Seb crouched low in the shadows of the wall, his sharp eyes scanning the patrols. Sloppy and predictable. He could read their movement in seconds.
When one pirate rounded the corner, Seb was already behind him, his blade flashed once, and the body slumped silently into the dirt.
He slipped through a loose plank in the wooden wall and kept to the shadows, weaving between tents and barrels until he reached the cage.
Coyote's head tilted as Seb approached, a sly grin forming on his bruised face
"Well, well… another fan come to see the show? You don't look like one of them."
Seb ignored the remark, sliding his sword between the rusty lock and twisting. It snapped with a dull crack.
"I was sent for you. Don't waste my time, move."
Coyote blinked, then laughed quietly. Even in chains, he voiced mischief.
"Sent for me? Hah… sounds like you've got the wrong guy. I'm just a stray dog the pirates picked up."
Seb yanked the cage door open and met his eyes, voice flat and cold.
"Then prove it. Come with me, or stay here and rot. Your choice."
For the first time, Coyote's grin faltered. He studied Seb's calm, unwavering gaze, then smirked again, this time with something sharper behind it.
"Alright, fine. You've piqued my curiosity."
Seb sliced through the chains with two precise strikes. Coyote flexed his freed wrist, rolling his shoulders as if testing old wounds. Then, without hesitation, he scooped up a pirate's dagger from the ground.
"You should've told me we were going to make a mess," Coyote whispered with a chuckle.
The sound of footsteps drew near. Seb's grip tightened on his sword.
"Quiet. Stay behind me until we're out."
"Sure, sure," Coyote said, though his wild grin suggested otherwise.
The camp was about to be drenched in chaos.
The footsteps grew louder, pirate's voices muttering about drinks and women.
Seb stepped forward, blade angled low, his whole frame calm and deliberate. Beside him, Coyote twirled the stolen dagger once, his grin widening.
Three pirates rounded the corner. They froze at the sight of the open cage.
Before they could shout, Seb was already moving. His sword arced once, clean, efficient. Two throats opened, their bodies collapsing. The third stumbled back, mouth wide in a scream, but Coyote was faster. His dagger flashed, sinking into the pirate's gut. He leaned close, whispering something only the dying man could hear before shoving him to the dirt.
"See?" Coyote chuckled, licking blood from his fingers like it was wine. "You lead, I improvise."
Seb shot him a sharp glare but didn't waste words. He moved, silent and precise, toward the shadows of the dock.
Coyote followed a step behind, his movements sloppy on purpose, like a drunk staggering home but every slash of his dagger landed with cruel precision. When Seb cut through patrols like a surgeon, Coyote danced through them like a madman, laughing as blood spattered across the dirt.
The alarm finally broke. Shouts rang out across the camp, torches flaring as more pirates rushed in.
Seb muttered under his breath, jaw tightening. "This is why I told you to stay quiet."
Coyote just grinned, baring teeth like a wolf. "Quiet is boring."
Together, the swordsman and the stray tore their way through the camp.
…
Organ Islands, Mayor's Office
At the heart of the island stood a three-storied building, the seat of authority where the Mayor's office and its many legal branches operated.
A sealed letter was carried straight through its halls, delivered without delay to the private floor reserved for the Mayor himself. It came to rest upon the polished oak desk at the center of his lavish office.
Moments later, Mayor Arthur entered, flanked by three maids… the newest additions he had so carelessly squandered his funds on.
His gaze fell on the envelope stamped with the white bat emblem. His brows arched, suspicion flashing across his face before he let out a long sigh. Slowly, he reached for it.
The memory of his last… unfortunate encounter with Sanemi Wayne was still fresh.
He tore it open and read.
"Dear Mayor,
It is of utmost importance you receive this letter and enforce it as soon as possible. The Wayne Group is preparing to acquire the abandoned warehouses located west of the harbor. We seek ownership of all six buildings, alongside the full land permits.
As a gesture of goodwill, the Wayne Group extends to you a bonus of 1,000,000 Berries.
Sincerely,
Chairman Sanemi Wayne
Wayne Group"
Arthur lowered the letter, expression unreadable. The room was silent except for the faint rustle of skirts as the maids stood waiting.
Then, with a slow nod, the Mayor leaned back in his chair. His lips curled upward into a grin one of those smiles that never reached the eyes.
"Send word to the Deputy Mayor," he ordered quietly, handing the letter off to one of the women.
Alone with his thoughts, Arthur chuckled under his breath. "Boy, I knew you had something else…"
…
The next day.
Sanemi sent word to all his employees, instructing them to bring along any siblings, friends, or relatives who were seeking work and willing to earn a salary.
"Liora, notify Marlow that he can move all of the experimental equipment to the abandoned warehouses," Sanemi said, seated at the long oval conference table in the tavern attic. "Also, hire a few laborers for the day, have them clean the warehouses before we officially begin early production."
The six warehouses, along with the full land permits, had been secured for three million berries. Not to mention the one million bonus sent to the Mayor, without it, negotiations could have dragged on for over a week.
Sanemi leaned back slightly, fingers steepled, and asked, "And how's the estimated profit margin looking per bottle?"
Liora tapped her pen against the papers spread across the table, her expression thoughtful. "Based on the current ingredients, brewing process, and expected demand, each bottle of Iron Bull should net roughly 150 berries in profit once production scales. That's without factoring in marketing or potential bulk orders from nearby islands."
Sanemi nodded, eyes narrowing as he calculated silently in his head. "Good. That means if we produce just a thousand bottles a week, the profit already covers a large portion of our initial investment. And that's just the start."
Sanemi resumed his thoughts after a moment. The current base price for a bottle of Iron Bull was 200 berries. If he wanted the entire East Blue to adopt it as their drink of choice, it would need to be priced lower, somewhere between 100 and 150 berries to accommodate the average citizen.
Still, with profit margins already sitting at an impressive 65–70%, it made sense to keep the price at 200 berries during the initial launch. Once the brand was established, he could introduce a more affordable drink to capture the broader market.
But he had to be quick, before the competition catches on.