In a world where creatures like Den Den Mushi existed, news traveled incredibly fast.
The banquet in Dressrosa had lasted from noon until late at night. In the end, only after Aleus insisted did it finally come to an end, though it seemed like it could have continued into the next day. Afterward, he returned to his ship with his attendants, turning down the invitation to spend the night at the Royal Palace.
As soon as he boarded, before he could even settle into his seat, Fran stood before him with a Den Den Mushi that wouldn't stop ringing.
"It's His Majesty, Former King Worlek."
Fran spoke softly.
"Grandpa? What does he want now?" Aleus muttered. He took the Den Den Mushi and picked up the receiver.
"Hello?"
Before he could say anything more,
"Yo! Ale, it's Grandpa!"
The familiar, booming voice made Aleus dig at his ear with his little finger. Once the loud laughter died down, he asked, "Grandpa, what is it this time?"
"I heard the news!"
"What news?"
"You took down Umit! It's already spread throughout the New World. Even the World Government has received reports from its people. The King of Maritime Transport has fallen, and a new wave of upheaval is about to hit the New World... The Navy's pestering us for money, warships, equipment—I'm only the director of a little Barrel Manufacturing Bureau, so why are they coming to me about gun stocks? Go ask the Stock Manufacturing Bureau! They're driving me up the wall."
On the Red Line Continent, in one of the World Government's office buildings, was the Barrel Manufacturing Bureau.
The World Government was an enormous organization beyond ordinary people's imaginations. It had more than 170 Affiliated Nations and also controlled the Red Line Continent, the only continent in the world. Naturally, governing such a vast territory required an equally vast administration.
Since the Twenty Kings established the World Government eight hundred years ago, it had spent those eight centuries growing into a bloated behemoth.
Anyone without access to the World Government's inner workings could hardly imagine just how bloated it had become. Take the production of a single flintlock, for example: it was divided among more than twenty separate manufacturing bureaus. Their tangled relationships could leave any newly appointed official utterly bewildered.
Of course, one could also say that this was the inevitable result of a society with an increasingly specialized division of labor.
But—
The Barrel Manufacturing Bureau had more than fifty clerical employees. Half were only on the payroll in name, taking money without doing any work. Most of the rest worked sporadically, and even when they showed up, they did little more than process paperwork with no practical value.
The only ones who were truly busy were the frontline workers and on-site managers, yet they were also the lowest in status. The workers could only scrape by on meager wages, which weren't enough to cover any additional expenses. Even a minor accident could mean the ruin of an entire family.
The World Government's deformity and perversion were laid bare in these little details.
However,
The extraordinary force at its disposal crushed any possibility of the common people rising up. The blood on the Celestial Dragons' blades had never dried. Without military might to rival the World Government's, revolution from below was all but impossible.
"...Ale, the commotion you've stirred up this time is no small thing!"
After rambling on about a lot of irrelevant things, Sokachio Worlek, seated in his office, finally returned to the subject at hand.
He was a handsome old man, with neatly groomed gray-white hair and bright, sharp green eyes, entirely free of the cloudiness common in the elderly. His tailored suit perfectly complemented his still-powerful frame. The sharply defined contours of his muscles showed through just enough to make many young women's eyes sparkle and their cheeks flush.
He was smoking a cigar in a recently replaced leather office chair. He blew a smoke ring toward the ceiling, gazed out through the huge floor-to-ceiling window at the bright full moon, as large as a jade platter, and continued:
"From what I've learned, Umit had no ties to the World Government. The discussion within the World Government has mostly been about who will replace him as the next King of Maritime Transport in the New World. Unless something major happens, I don't think the World Government will interfere in this affair."
"After all, the New World is, in a sense, a fallen territory—a lawless land outside the Holy Land's jurisdiction. The Holy Land is quite happy to see chaos break out there. But as for what the Navy will do, I'm not so sure."
The old man spoke with certainty.
The Navy was the World Government's legitimate armed force and the largest military organization in the world.
As the saying went, a big forest had all kinds of birds. An institution as vast as the Navy naturally had plenty of internal discord. Its three Admirals each upheld a different idea of justice, giving rise to different factions. And that was without even mentioning the Navy's internal conflicts—the struggles between the Navy and the World Government, and between the Navy and the Holy Land of Mary Geoise, had never ceased.
The Navy was a direct organization under the World Government. By rights, it was supposed to obey the World Government and take orders from the Holy Land. In practice, the Navy did indeed follow orders, but it had never given up its right to act independently. In their repeated clashes with the powers above them, the Navy had learned to exploit loopholes in the Holy Land's orders, seeking to seize greater authority.
Ever since the Four Emperors had driven most of its forces from the New World, returning there and bringing the lawless region back under its control had become the Navy's persistent ambition.
"The Navy has never thought of giving up on the New World. On the contrary, it's always been working to return there, demanding funding, equipment, and power... Fleet Admiral Sengoku has had no shortage of arguments with the Five Elders over all this."
"Ale, with Umit gone and the New World's power brokers reshuffling, the Navy might see this as a good opportunity to return. Ale, I heard from your old man that you wanted to try your hand at getting a Shichibukai position. You weren't joking with him, were you?"
"I was serious."
Aleus picked up the piping-hot coffee with milk and took a small sip, savoring its sweetness. A relaxed expression appeared on his face. "And don't make it sound like I'm neglecting my duties. There's nothing shameful about being a Shichibukai!"
"So, Ale, you really do plan to take over Umit's legacy. Are you aiming to become the next King of Maritime Transport in the New World?"
Worlek pressed him.
"My spoils aren't something I'm willing to let other people share," Aleus replied casually.
The answer wasn't unexpected, but Worlek still felt a throbbing headache. "Ale, have you really thought this through? Being a Shichibukai might look impressive, but it's a muddy pit. Even if you manage to climb out, you're bound to end up covered in mud."
"You killed Umit and showed our friends and enemies alike that you've got the strength to be the next king of the Ekmondo Kingdom. Your performance was perfect. Neither I nor your father were ever as outstanding as you are. There's really no need for you to get involved in the troublesome business of maritime transport in the New World!"
Worlek earnestly tried to persuade his far-too-exceptional grandson to abandon the dangerous idea.
That was right.
In Worlek's eyes, Aleus's ambitions were dangerous.
The old man was accustomed to keeping a low profile and sticking to the Ekmondo Kingdom's little patch of land, steadily developing it over time. He couldn't get used to Aleus's bold, aggressive ideas.
"Grandpa, you don't have to rack your brains over it. Once I've made up my mind, I won't change it on a whim."
Aleus cut him off.
"Don't forget, the New World is actually a very simple place. Here, might makes right, and the victor is the true embodiment of justice... And I, Sokachio Aleus, Crown Prince of the Ekmondo Kingdom, look forward to earning the title of 'Black Emperor' even more than I do 'Black Prince.'"
The Den Den Mushi fell silent.
Sokachio Worlek, seated in his office, was so stunned by his grandson's words that he froze.
He didn't even notice when his cigar slipped onto the desk.
Black... Emperor?
In this day and age, few countries still used the ancient title of "Emperor." Over the past decade or so, it had gradually become a title for the Great Pirates. Once the Four Pirate Emperors had established their supreme authority in the New World, the title of Emperor had become the exclusive designation of the strongest pirates.
"Ale, you want to become a pirate... No, wait, well..."
Worlek's thoughts were in a jumble.
He understood that Aleus didn't mean he intended to go to sea as a pirate. He meant that he wanted to attain the status of a Pirate Emperor—a goal that was even more worrying than becoming a pirate. Such overwhelming ambition wasn't a good thing—
But,
It seemed his grandson might actually have the strength to match his ambition.
The title of Black Emperor might not be mere absurd boasting.
"...Ale, don't go saying things like that so carelessly again. You... Never mind. Do whatever you want! I understand now—my experience and lessons might not apply to you... In any case, whatever you plan to do, try to protect what our ancestors left us. Don't... That's all."
Worlek picked up the cigar from the desk and tossed it into the ashtray.
After chatting a little longer with his most cherished eldest grandson, he hung up the Den Den Mushi and rose to his feet. He walked to the window and gazed up through the glass at the full moon, his heart surging as he struggled to recover from the lingering impact of their conversation.
"Pirate Emperor... Shichibukai..."
He let out a long breath. At last, his face showed the weariness befitting his age.
"A child who's foolish is trouble, but one who's too clever is trouble too! Still... Black Emperor really is a fine name!"
They gazed up at the same full moon in the heavens above.
Different people naturally had different feelings.
This was Marineford, Navy Headquarters—the stronghold of the millions of Marines around the world, and a terrifying place feared by countless pirates.
"Tsuru, I'm sorry to make you attend a meeting so late at night."
"Sengoku, what happened? Why call an emergency meeting at this hour?"
"It's serious. You can read this report first. Everyone isn't here yet, so we'll wait a little longer."
The Navy's highest authority, the current Fleet Admiral Sengoku, known as "Buddha Sengoku" and "The Wise General Sengoku," pushed the documents beside him toward Vice Admiral Tsuru, who sat to his right. His long, braided mustache lightly tapped the table as he moved, and a complex gleam shone in his eyes behind his round glasses.
"This is..."
As Vice Admiral Tsuru skimmed the report,
Someone else pushed open the meeting room door and walked in.
"Sakazuki, you're here."
The man wore a dark red suit, a Navy hat, and black leather gloves. His rugged features looked as though they had been carved with an axe, and his expression radiated enough authority and ruthlessness to terrify many.
Sengoku greeted him with a slight nod.
"Fleet Admiral, what happened?" Sakazuki asked in a deep voice as he chose a seat at random.
"Gahaha! Sengoku, Tsuru, you got here too fast! Oh, the little brat Sakazuki's here too!" Before Sengoku could answer Sakazuki, the meeting room door was flung open again, and a laughing old man charged inside.
"Garp, you bastard, sit down already!"
At present, the Navy had three Admirals. Admiral Borsalino, codenamed "Kizaru," commanded the Navy's Science Unit and was personally protecting Dr. Vegapunk, who was conducting research on the New World island of Punk Hazard. Admiral Kuzan, codenamed "Aokiji," had gone on a mission some time ago and was still carrying it out.
So,
Only Sakazuki, codenamed "Akainu," was stationed at Headquarters.
The lineup gathered in the meeting room was practically the full extent of Headquarters' highest combat strength.
"Everyone's here, and there's no need to drag things out with opening remarks this late at night. I'll get straight to the point." Fleet Admiral Sengoku cleared his throat and passed the documents Vice Admiral Tsuru had finished reading to Sakazuki. Then he said, "Just a little while ago, Vice Admiral Vergo, Base Commander of the New World G5 Branch, sent back a piece of intelligence."
"Umit has been killed." He spoke each word distinctly.
"Umit? Who was that again... Oh! That guy in the New World who called himself the King of Maritime Transport?"
Vice Admiral Garp picked his nose as he tried hard to remember, eventually recalling a vague impression.
"That's right. The King of Maritime Transport," Sengoku confirmed with a nod.
"I've met him before. I remember his boxing was lousy, and his constitution wasn't much better... Well, he was passable, I suppose. Did Umit get taken out by that crazy old hag Big Mom? Or did one of her sons do it?" Vice Admiral Garp ignored the report Sakazuki had passed his way and kept peppering Sengoku with questions.
"Sakazuki, finished reading?"
Sengoku ignored the old troublemaker and asked Sakazuki, "What do you think?"
"Sokachio Aleus... He isn't a pirate, but he's still a destabilizing factor. Someone who refuses to behave should be punished."
"Huh? Don't bring that up. He's from a World Government Member State, so we shouldn't concern ourselves with that kind of troublesome matter for now. I want to know what you think the future situation in the New World will look like."
"...Fleet Admiral, are you planning to mobilize the troops and return to the New World?"
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