The New World's sea routes wound and twisted. Robin followed them onward, eventually arriving in Alabasta.
The country looked little different from the information she had gathered. The Royal Palace stood in the center of the capital, its white stone buildings gleaming in the sunlight; vendors crowded the streets, pedestrians streamed past, and dance troupes could occasionally be seen performing in the squares, the beat of drums and chime of bells drifting on the wind.
But Robin did not join the bustle.
She rented an inconspicuous little building near the Royal Palace. Its location was just right-not so close to the palace that she would attract the guards' attention, yet close enough to make her nighttime activities convenient.
She stayed in by day and went out at night.
It was a habit she had developed after arriving in Alabasta.
Whenever night fell, she changed into dark clothes and slipped silently out of the building.
The Flower-Flower Fruit's power was especially convenient in the darkness. Arms sprouted from shadows high on buildings, extending silently like ropes, bypassing the outer guards and climbing higher.
Tonight was no different.
The outline of the Funerary Temple looked especially solemn in the moonlight.
It was the tomb of Alabasta's royal family through the generations. Its architecture was ancient and imposing, its walls covered in writing and totems from eight hundred years ago.
That writing had long been lost to the world. To ordinary people, it was merely elaborate decoration, but in Robin's eyes, it was the key to the truth of history.
She landed lightly on the flagstones inside the Funerary Temple without making a sound.
Taking a glow stick from the archaeology bag she carried, she gently bent it to light it.
Soft white light came on, illuminating a five-meter radius. On the stone