Sengoku had just fallen asleep when the Den Den Mushi beside him rang urgently again. He opened his eyes in irritation and turned to glare at the creature, which was bouncing so hard it looked ready to lose control. He stared at it like an enemy.
"What is it with today? Will this ever end? Am I even allowed to sleep?"
"Hello... Sengoku... This is Saint Rosward!"
The moment he heard Saint Rosward's name, Sengoku wanted to hang up. Celestial Dragons never brought good news. They rambled on and on, always speaking as though they stood above everyone else. Even though Sengoku was the Fleet Admiral of Marine Headquarters, a mere Celestial Dragon dared to order him around.
"Oh? Saint Rosward. What can I do for you at this hour?"
Despite his displeasure, Sengoku had no choice but to summon his patience and play along.
"Sengoku, the newspapers are everywhere! Are you just going to let what happened at the Sabaody Slave Auction House go? Slave auctions are permitted by the government, you know. I can hardly imagine what fun there will be without them. You've been far too indulgent with that Ye Chen!"
Sengoku's mouth twitched. Permitted by the government? He had plenty to say, but could say none of it.
That sickening business of Slave auctions had been the Celestial Dragons' doing from the start.
For years, Sengoku had resented the way the Celestial Dragons threw their weight around, indulged every whim, trampled on human rights, and toyed with Slaves. Yet the government was caught between them and the people, trapped in an awkward, powerless position.
Calling it tacit approval was generous; the government had been forced into it. But it could never openly support such a thing. If it did, what credibility would the World Government have