New World — Veracruz Island.
The Roger Pirates possessed Eternal Poses for many islands in the New World, so they had no need to follow any so-called fixed routes. You could say they went wherever they pleased.
Unlike other seas, pirates ran rampant in the New World, so people had long since grown used to their presence.
Take Veracruz Island, for example. It was technically part of a World Government–affiliated nation, yet when Roger's crew landed openly without even attempting to hide themselves, plenty of people saw them—and not a single disturbance broke out.
...
At this moment, inside a tavern in the port town of Veracruz Island—
The Roger Pirates had taken over a large table and were resting there.
"Three!" Roger slammed down a card, then declared arrogantly,
"I can play with my cards face-up against you now. No need to hide it—I've got four Kings and a Joker in hand. Play whatever you want!"
After saying that, Roger smugly waved at the bartender and added,
"Do you know what Whitebeard and Shiki used to call me when we played cards on Hachinosu? Gambling Freak! Hey, pour Valthior a cappuccino!"
Sitting across from him, Rayleigh held a hand of cards and glanced at Valthior.
"What do you say? You folding?"
Valthior curled his lips into a crooked grin, wearing the expression of a true overlord.
"Fold? Why would I? I'll play a single Big Joker."
With that, he threw down the Joker.
Roger froze for a moment, clutching his four Kings. After a quick calculation, he knew all four Aces were still unplayed. Now wasn't the time to use a bomb.
He snorted disdainfully.
"I'll let you have that move. What can you even do? You think you can beat me? You think you can take me down with seventeen cards? If you can wipe me out in one go with seventeen cards today, I—Gambling Freak Roger—will eat this table on the spot!"
But the moment he finished speaking, Valthior calmly threw his entire hand onto the table.
"Four Aces. You can't beat that. Alright—nine-ten-Jack triple airship. I'm out."
There were no airplanes in this world, so the combination was called an "airship."
A triple sequence of 9-10-Jack airships, plus the Joker and four Aces—seventeen cards in total.
An instant kill.
Game over.
Roger stared at the spread of cards on the table, completely dumbfounded. Before Valthior could even say anything, he shot to his feet and shouted,
"Wait! I want to check the cards!!!"
Beside him, Gaban was laughing so hard he could barely stand straight. Still, he reached over, gathered Valthior's cards, and counted them under everyone's watchful eyes.
"No problems with the cards!" Gaban declared.
Rayleigh, still holding his own hand—he and Valthior were on the same side this round—was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. He slapped the table and shouted,
"Someone clear the table! Our captain, Gambling Freak Roger, is about to eat it!"
"Trying to score a free meal, are we?" Spencer added, bursting into laughter.
Roger stood frozen, staring at the cards on the table and the four Kings in his hand. His face shifted between green and pale. After a long moment, he turned to Valthior with a flattering smile.
"Lord Valthior, I spoke too loudly just now. You wouldn't hold it against a country bumpkin pirate like me, right?"
"Hahaha! I actually prefer that arrogant look you had a second ago. Come on, Gambling Freak, get back into character," Valthior laughed, stroking his chin.
Of course, no one was actually going to make Roger eat the table. If he did, what would they even play on afterward?
In the end, Valthior settled the round by punishing Roger with: "Go polish my shoes."
...
"Switch players, switch players! This guy Valthior's gambling with his lifespan—who the hell can beat him? Someone else get in here!" Roger shouted as he sat back down.
If not for his pride, he would've already dragged Shanks and Buggy into a game!
Just then, the tavern door was pushed open.
Two men in black suits stepped inside first, their expressions stern as they scanned the room. Immediately after, another figure walked in between them.
Clearly their superior, this man wore a fur coat over a custom-tailored brown suit.
The commotion drew the attention of many in the tavern. Some people's expressions changed instantly, fear flashing across their faces.
There were plenty of people in suits on the seas—but those who carried themselves like this were almost exclusively from the World Government's intelligence agencies, the CP organizations.
A tavern was always a mixed bag of characters—outlaws, pirates, and all sorts of shady figures. Roger's crew wasn't even the only pirate group present. Seeing CP agents walk in naturally made people uneasy.
But before anyone could react—
The leader spotted Roger's group at a glance. The arrogance typical of a World Government official vanished instantly, replaced with a fawning smile.
He hurried forward, then dropped to one knee in a smooth motion, kneeling before Valthior.
"Young Master! This lowly one has finally found you!" he said, his tone respectful with a hint of sycophancy.
Valthior and the others were all a bit stunned. After a moment, Valthior said,
"You look somewhat familiar..."
"I am Spandine!" Spandine replied immediately.
He didn't bother with further introductions—Mary Geoise had already informed him that he'd been recommended to Valthior.
Only then did Valthior recall who he was. He nodded, then glanced at Roger.
"Someone from my family. CP agent."
Normally, a pirate being entangled with the World Government would be suspicious—on any other crew, that alone would get you labeled a traitor and executed.
But the Roger Pirates were different. Everyone knew Valthior's identity was special, so it was perfectly reasonable for World Government agents to come looking for him.
They might be curious, but no one suspected him of betrayal.
Roger even waved him off directly.
"Perfect timing. Go handle your business and free up the seat. Gaban, you're up—your turn to play!"
No one asked further questions. Valthior stood up and said simply,
"Lead the way."
It was obvious Spandine had already arranged everything. He quickly got up, hunched slightly like a lackey, walking half a step ahead as he said,
"Please follow me, Young Master…"
As the two left the tavern and headed toward the place Spandine had prepared, Valthior casually asked,
"Don't you have my Den Den Mushi signal?"
"Yes, Young Master," Spandine replied with a flattering smile. "Back in Mary Geoise, Mr. Alfred granted me your Den Den Mushi signal with that person's permission. I've tried contacting you several times recently, but perhaps due to poor signal, I was never able to reach you."
Poor signal, my ass.
He'd called multiple times—no one ever picked up!
Unlike Garling, who lacked awareness despite being a Celestial Dragon, Spandine was well-versed in reading the room. Of course he understood what it meant when his calls went unanswered.
Valthior thought about it and realized it was true.
His social circle was small—aside from a few people in Mary Geoise, it was mostly Roger's crew. No one from Mary Geoise contacted him regularly, and he was with Roger's crew every day, so the Den Den Mushi was practically useless. When unfamiliar calls came in, he usually didn't bother answering.
It was a bad habit he'd developed from being in a position of power for too long.
After all, in his past environment, anyone who had his Den Den Mushi signal was someone of status—but aside from a select few, none outranked him. If he didn't answer, it didn't matter. If it was important, they'd find a way to come see him in person.
Just like Spandine now.
Unable to reach him by Den Den Mushi, Spandine didn't dare complain—he simply blamed the signal and went to great lengths to track him down and visit him personally.
Valthior nodded but didn't bother explaining.
After walking a bit further, he asked again,
"By the way, anything interesting happen in Mary Geoise lately?"
His exploits on Linderland Island should've made it back by now. He was curious what the Holy Knights thought after learning of his strength.
But Spandine didn't mention them. Instead, he immediately said,
"There is one rather unusual matter. A few days ago, Saint Homing of the Donquixote Family was expelled from the Holy Land along with his entire family—four people in total."
Even though Homing had been stripped of his Celestial Dragon status, Spandine still addressed him respectfully as "Saint" in front of Valthior.
After all, the man before him was a Celestial Dragon—showing disrespect, even toward a former one, could leave a bad impression.
"Huh?" Valthior froze. The timing didn't match up.
Frowning, he asked,
"Why?"
"I heard that Saint Homing's eldest son, Saint Doflamingo, severely injured Saint Carfa—the third in line of succession of the Nerona Family—by striking him with an elbow in Mary Geoise. As a result, Saint Carfawas gravely wounded, and the Holy Knights passed judgment…" Spandine explained.
He didn't know the full details—only the official verdict announced by the Holy Knights.
Hearing this, Valthior felt his brain short-circuit.
What the hell? Doflamingo elbowed a Nerona!?
Is this kid that much of a beast?!
He's a real piece of work!
...
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