The news of Eldorado being under siege was a rather unpleasant surprise. Not that I hadn't expected something like that—after Atlantis, the largest of my islands, it was only natural that the richest would be next. The sequence itself vaguely interested me, though I never cared enough to untangle the strange logic behind human thinking. Things happened the way they happened, and that was that.
So I turned the Banshee toward Eldorado. When we entered the harbor, I found the largest ship I had ever seen waiting there. Emperor Whitebeard's flags were flying from its masts.
What the devil was he doing on my island?
Then again, his vessel looked almost as large as the island itself. Apparently Ed had run out of room on his previous ship and decided to upgrade his accommodations. Impressive.
As we docked, several of Newgate's young rascals leaned over the massive ship's bulwark and began shouting down at me like lunatics.
"Captain! Please forgive the intrusion—we came in good faith!"
"Jozu?! Drag me alive to hell if I'm wrong—but did you come here to back me up?" I shouted, recognizing the captain of the Fourth Division.
Diamond Jozu—a massive man from the south—grinned and confirmed it. He climbed down the gangplank and waited for me on the pier while the rest of the crew remained aboard, still yelling at the top of their lungs. From the sound of it, they had clearly been drinking.
"With your permission, Captain!"
We embraced warmly, and the pirate led me into the city, explaining what had happened along the way.
"We were sailing nearby when your people sent the signal," he said. "Picked it up about two days ago. Three privateer crews showed up—waving letters signed by some governor."
"And what did you do with them?" I asked, glancing down the street.
The signs of battle were obvious: shattered buildings, scorched foundations, debris scattered everywhere. Ed's crew clearly hadn't bothered with politeness.
"We burned the letters and chased them straight to hell," Jozu declared.
I clapped him on the shoulder, quite satisfied with that answer. Who had ever heard of privateers swaggering around on my territory? Though, truth be told, it should have been me who caught the signal and stopped the attack in the first place.
People reacted to my return in different ways. Most of them seemed pleased to see me, though the reason was debatable. Were they genuinely happy—or simply afraid?
Fortunately, Eldorado hadn't suffered too badly. The worst damage was near the harbor roads; the rest of the city still stood proudly.
"May hell swallow the lot of them," I muttered, spitting in disgust as I lit a cigarette. "What's gotten into them? Are my islands the only ones left to attack in this world?"
"Well… not exactly," the Fourth Division captain replied, suddenly looking a little uneasy, though he pushed on bravely.
"I know what you're about to say. My fault. Yes, yes—I'll take the blame. But honestly, when a person is busy raising children, they can't keep an eye on the whole world every minute…"
"You have children, Captain?" Jozu stopped in his tracks, staring at me in such astonishment that it was almost comical. He was not a man prone to strong emotions—usually he seemed entirely untouched by them. Yet somehow I had managed to surprise him.
"Two sons, in fact. Little hellish tiger cubs," I snorted, pleased to finally tell someone about my offspring.
Jozu congratulated me and said he hoped to meet them someday.
"In time, my dear fellow. For now, I'd like to see your father and thank the old man for the rescue. After all, I arrived two days late—and in hell, that's an eternity."
Eldorado had several cities, most of them built around golden ziggurats and countless gold mines. It was a magnificent sight, and I alone knew how much effort it had taken to persuade those wealthy nobles to cooperate.
Back then my protection meant a great deal. No one dared pick a quarrel with the King—and as for me… well, no one had been brave enough either. Not until rumors of my death began to spread, or that I had been dragged alive into hell. However the story went.
Naturally, the moment those rumors appeared, a few scoundrels decided it was time to start raiding my territories. I supported honest trade, of course—but helping themselves to my lands and goods was another matter entirely.
Then again, I understood such people. It took courage to set foot on my islands, and seizing them meant taking my place. Not that I'm overly modest—but doing so would certainly earn someone a respectable position in the world.
Edward had taken up residence in one of the temples, buried beneath piles of gold and every imaginable treasure. Three of his divisions formed his entourage, making an unbelievable racket.
Marco, captain of the First Division, came out to greet me—a reserved youngster with a shaved head and the power of the Phoenix Fruit. I liked him. For someone his age he was disciplined and mature, and conversations with people like that always pleased me most.
"Captain—good to see you alive," he said, bowing slightly.
I raised my hand in a kind of maternal blessing and smiled.
"How long has it been, kid? You've grown! I remember you always fighting with Thatch, but there's nothing left of that little brat now. Look at you—a grown man!"
"You haven't changed at all, Captain. Not a single gray hair, yoi," he replied politely, gesturing toward the temple building swarming with Whitebeard's men.
The old rascal himself hadn't even bothered to come out and greet me.
I laughed, genuinely happy to see Whitebeard's crew on Eldorado. It had been a long time since I'd seen them—perhaps too long.
"The old man would've come out himself," Marco explained, "but he's busy with the youngest kid."
"The youngest, huh? Well, well…" I whistled under my breath and allowed myself to be led through the crowd of pirates toward the temple.
Forty-five steps—yes, I counted them—later, I stood in the main nave of the Temple of Ammony, patroness of miners.
Amber paintings imported two hundred years earlier from long-vanished Mesopotamia hung on the walls. The vaulted ceiling glittered with artificial stars.
And in the middle of it all sat the massive Edward at a table covered with maps, deep in conversation.