Snow.
Lots of snow.
A blizzard, a strong wind—and it all hit suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch. Just two hours ago, the sea was calm, the sky clear.
— Hey-hey, we were sailing in good weather just an hour ago! What's happening here? — Karina mumbled from inside the hold, trying to shield herself from the biting cold.
Meanwhile, the guys and I were clearing the deck, which had been covered in a layer of snow in just a few minutes. Shovels, hands, even buckets—all were put to use.
— Hey, Sabo! What's the Log Pose showing? — I shouted, shielding my face from the icy flakes.
— Uh… nothing! Everything's okay! I checked ten minutes ago… DAMN! — Sabo abruptly went silent, looked at the needle, and his eyes widened. — We're going the wrong way! Turn us around! — he yelled, dropping the shovel and rushing to the helm.
I felt the cold seep into my bones, but even more pressing was the realization: we needed a helmsman.
Right now, each of us had multiple duties—both steering and constantly monitoring the ship's movement.
— A storm is coming! Lower the sails! — Sabo's voice cut through the wailing wind, and everyone sprang into action.
The ropes burned our palms, the sails flapped so violently it seemed they might tear from the masts at any moment. The wind gusted, knocking us off our feet, and the deck became increasingly slippery.
I clung to a rope, trying to maintain my balance. If even one of us falls overboard, I thought, finding them in this white chaos would be impossible.
The ship lurched violently, almost throwing me into the mast.Snow fell like a wall.The stormy sea began to rise.
— Keep a course southwest! — Sabo shouted, barely holding onto the wheel.
I lunged to help pull the sails, and at that moment thunder struck so close that the mast shivered.
Grand Line… what a place, I gritted my teeth, feeling adrenaline push out the last remnants of fatigue.
The ship was tossed on the waves like a splinter. The wind tore sideways. Ropes creaked, the mast groaned, sails flapped, and it felt like any second now everything could shatter into pieces.
We held on with every ounce of strength. Sabo gripped the wheel as if trying to tame a beast, Karina ran between crates in the hold, shouting about weight balance and securing them so they wouldn't go overboard. I, barely keeping my footing, hauled on a rope, cursing every flake of snow that lashed my face.
And then… suddenly.As if someone snapped their fingers.
The snowfall thinned.First, gaps appeared in the clouds, then cold light pierced the white veil, and in an instant, a clear blue sky spread above us.
Just moments ago—storm and death in every gust of wind. Now—sun, calm sea, and even the seagulls had returned.
— The weather's changing! — I shouted, looking around, but Sabo had already noticed.
He climbed the mast, squinted into the distance, and smirked:— We're approaching an island! Just like that old man said! Look ahead!
And indeed—the horizon began to outline shapes. First—dark shadows resembling stone cacti, then a whole chain of islands, seemingly grown into the sea.
We started slowing, and Sabo, with a blissful expression, scribbled something in his journal:— Approaching an island, the weather stabilizes. That means… there's a local anomaly here. I'll have to record it.
— Hey, Augur! Do you see anything? — I shouted, shielding my eyes from the sharp wind.
The sniper, in his usual composure, sat atop the lookout post, as if part of the mast itself. He slowly raised his rifle, shouldered it, and squinted through the scope.
— Hard to see… — he said quietly, then added louder: — The fog almost nullifies visibility. But it seems I can make out a river mouth. It leads straight into the island. Looks like that's where we're headed.
He held the rifle a few more seconds, as if verifying his own words, then slowly lowered it.
— Nothing interesting for now. All is calm.
— Sometimes trouble hides precisely in the fog, — muttered Gin, gripping his weapon.
The ship slowly entered the white veil of fog. The damp air clung to the skin, the deckboards creaked as if complaining about the moisture. Everything around seemed quiet, even the sea itself seemed hushed.
— Brr, creepy, — Karina hugged herself. — It's as if the island itself is waiting for us.
— Yep, and smiling, — Sabo smirked. — But I agree with Gin…
Then suddenly—Snap! As if someone pulled a curtain from the sky: the fog began to dissipate, and right before us a view opened. Along the bay's shores, buildings, rooftops, and dozens of lights shimmered in the twilight. Along the pier, people gathered—waving hands, blowing horns, waving flags.
— Welcome to the Grand Line!— Great wars of the sea!
People on the pier jumped, clapped, and whistled. The air was filled with a mixture of salt, smoke from fires, and loud voices.
— What's happening? Why are they all gathered here? — Sabo asked, peering through the crowd.
Even the cold and impassive Augur looked surprised, his eyes widening as he tried to make sense of the scene.
We slowly docked, the ship creaking as it settled on the anchor.
A man stepping onto the pier immediately drew attention: long, tousled hair, a headband, a half-shirt exposing his chest, star-patterned trousers, and a wide belt. Next to him stood a woman, a head taller, looking like she could easily overshadow him, though he seemingly didn't even notice.
— I am the mayor of this beautiful city, my name is Carly, — he began theatrically, stepping forward. — And this stunning woman beside me is my wonderful wife, Tuesday!
He made a strange, almost comical gesture, kissing Tuesday's hand as if demonstrating a "romantic ritual" to the crowd. I struggled to keep from laughing, trying to look serious.
— For us, the residents of Whiskey Peak, pirates are heroes! — the mayor continued, spreading his arms wide. — And we will throw a feast for you!
The crowd roared again, cheering and whistling, raising flags and torches.
— Follow me! — the mayor shouted, turning us toward the crowd.
— Hey, captain, he seems… suspicious… — Augur whispered to me.
— Yep, free food at their expense, — I muttered back, trying to hide my smile.
— Hey, how long will it take to set the Log Pose? — Karina asked cautiously, watching the scene.
— You'll find out later, — said the mayor, ignoring the question, taking a swig from a bottle as if confirming that everything was under control… or almost.
The crowd was already setting tables, bringing food and drinks, and we didn't waste time.
— Looks fun, — muttered Gin, — but something bothers me. They're too cheerful for just a meeting with pirates.
"Twenty Minutes Later"
The feast at Whiskey Peak turned into a spectacle. Tables groaned under the weight of food: roasted meat, grilled fish, mountains of vegetables, sauces, and spices. At the edges were barrels of alcohol, blending the smell of strong drinks with smoke from fires.
Gin had already found his entertainment: arm-wrestling with the locals, and as you can imagine, they didn't stand much of a chance. The crowd gathered around, jumping and shouting, placing bets on who would win. Gin pretended to strain, furrowing his brow, gripping his opponent's hand, while the guy opposite tried to push back even a little.
Augur, surprisingly, adapted to the feast atmosphere easily. He, as if it were training, poured alcohol by the buckets, never letting go of his rifle. Occasionally, he took small sips, as if checking the proof, and quietly smirked when a local tried to guess how much he had already drunk.
Sabo and Karina walked among the tables, chatting with guests. Sabo seemed to be studying sailors' tales of past adventures, while Karina asked questions about local customs and crafts, as if gathering information for future journeys.
I, meanwhile, completely immersed myself in gastronomic delight. I tried meat cooked over open flames, pieces that simply melted in my mouth, and spices that burned my tongue yet made me crave more. Occasionally, I looked up and observed the crew: Gin still wrestling, Augur gulping down another bucket of alcohol in surprise, Sabo and Karina laughing with new acquaintances.
Night fell unnoticed, and we, exhausted, collapsed onto the cabin floor. The dim lamp cast long shadows on the wooden walls, while the smell of food and rum still lingered in the air.
— Eh… they ate up our monthly supply of rum and food, — a voice muttered from the darkness, barely audible. — We should've taken them out in the port.
— Jumping to conclusions… — a woman's soft, almost whispering voice replied, rolling onto her other side.
— Sweetheart, so what did you find? — a slightly more cheerful voice asked, tinged with curiosity, as if even in this darkness the anxiety had softened.
— Two of them received decent rewards, — she replied, lifting herself slightly, — we'll be able to recover everything and even get a promotion…