones Xed had seen earlier when he was called for a similar purpose. Being a showpiece was a privilege compared to the unbearable things they did to the other women who always cried after the evening's events.

If only he had the opportunity to kill them. They were pirates but honourable ones… relatively speaking.

The guard escorted Xed to an opulent dressing room, where he was made to don a maid's uniform and instructed to look busy to put on a show to the guests, basically, the Baron was flaunting his acquired goods. This was a routine occurrence - each day, he would be paraded around as a sick imagined meaning of a collection.

Karma knew that if Xed acted alone and carried out the assassination, the blame would fall on him Instead, Xed waited for Karma and Krys to enter the premises and execute the assassination while Xed would remain in his cell until the time was right for him to act.

Once they triggered an event that would stir up animosity among the nobility, Xed would let them inside High Town. It would be like lighting a match to a pile of kindling - a small spark would set off an arsenal.

Xed found himself in the midst of a grand gathering, surrounded by influential people from various major families. They were all discussing the recent events, but the conversation often shifted to Xed and the Baron, who was known for his arrogant and ostentatious displays of wealth.

The room was filled with the sounds of clinking glasses, laughter, and polite chatter, but Xed could feel the tension in the air. He knew that many of these people were not to be trusted and that he had to keep his guard up at all times.

As he moved through the crowd, Xed could feel the eyes of many of the guests on him. Some looked at him with curiosity, while others regarded him with obvious leering eyes. He could hear whispers and mutters behind his back, and he knew that many of these people were discussing him and his situation.

"Oh, my!"

"He's here? A surprise for sure…"

The murmurs of the crowd caught Xed's attention as they gasped and exclaimed. Then came those exact words, "Her majesty?"

Xed's eyes met with one ugly man, Sterry, who was there among the nobles. Xed could easily kill them all since there were no guards around. However, this was a major blow to Karma's original plan.

'S.H.I.T.'

Sterry and his wife took notice of Xed staring back at them. Sterry had a disgusted expression on his face while his wife was beaming at Xed. Nantokanette started pacing towards him, and Xed realized that this was a horrible chance.

'Shit, this changes everything!' Xed thought to himself.

"Sterry, isn't this not not cute?" Sterry's wife said.

'I guess the plan's not going to go the way you like it, Karma,' Xed thought to himself, feeling the weight of the situation.