The end of the alley opened onto a small square piled high with wooden barrels.
Someone stood there, short in stature, his apron stained with grease, a bone cleaver still clutched in his hand.
He looked up at the newcomers and grinned, revealing teeth yellowed by tobacco.
"The Donquixote Family?"
His voice rasped like sandpaper scraping iron. "On our island, the rule is you pay before you eat."
Doflamingo smiled, this time without covering his mouth.
His grin stretched to his ears, looking particularly savage in the dim light.
"Fufufu... Pay? Certainly."
He stepped forward, threads trailing from his cuffs, his trouser legs, even the tips of his hair, scraping almost inaudibly across the flagstones. "How about paying with your lives?"
As the ship slowly approached the shore, everyone on deck had already braced themselves for a barrage of cannon fire.
Yet the expected attack never came.
After collecting the docking fee, the top-hatted worker on the pier briskly turned and left.
The wooden gangway was lowered, and everyone stepped onto this land where cloyingly sweet scents drifted through the air.
An unbroken stretch of stalls filled their view.
Spinning cylinders drew out wisps of sugar like clouds, straw poles studded with red fruit resembled trees laden with ripe produce, and artisans traced birds and beasts in amber syrup.
Sweetness ruled the entire road leading into town, all manner of aromas mingling in the wind and finding their way into everyone's nostrils.
Rossi frowned at the rear of the group.
This wasn't right.
They had long been openly opposed to that "Shichibukai"
and his forces; they should have been met by ranks of warships, not the peaceful scene before them.
Could this be some kind of facade?
A muffled boom from the sea interrupted his thoughts.
Rossi turned toward the