"So those are your manners? You save my island, but saying good morning is apparently beyond even the devil's persuasion? You always did have nerve, Newgate!" I began, striding briskly toward the table as the Emperor rose to his feet.
"Ralagan! Good to see you! Alive and well—and you're looking even better," he laughed in that booming voice of his that made the ground itself seem to tremble.
I never quite understood how it worked, but Ed's presence was strangely comforting. Once, long ago, I had even considered joining him—but I was far too spoiled by my own freedom to start taking orders. That didn't lessen my respect for Whitebeard, nor my affection for him. I considered him a magnificent pirate, the best to walk the seas.
The beginnings of our friendship had not been easy. He had once been an enemy—one Roger had defeated, true, but we had always known how dangerous a clash with him could be. Over time, the two captains had grown close through mutual respect and perhaps simple liking. It was a legacy Roger had left behind, and one I intended to take care of.
Besides, during my long career there had been a brief episode when I spent several months living aboard the Moby Dick—the mother ship—and I had enjoyed myself immensely. Thanks to that time I became acquainted with nearly the entire crew, especially the first four divisions.
"I feel better too!"
Greeting Ed was always a life-threatening experience. His embraces were so crushing they could break bones in seconds—even tekkai wasn't much protection against them. After exchanging a few remarks about our health, I took a seat across from him at the table. Somewhere to my right I caught a glimpse of Thatch—the sharp-tongued pup with a wicked sense of humor, my favorite among the crew.
"I see you're getting back to work again. You took Atlantis, now Eldorado… Rumor has it the Navy is planning to move on Tir Na Nog. What are you going to do about that?" Ed asked, pouring me a drink.
I graciously took the shot. After all, no one had ever died from a glass of vodka—unlike refusing one. Edward was not fond of people wasting liquor.
"Let them come. God is my witness that if they manage to set foot in the capital, I'll publicly admit there's no stopping them," I laughed cynically. "As for Eldorado—you saved it. If I were in the mood, I might offer it to you as a token of gratitude. But I'm not. So I'll just say thank you and warn you not to try stealing any of my gold. I like gold."
From inside my coat I pulled out half a liter of vodka—the so-called black-hour reserve—and shared it with Ed. He barely even felt it.
"You're a spiteful and ungrateful creature," he commented, laughing in his usual thunderous way.
"I wasn't asking for compliments," I said. "So I assume it wasn't much trouble? Three crews. Privateers."
"Privateers," he confirmed.
He watched with mild curiosity as I looked around the temple. Marco had mentioned the youngest child earlier. Naturally I intended to inspect the phenomenon.
"It was rather entertaining, actually," Ed added. "Watching them panic."
"You're a merciless creature," I said, lighting another cigarette. "Just the sight of you gives a man chills. Trust me, I know. I remember when you fought Roger. The moment I saw you I thought, Well, that's the end of our adventures."
"The past is the past."
"So it is," I said. "Which means we might as well deal with today. What do you say, Ed?"
Newgate nodded slowly, smiling that vague, thoughtful smile of his. The kind that suggests either deep wisdom or absolutely nothing happening behind the eyes.
Before he could answer, a child squealed.
The sound bounced through the temple like a loose cannonball.
A small blonde girl came charging toward us, grinning like she had just discovered the world was made of sweets. Five years old, perhaps. I judged that with a professional eye and immediately wondered what sort of lunatic kept a child aboard Whitebeard's ship.
Judging by the crew's reactions, though, this wasn't unusual.
His sons watched her the way older brothers watch a younger sibling.
Which raised several questions.
"Edward," I said, pointing at the girl who had just climbed onto his knee, "you will kindly explain this phenomenon."
The man was looking at her with such tenderness that my brain refused to process it for a moment.
"That's Little Ray, yoi!" Marco said.
"That's not true!" the girl shouted instantly, sticking her tongue out at him. "I'm Lerena Saphira Newgate!"
I blinked.
"Newgate?" Then I looked at Edward. "Newgate?"
"Well," he said, not even attempting modesty, "she's my daughter."
The child climbed up onto his shoulder as if it were a convenient balcony and stared down at me with curious golden eyes. There was a kind of untouched innocence in her face. The sort only possible when the world hasn't had a chance to bite yet.
Which, to be fair, made sense.
A child on Whitebeard's ship was probably safer than most kings.
Still.
"Your daughter," I repeated slowly. "Well, well. And who is the lucky mother?"
"Captain," Thatch called from nearby, grinning like a shark who'd just smelled blood, "the brat's got such a devil in her I'd say the answer's sitting right here."
The crew erupted in laughter.
"Undoubtedly," I said dryly.
"Captain Ralagan?!" the girl squeaked.
She slid off Ed's shoulder and marched straight up to me. I caught the unmistakable glow of admiration in her golden eyes.
I won't pretend it didn't flatter me.
"The first woman Emperor?" she asked breathlessly.
"Well," I said, unable to suppress a smile, "in person."
"Daddy! Is it really her?" the girl gasped. "Marco said you're the best in the world!"
I could forgive the casual you. Children are allowed a certain lack of manners. Especially when they follow it with compliments.
I shot Marco a sideways look. Then I laughed.
"When I grow up," she announced proudly, puffing up like a tiny admiral, "I'm going to be a queen. And everyone will listen to me. The Navy. The Emperors. Everyone."
"Oh?" I said. "Being the Pearl of the New World isn't enough for you?"
She frowned.
"The Pearl?"
No fear. No hesitation. She was completely certain the world would treat her kindly.
I remembered that feeling. I used to have it myself.
"Well," I said, "you are the daughter of the most powerful man alive. Your brothers make up the strongest crew on the seas. Why shouldn't you be a princess?"
I tapped the table lightly.
"A pearl."
She turned toward Thatch with the triumphant air of someone who had just been crowned ruler of the universe.
"Thatch!" she declared. "From now on I'm the Pearl of the New World! You must call me Your Highness!" She paused. "And I want toast with jam!"
The sheer authority in the voice of a five-year-old tyrant made me burst out laughing.
"Edward," I said, patting her on the head, "that one is going to grow into a proper despot." I nodded toward her. "If things go well, you'll rule the world yet. Collecting tribute in the form of biscuits."