The Red Line, on the New World side.
At that moment, a pirate ship flying a claw-marked skull flag was brazenly anchored in the waters just outside the naval base harbor guarding the Holy Land of Mary Geoise.
A large group of pirates lounged around the deck in twos and threes, bragging, drinking and chatting, or laughing and horsing around. They completely ignored the dozen or so Navy ships in the naval harbor, all of which were watching them like hawks.
Even more bizarrely, the dozen or so warships in the naval base harbor, the coastal defense cannons atop the fortress batteries, and the strong Marines on guard and patrol all ignored the pirate ship. They let it remain anchored in front of the naval harbor without lifting a finger. The Marines, who were supposed to be dutifully guarding the place, either stood watch or patrolled; not one of them seemed inclined to fire a volley of cannonballs at the lone pirate ship sitting within range like a stationary target and sink it.
And so, both sides tacitly ignored each other's presence. Neither paid the other any mind.
It was late at night.
The stars had long since filled the sky. But with the Red Line in the way, only half the heavens were visible, which made the sight feel somewhat oppressive.
Who knew how much time had passed...
The naval harbor's western gate slowly opened. A small boat hurried across the water toward the pirate ship. As the figure standing aboard came closer, the pirates saw a man of balanced build with red hair, three scars over his left eye, short stubble around his mouth, and no left arm. He wore a white shirt with only half its buttons fastened, a long black cape, brown cropped trousers patterned