"Prince is my proudest son."
His fingers pressed against a mark of a remote oasis on the map; his knuckles were rough, and the edges of his nails were cracked.
When he said this, he didn't see the charcoal markings on the map, but another scene: a much younger Prince, wearing a white crown prince's robe, standing at the entrance of the audience hall, smiling at him.
That smile was sincere and restrained, not a smile specially trained by royalty to greet their subjects, but a genuine feeling of honor to stand here, a genuine belief that everyone who walks through this door deserves to be treated with respect.
"In the audience hall of the palace, he smiled at every minister who offered advice—nobles, merchants, tribal elders from remote areas—he treated everyone equally."
He would patiently listen to an old nobleman's rambling explanation of the irrigation problem in a village on the edge of the desert, and before the other party had even finished speaking, he would have already offered three feasible solutions.
"Draw a sketch of the canal's route on paper, and mark the capacity of the reservoir at each node."
A very faint smile appeared at the corner of Wolof's mouth, which lingered for only a moment in the candlelight before disappearing.
"He was only nineteen years old, but he was intelligent, approachable, and energetic—unlike a young man who had grown up in the inner palace."
He turned around, walked back to his desk, and unconsciously rubbed the rim of the now-cold teacup on the table with his fingers.
"At one state banquet, emboldened by alcohol, I said to my ministers, 'This son is ten times better than me.'"
He paused, then repeated, "Ten times."
There was no bitterness when those two words came out of my mouth, only a calmness that came from time having smoothed out all the rough edges.
"The envoys from various countries sitting at the table were all convinced. Alabasta had a perfect heir, a future king."
"The Nefertari Family has sat on this throne for hundreds of years. There are only a handful of crown princes who can simultaneously win the support of nobles, the love of commoners, and the respect of foreign envoys, and Prince is the youngest of them all."
4
He pushed the teacup aside and braced his hands on the edge of the table.
An old leather notebook lay open on the desk, its cover worn smooth and its pages curled at the corners.
Those were things Prince left behind; he never took them away.
"He wasn't the kind of royalty confined within the high walls of the palace. At the age of twenty, he led a small guard across the entire Alabasta. From the capital to Yuba, from the Rainbase to the surrounding towns, and even to the northernmost oasis villages that weren't even marked on a map, he traveled everywhere."
"He haggled with merchants in the spice market of Yuba, researching who profited from each step of the spice's journey from cultivation to export."
"He observed the psychology of gamblers in the casinos in the Rainbase and came back to tell me that casinos are the most complete social sample of Alabasta. All kinds of people are there, and no desire can be hidden. If you want to understand the weaknesses of human nature, spending a month in a casino is more useful than studying in the palace for ten years."
"He helped farmers dig irrigation ditches in the driest fields, his palms blistered and bleeding, the blisters bursting and scabbing over, only to burst again. His fingers developed thin calluses during that trip, and his feet were covered in blisters from his desert boots, making him walk with a limp, but he never complained."
Wolof paused for a moment, and the night wind outside the window swept across the palace walls, making a low, mournful sound.
"He told Charles, who was accompanying him, that the future king could not sit on the throne and rule the country by reports; he must see for himself what the reports ignored."
Wolof looked up at Barlow, who was standing by the bookshelf, and said, "When Charles returns, tell me that Prince will surely become the greatest king in Alabasta's history."
Barlow did not look away, nor did he speak.
He leaned against the bookshelf, arms crossed, maintaining absolute silence.
But things changed starting with that trip.
Wolof's fingers moved off the notebook cover and slowly clenched into a fist.
"He changed after he came back; he was no longer satisfied with just knowing Alabasta."
He began leaving the palace frequently, sometimes for months at a time, with no fixed return date. When I asked him where he had gone, he simply smiled and said, "I've gone to see a bigger world."
He opened his notebook, inside which was a yellowed nautical chart. Several routes were marked in red ink on the chart, starting from Alabasta and extending to every corner of the Grand Line.
"Later, I pieced together his whereabouts through other channels. He sat in the audience of the parliament of World Government Member States, sneaked into a port tavern controlled by the West Blue Mafia, and drank with a wanted pirate."
"He met an archaeologist in Ohara, and the two hit it off immediately, having a very pleasant conversation. No one knows what they talked about, only that during that time Prince's study was filled with books and manuscripts collected from all over the world, and the lights often stayed on until dawn."
Wolof closed his notebook, the candlelight casting a flickering shadow on his face.
"Later, everything changed. He saw the Celestial Dragons chaining up Fish-Man slaves at auctions, and he saw the kings of the Affiliated Nation bowing and submitting before the Celestial Dragons, stuffing more than half of their national tax revenue into chests of Heavenly Tribute and sending them to the Red Line."
He saw Marine warship returning entire shiploads of slaves intact to Mary Geoise, because naval regulations stipulated the protection of the Celestial Dragons' property.
He noticed the hesitant look in the eyes of the scholars of Ohara when they mentioned a certain erased historical year, because saying even one more word would get them on the World Government's list of those to be erased.
He realized that there was an order in this world that had been operating for hundreds of years, and everyone had found their place in this order: the king relied on the exploitation of his subjects to hold the Celestial Dragons accountable, the Celestial Dragons relied on the World Government to maintain their privileges, and the Navy relied on the name of justice to protect every link in this food chain.
No one dares to break it, because anyone who does will die.
Wolof took a deep breath, and his voice, no longer trembling, became an extremely calm statement.
"His eyes gradually changed; I noticed it. At first, it was unease, then wariness, and finally, fear."
"Because I saw in his eyes the same look that every person who has challenged the World Government over the past few centuries has had before going to hell."
"He once gave a speech to his courtiers in the audience hall of the royal palace, saying that Alabasta should not just be a machine for paying Heavenly Tribute to the World Government, Nefertari Family should not just be stewards of the Celestial Dragons."
He said that for centuries, generations of people in this desert have dug irrigation canals, planted spices, and carried sacks of grain; their blood and sweat should not become another layer of bones beneath the foundations of Mary Geoise.
"After hearing this, my ministers looked at each other in bewilderment; some applauded, while others turned pale. I, the king, stood behind the side door of the audience hall and listened to the entire proceedings, my palms sweating profusely."
Wolof pulled a chair out from under the desk and slowly sat down, like an old man whose legs were bent by memories and who had no choice but to sit down.
"That night, I summoned him to my study, this very study, the very spot where you are standing now."
He gestured with his chin toward Barlow, "I had an unprecedented argument with him in this room. I said Alabasta cannot support a madman who challenges the World Government, and the Nefertari Family cannot afford it."
"I say my ideal is benevolent, but a benevolent ideal is the most dangerous thing in the world. It will burn me to ashes and drag the entire royal family into the fire."
He said the Celestial Dragons weren't gods, but rather self-proclaimed by twenty kings who signed a contract hundreds of years ago.
"I said you don't understand politics," he paused for a moment, then said, "I don't understand the future."
Wolof shifted his gaze from Barlow to the doorway of the study.
He bowed to me and said, "Father, please allow me to think about it some more." Then he turned and left. That was the last time I saw my son standing at the door of my study.
Wolof remained silent for a long time.
"After that door closed, I sat there for an entire night. I faced two choices. One was to continue protecting this son, and wait for the World Government to discover Prince's remarks; sooner or later, CP0 would knock on the doors of the Alubarna Palace."
"Given the World Government's style, it won't just be Prince who dies; the Nefertari Family's bloodline, built up over hundreds of years, will be completely destroyed because of one person's ideals."
"Another option is to end this disaster sooner, to exchange the life of one son for the safety of the royal family, for the stability of all Alabasta, and to silence everyone with one wrong choice."
His voice suddenly became extremely calm.
"This kind of trade-off is not unfamiliar to a king who has ruled Alabasta for most of his life."
"Politics itself is about choosing the least bad option from a bunch of bad ones."
"I chose to prioritize the greater good. I placed a colorless and odorless poison in his dinner, with a precise dosage. The symptoms perfectly matched those of a rare blood disease, and even the Royal Physician couldn't detect anything amiss."
"I personally arranged my son's death, personally chose his funeral attire, and personally read the eulogy before his coffin."
"The entire city of Alubarna its flags at half-mast, and the cries of its subjects echoed from the docks all the way to the main gate of the palace. I stood on the palace terrace, thinking, 'It's over.'"
"Alabasta is safe, the Nefertari Family is safe, I traded my proudest son for all of this."
Wolof stood up from his chair, walked to the window, and braced his hands on the window frame.
"For the sake of Alabasta's stability, I personally killed my own son, held a state funeral for him, and now, three years later, he has risen from his grave, leading a rebel army to conquer half of my kingdom. And he is even smarter, more ruthless, and more persuasive than he was three years ago."
He turned around, and moonlight streamed in from behind him, obscuring his expression. All that could be heard was the dryness in his voice, as if all his strength had been drained away, leaving only ashes.
"Alabasta, which I have been trying to maintain stability in, has now been torn to pieces by his own proudest son. You ask me what else I am hiding? I am not hiding the truth; I am simply too ashamed to say it."
"What right does a father who killed his own son have to stand here and talk about legitimacy? What right does a king who killed his crown prince have to ask others to defend the city for him? But I cannot retreat now, because if I do not defend this place, Prince will—"
He stopped abruptly, not saying his last words, but everyone in the study knew what those unspoken words were.