— Hey, hey, Bellamy! There's a lighthouse! — Sabo shouted, pointing with his hand — above the gray horizon a lighthouse towered majestically.
— And someone's there! — Auger picked up, already aiming his rifle.
The whale that had just dived down seemed to give up its place on the stage. It disappeared deep below, leaving behind a splash, and before us a passage opened.
— Let's dock! — I yelled, pushing the commander and the rest toward the rail.
The bright light of the lighthouse illuminated the spray around us, and the movement of the water almost calmed. The ship, under Sabo's control, set a course and slowly drew closer to the rocky cliffs. Below, the lighthouse stood motionless — unyielding, like a watchtower at the gate to a world of adventure.
The ship gently bumped its side against the wooden pier, and I was the first to step onto the wet planks.
Above us, the lighthouse loomed.
— Quite a place… — Gin muttered, keeping a hand on his tonfas.
Looks pretty normal to me, I said, continuing along the stones.
— I don't like the silence, — Karina said, hiding her face under the hood. — After a whale like that, I expect anything.
And then the door at the base of the lighthouse opened with a drawn-out creak. A man in a violet vest, with white hair, stepped out onto the threshold. His calm gaze slid over us, as though we weren't the first, nor the last.
— Welcome to the Grand Line, — he said hoarsely. — I am Crocus. Keeper of this lighthouse.
— Captain, — Sabo nudged me with his elbow quietly, — he doesn't look like an ordinary old man.
— Yeah, I see, — I replied, relaxing a little.
Crocus… doctor of the Pirate King… — the thought flashed, and I involuntarily fixed my gaze on him.
— Old man, — Gin stepped forward, peering at the keeper's face, — since you live here, can you tell us more about the Grand Line?
— Hm… that's partly my duty, — Crocus said calmly, settling into a deck chair by the lighthouse wall. He sat so relaxed, as if before him were not pirates, but mere wanderers.
He closed his eyes, leaned back… and kept silent. A minute. Two.
— What's with this old man?.. — Karina bent toward Sabo and whispered. — Dementia?
— No, girl, — Crocus suddenly responded, without even opening his eyes. — Just used to the fact that rookies always rush to hear what is inevitable anyway.
He opened his eyes and finally spoke:
— The Grand Line is unlike the seas you came from. The weather here is unpredictable. In one minute the sun can shine, and ten seconds later — a hurricane, a blizzard, or a whirlpool. Sometimes currents collide so violently that ships capsize in seconds.
We exchanged glances — someone smirked, but our navigator paled.
— But on the islands, — he continued, — it's different. There, the climate is stable. There are Winter, Spring, Summer, and Autumn islands. And each of these types divides into four seasons. You can leave one island at summer noon, and the next will greet you with an icy storm.
— So it's like roulette all the time? — Auger snorted, adjusting the rifle on his back.
— You could say that, — Crocus nodded. — But worse is that ordinary compasses are useless here. The magnetic fields of the Grand Line are chaotic.
I crossed my arms over my chest, anticipating what came next.
— That's why they use a Log Pose, — Crocus said, pulling from his pocket a strange bracelet with a transparent orb. — It captures the magnetic field of the nearest island and points the way.
— And after that? — Karina asked.
— After that you wait for it to reset to the next island. On some it takes hours. On others — days. Sometimes months. And sometimes… years.
— What?! — Gin gasped, clutching his head.
— So, — Crocus smiled faintly, — think carefully about which path you choose. From Reverse Mountain, there are seven. But which one you can endure — that's for you to decide.
The waves battered the lighthouse, his words hanging heavy in the air.
— Which way is Whiskey Peak? — I asked, watching him.
Crocus turned to me, squinting.
— Oh… surprising. You've just set foot on the Grand Line, and you already know of Whiskey Peak… — he smirked slightly. — So, you must be the captain?
— Yeah, — I answered shortly, staring straight at him.
— Well then, captain, — the old man rose from his chair and walked to a chest by the lighthouse wall. The scrape of wood, the creak of the lid — and in a second he pulled out a small device with a transparent orb inside. — Here is your first Log Pose. Without it, you won't last long.
He slowly held it out to me, and I took it, feeling a strange weight…
— The Log Pose will show you the way to the nearest island. In your case… that's Whiskey Peak.
— Just what we need, — Sabo chuckled, but then frowned. — And what kind of place is it?
Crocus looked at him more carefully, as if deciding how much to reveal.
— Whiskey Peak… an island known for its hospitality. They love to celebrate the arrival of new pirates. Feasts, wine, music. But… — he paused for a moment and frowned slightly. — Too sweet a welcome often ends with a bitter morning hangover, he said meaningfully…
I squeezed the Log Pose in my hand and smirked.
— Got it. Thanks, old man.
— Hey, captain, — Auger cut in, eyeing the orb in the bracelet. — The needle points straight. If the wind's good, we'll reach it pretty fast.
— Fast isn't always good, — Gin muttered, but Sabo was already clapping him on the shoulder.
— Here comes our first true trial on the Grand Line! — he said with a grin. — Captain, lead the crew.
I stepped to the gangway, raised my hand and commanded:
— To the ship! Raise the sails! Our course — Whiskey Peak!
The crew roared, everyone started moving.
Crocus remained standing on the pier, calmly watching our bustle. When we had already pulled away from the lighthouse, his words reached me, cutting through the splash of waves:
— The Grand Line tests everyone. Let's see if you can withstand its trials.