"Fried silver cod chunks, just 20 Berries!"
"Fresh mangosteen! Take some home to try!"
"The latest Noland: The Untold Tale! Full of thrills, want to take a look, sir?"
"Fresh blackfish straight from the river! We've got swimming crabs, hammer shrimp, and all kinds of shellfish! Come take a look!"
…
The bustling street was packed with people.
Dirty water flowed freely over cobblestone and gravel-paved roads, trash was strewn everywhere, and the buildings on either side were mostly old and run-down, none more than three stories tall.
The whole place felt chaotic, with the noisy clamor of hawkers ringing constantly in the ears.
Cross scanned the street: hawkers shouting, hurried pedestrians brushing past, porters hauling goods, there was even someone selling lewd magazines out in the open.
A street con artist even had the gall to try selling him a map to the "City of Gold," promising guaranteed riches. As if he'd fall for that kind of scam.
No one in the world knows more about where the City of Gold is than I do!
"Hey, Cricket, off to look for the City of Gold again? Hahahaha!"
"Hey, liar's descendant, buy anything today?"
"Hey Cricket! I've got a map to the City of Gold, see if it matches where your great ancestor Noland went!"
"HAHAHAHA—HAHAHAHA!"
Suddenly, a chorus of raucous laughter rang out ahead.
Cross looked over to see a group of street peddlers ridiculing a young man with a diamond-shaped face and a chestnut sprouting from his head.
"Shut up! Ancestor Noland absolutely wasn't a liar!" the young man shouted, face red with anger. "You people know nothing! Noland was the pride of the Mont Blanc family, not some fool spinning tall tales!"
As the argument between the youth and the hawkers escalated, General Humil said with mild surprise, "So the Mont Blanc line still lives on in this world?"
Cross silently nodded, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully on the young man.
If he wasn't mistaken, that was none other than Mont Blanc Cricket, the direct descendant of Mont Blanc Noland from 400 years ago.
In the original story, he was the one who dove into the ocean off Jaya Island for years on end, searching for the truth of the City of Gold to clear his ancestor's name.
"Mont Blanc Cricket… huh. Never thought I'd run into him here," Cross murmured, a strange wave of emotion stirring inside him. The encounter felt oddly surreal.
"Are you alright, Count Cross? We can always reschedule the transaction for tomorrow if needed," General Humil said, noticing the slight shift in Cross's expression and voicing his concern.
"I'm fine," Cross said with a shake of the head and a smile. "Just surprised, that's all. Never thought I'd actually run into Noland's descendant."
"Same here. I thought even if the Mont Blanc family wasn't completely wiped out, they must've long since left the Lvneel Kingdom. After all, thanks to the legend of 'The Great Liar Noland,' the entire kingdom's been made a laughingstock among the nations of the North Blue," General Humil said with a sigh, nodding in agreement.
"Alright, let's find a hotel and get settled in first. I don't want to spend another night sleeping on a rocking ship," Cross said, watching Cricket argue heatedly with the vendors. He had no intention of telling the young man the truth.
Because, in his eyes, Noland hadn't been quite as noble as the legends claimed. If Noland had truly wanted to help the Shandians, he wouldn't have brought the King and army of the Lvneel Kingdom with him to Jaya Island in the name of finding the City of Gold.
And Cross certainly didn't believe Noland was naïve enough to think a king, who sailed halfway across the world from the North Blue to the Grand Line in search of gold, would just look at a mountain of treasure and walk away empty-handed. That was ridiculous.
Think about it, if the other half of Jaya hadn't been launched into the White-White Sea by the Knock-Up Stream, then when Noland returned with his greedy gold-seekers and encountered the Shandians... well, history books have documented what came next. Just flip back a few pages.
At that moment, a furious Cricket, unable to outargue the mob, lost his temper. Young and brash, he charged into the crowd, throwing punches with surprising skill.
Say what you will, his fists were far more convincing than his words. Fighting off a group all by himself, he held his own without missing a beat, forcing the vendors to flee in panic. The entire street was thrown into chaos.
BEEEP—BEEEP!
Suddenly, sharp whistles pierced the air.
A squad of patrolling soldiers rushed over. Their leader blew his whistle furiously, raising his baton and shouting at Cricket with a trembling hand.
"Stop right there, you bastard!"
"Go to hell, you thug!"
Cricket didn't flinch. He slugged the unconscious man in his grip one last time, cursed under his breath, then turned and bolted. In the blink of an eye, he'd disappeared into a nearby alley.
Watching it all unfold, Cross chuckled under his breath. That guy's definitely got personality.
Leaving the street behind, Cross and General Humil found a large hotel within the city and checked in.
It was only around ten in the morning, they weren't about to just sit around waiting for afternoon, and they certainly weren't planning to leave Lvneel Kingdom the moment their business concluded.
They'd come all this way, after all. Might as well take in the local scenery. Consider it a government-funded vacation.
…
At 3:00 p.m., with the sun blazing overhead, most people sought shelter in the shade, unwilling to move in the sweltering heat.
Cross and General Humil, accompanied by over a dozen royal guards, made their way to the grove of palm trees east of the city walls. Just as expected, they spotted a long red-brick building, topped with deep green tiles.
Dozens of rugged men loitered around the structure, their faces hard and scarred. They were armed with cutlasses, flintlocks, hand axes, clearly the kind of men who lived outside the law.
On the white sandstone ground were stains of a deep brown hue. Cross and Humil exchanged a glance, they both recognized the dried traces of blood immediately.
"Looks like we're in the right place," Cross said with a smile.
"Whew…" General Humil exhaled deeply and strode forward with the others.
Before long, a tall, wiry man stepped in their path, blocking their advance. He looked them up and down with open hostility. "Hold it. What're you here for?"
The man was shirtless, his chest tattooed with a black skull and a roaring bear's head. An X-shaped scar marked his right side. He wore loose grey cropped pants and had a katana strapped to his waist. His muscles were defined, his posture sharp, and a faint air of menace surrounded him.
Even Cross gave him a second glance.
"We were sent by Joker," General Humil replied, meeting the man's eyes unflinchingly. "We already spoke with 'Postman' by Den Den Mushi this morning."