Doc Q finally finished his work. Even though he looked half-dead himself, his medical skill was still trustworthy.
While treating the wounds, he kept muttering the name of his beloved horse—"Stronger"—wondering whether it could endure the cold weather in the stable.
The remaining rotten flesh around Van Augur's left eye had been excavated. The wound was cleaned up and then wrapped in thick bandages. It would take him a long time to get used to being a one-eyed man.
"I'll have someone make you a black eyepatch… or maybe a golden prosthetic eye." Teach patted Van Augur's shoulder with his big, rough hands and comforted him. "Pirates lose limbs all the time. Missing an eye or an arm is normal. Think of it as your badge of honor."
"Hopefully," Van Augur muttered, lips pressed thin, still furious—far from calming down.
Teach grabbed his shoulders and gave him a hard shake, making him look up. "Tell me everything you saw earlier."
Vasco suddenly burst into laughter, slapping his large belly as he spoke. "Admiral 'Blackbeard,' shouldn't you be asking what he saw with his right eye? His left eye can't see a thing anymore!"
"What did you say?!" Van Augur's neck flushed red. He shot up from his seat and raised his long sniper rifle. He was so fragile now he couldn't endure even the slightest mockery.
"With just one damn eye I can still blow your big beer-keg body apart!"
Burgess, Lafitte, and Doc Q all glared at Vasco. The four of them had followed Teach the longest and were far closer to each other.
By contrast, Vasco, Devon, and Pizarro had only joined mid-journey after breaking out of Impel Down's Level Six. To them, Van Augur's injury was just something funny to watch.
Shiryu, on the other hand, neither helped nor hindered. He simply drank his whiskey quietly, as if detached from this world, unwilling to let anyone see his inner thoughts.
As for Diamante, he watched the internal conflict with interest, wondering if he could make use of it to secure more advantages for Doflamingo within their "pirate alliance."
"Everyone shut the hell up!" Teach wrapped his arms around Van Augur, forcing the sniper's gun down before turning to Vasco—who stared back without fear. "Vasco, stop stirring things up. Did you forget our shared ambition? Did you forget why I freed you from the bottom of Impel Down?"
Vasco hiccupped drunkenly, turned his head aside with a dismissive pout, but at least didn't add fuel to the fire.
Teach whispered a few calming words to Van Augur and pushed him back down into his seat. But Van Augur's chest still heaved rapidly—his rage far from settled.
"If I were captain," Pizarro said suddenly into the heavy silence, "today's mess would never have happened."
No one knew which "mess" he meant—the loss of Van Augur's eye, Jote's provocation, or the alliance between Davy Jones and the Whitebeard remnants.
Maybe all of the above. Pizarro's mind jumped around unpredictably.
Everyone, however, knew one thing: Pizarro was ambitious. He wanted to overthrow Teach, become the "admiral," the "captain."
But no one responded to his ambition.
Partly because Pizarro was far less reliable than Teach. And partly because everyone had ambitions of their own—but none of them were foolish enough to say it aloud like Pizarro.
The admiral's seat can rotate—but this year it's definitely not his turn.
Teach asked again about Davy Jones and the Whitebeard remnants. This time Van Augur relayed everything in detail, still sullen as he spoke.
"This time it's not a false alarm. Davy Jones is really here." Devon puffed out her ample chest—but her sharply angular face ruined any charm. "Blackbeard, what will you do?"
Lafitte tapped his cane rhythmically against the floor. "David Jones already showed hostility by attacking Van Augur. And even without that… the Whitebeard remnants hate us deeply. They'll definitely urge him to attack."
"I say we fight!" Van Augur snapped—whether out of reason or sheer anger, even he couldn't tell. "Davy Jones didn't bring his full crew, and the Whitebeard remnants are nothing but trash. Their so-called fleet is just ten broken ships—one strike and they'll fall apart!"
"Even without his crew, Davy Jones is one of the 'New Three Emperors.'" Pizarro stroked the light-blue fur on his chin, hesitating. "Ace, Marco, Jozu, Vista… they're no small threat either."
Burgess pounded his metal arm. "We weren't afraid of Whitebeard when we tried to steal the Gura Gura no Mi. Why start fearing Davy Jones now?"
"Though I'm an outsider, I say: fight." Diamante spread open the petal-shaped hood around his head and grinned. "If Doffy were here, he'd agree. He hates weak allies."
Here, Diamante was simply talking nonsense. He'd long disliked Davy Jones, who often ruined the Donquixote Family's plans.
So now that Davy Jones had come without his main fleet, Diamante felt it was heaven-sent—an opportunity to crush him.
And even if they lost, only the Blackbeard Pirates would suffer heavy casualties. Diamante mulled that comfortably in his mind.
The opinions in the hall were divided. Several had yet to speak. Teach observed them closely before making his decision, placing both hands on the round table.
"We'll vote." He grinned, baring two rows of uneven teeth. "Those in favor of attacking Davy Jones and the Whitebeard Pirates—raise your hand."
Van Augur raised his hand first. Burgess, Lafitte, and Doc Q followed, then Devon. Even Vasco raised his hand.
"I'm curious to see whether we can kill one of the 'New Three Emperors' and take his place," the drunken Vasco slurred, dripping malicious excitement.
Shiryu raised his hand too, and even Diamante joined in just for fun.
Realizing he was outnumbered, Pizarro rolled his eyes and reluctantly lifted his hand. "I've always been in the pro-war camp."
"It seems everyone agrees." Teach cracked his neck, producing sharp popping sounds. "Next, we discuss how to fight this battle—"
BOOM—
Suddenly, the sound of cannon fire ripped through the air—the first blast abrupt, followed by rapid, earth-shaking barrages.
Teach froze, then strode toward the window. Through the foggy, snow-blurred glass, he looked toward the harbor.
"What now? What's happening?"
No one could answer—until a pirate burst in, collapsed to his knees.
"Admiral Blackbeard!"
His face was pale with terror. "We're under attack! Eleven ships bombarding the harbor! The firepower is overwhelming!"
Teach's expression darkened instantly. He turned and reached out—the pirate flew into his grasp. Teach clamped a massive hand around the man's throat.
"Are you kidding me?! Where are our scouts? Our defenses? Is everyone asleep? How do the enemy reach our doorstep before anyone reports it?!"
Veins bulged on his forehead. One mishap after another ruined his plans—sending his temper spiraling—and incompetence from his subordinates infuriated him even more.
What use were scouts and defenses if no one reported anything?
But this time, he was wrong.
The pirate, terrified and choking, gulped desperately and forced out words between coughs:
"They… they came from the seafloor…"
From the seafloor?!
Teach immediately understood.
Was fate mocking him with some ridiculous, ironic joke?
The Whitebeard remnants had copied Whitebeard's old tactic from the Marineford War—rising from the deep—slipping into the harbor under Davy Jones' command, without anyone noticing?
Teach heard a sobbing sound—felt someone clawing at his fingers, punching his arm.
When he came back to himself… the pirate in his grip had already died.
He let go. The body collapsed like a deflated balloon.
"So." Teach turned toward the others, face ashen. "This battle is unavoidable now. We can't let them swagger around any longer."
Debt tally: Owe 1/4 chapter
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