Sabo's mouth hung open as he stared at the line of sky lanterns rising from the stern of the ship. "This is..."
William gently pressed down on his top hat, watching with amusement as Sabo hurriedly adjusted it back into place. "Have you seen these before?"
"I have," Sabo nodded, his tone no longer as stiff as when he first boarded the ship. "But I've never seen so many at once. Why does the ship have so many sky lanterns?"
William gave a knowing smile but didn't answer. At that moment, a crew member approached, holding a Transponder Snail.
"Hello? Sherlock?" William raised an eyebrow as he answered the call, chuckling. "Home already?"
"Yes, I've arrived," Sherlock's deep voice came through from the bow of the ship.
In the East Blue, Navia Kingdom, White Pine Town.
This was Sherlock's hometown and the birthplace of the Flash Gold Guild.
At the moment, the town's harbor was entirely occupied by four warships, leaving no room for any other vessels to dock. Surrounded by an entourage, Sherlock descended from the deck of one of the ships.
On the other end of the Transponder Snail, William chuckled darkly. "Since it's been so long since you've returned home, we might as well make it a grand occasion."
Before Sherlock could respond, the four warships suddenly fired a synchronized volley of cannon shots. The deafening noise startled the crowd gathered to welcome him at the harbor.
Sherlock pursed his lips, feeling a mix of emotions. He knew William wasn't one to indulge in superficial displays, yet he had orchestrated this spectacle to restore the honor and dignity that Sherlock and his family had lost when they were forced to flee their hometown in disgrace.
Handing the Transponder Snail to an attendant, Sherlock turned his gaze to the line of local elites standing on the shore.
These individuals, all of whom had once had varying degrees of connection to the Flash Gold Guild and Sherlock's family, now wore expressions of feigned enthusiasm. Yet their poorly concealed unease, amplified by the recent cannon fire, betrayed their true feelings.
Behind Sherlock was a long procession, many of whom were armed. This only heightened the tension among the local elites.
"Do you think Sherlock plans to take revenge on us?" someone whispered nervously to their companion.
"He wouldn't dare, would he? We're deeply rooted here. Does he really think he can wipe us all out?"
Before they could speculate further, Sherlock and his group reached the front of the crowd.
The town mayor, who had organized this welcoming committee, stood at the very front, extending both hands toward Sherlock with a warm smile. However, Sherlock ignored him completely.
Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Sherlock cast a cold glance at the mayor and the people behind him. He then pointed at the mayor and said to Edmond, who stood beside him, "This is the town mayor."
Although Sherlock was deeply trusted by William, he held no military authority. The only ones who could command William's armed forces were individuals like Edmond, who had been granted William's explicit approval.
Edmond tilted his head slightly toward the soldiers behind him, and a few of them immediately stepped forward, pinning the mayor to the ground.
"What are you doing?!"
The situation escalated so quickly that the locals didn't have time to react. The mayor was swiftly handcuffed, and the sheriff standing behind him erupted in anger, reaching for the pistol at his waist.
But before he could draw his weapon, Edmond's right hand flashed, his blade unsheathing in an instant. The sheriff froze as the tip of Edmond's katana pressed against his chin, his fingers just barely brushing the grip of his gun.
"This doesn't concern you. Don't move," Edmond said coldly, applying a slight pressure with his blade to lift the sheriff's chin.
Behind Edmond, the soldiers raised their guns, aiming them at the locals gathered on the dock. Faced with the ominous sight of countless gun barrels, no one dared make a move.
Sherlock pulled a parchment from his coat, unfolding it slowly before displaying its contents to the crowd. "This is an official decree from the Kingdom's First Minister, Morgan Stolt William. It states that the mayor of White Pine Town is implicated in the rebellion that occurred in Kalmar City three months ago, orchestrated by Rielde. He is to be arrested immediately and interrogated on the spot."
The local elites exchanged nervous glances, their faces growing even paler. One of the charges against Rielde was his violation of the prohibition laws and his control of the underground liquor trade. But in this town, was there a single notable figure who wasn't entangled in the illegal alcohol business?
The presence of four warships, effectively sealing off the town's sea routes, only deepened the sense of foreboding among the local elites.
...
Later that night, Sherlock and Edmond stood outside an abandoned villa. Edmond glanced around cautiously, while Sherlock gazed at the building with a melancholic expression.
This villa, burned down by Sherlock years ago, had once belonged to his family. Perhaps because it was family property, or perhaps because people had died there, no one had bothered to clean it up even after all this time.
In the distance, the harbor area began to glow with the light of fires, accompanied by sporadic gunfire carried on the wind.
Sherlock remained still. Edmond glanced at him and asked, "They couldn't resist making a move already?"
Sherlock sneered. "Their guilty conscience got the better of them. Fine. We'll use this as an opportunity to give them a harsh lesson. Otherwise, these slippery types will never behave themselves. They might not openly defy us, but they're experts at dragging their feet. That would only hinder our plan to turn this place into a free trade zone."
"A free trade zone? What's that supposed to mean?" Edmond scratched his head. "You, William, and Dampier are always coming up with these ideas. I can't make sense of any of it."
"You don't need to understand. Just know that this place is going to become a tax haven and money-laundering paradise in the East Blue," Sherlock said with a chuckle. "Pirates can't be eradicated entirely. The world is what it is—we can't change it with just one fleet or one nation. But William believes we can try to strangle the pirates financially, using economic control alongside military deterrence to influence them."
Edmond frowned slightly. "But isn't this a critical time? Won't this affect William's reputation?"
"William doesn't make mistakes. If there's a problem, it's with the people below him," Sherlock replied with an unwavering smile. "The new bank we're establishing here won't be called the Morgan Bank or the Four Seas Bank. It'll be the Flash Gold Bank. The supporters and builders will be me and others, not William. If anyone wants to criticize, they'll be criticizing me. As time goes on, people will get used to it, and by then, it won't matter anymore."
As they were speaking, a young officer from the youth army approached at a brisk pace.
"Sir, there's been a rebellion at the harbor. Armed individuals attempted to seize the ships. The criminals have been subdued. Forty-seven enemies were killed, and we sustained no casualties," the officer reported, saluting sharply.
Edmond, like many of William's subordinates, had grown increasingly fond of these young officers from the youth army. Loyal, disciplined, and methodical in their actions, they were a stark contrast to the lax demeanor of pirates. Though they might lack strength and combat experience for now, their conduct was undeniably impressive.
After returning the salute and giving some additional orders, Edmond waited for the young officer to leave before turning to Sherlock with a grin. "Should we go meet these so-called 'prominent figures' of the town?"
He emphasized the term "prominent figures" with a mocking tone.
Sherlock understood the sarcasm and smirked, his expression turning icy. "No. Let them stew in fear for another night. These people only respect strength. They need to understand that we're here to enforce William's orders, not to negotiate with them. Disobedience leads to death."
Edmond glanced at Sherlock, unable to tell whether his words were entirely genuine or tinged with a desire for revenge.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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