"It's still far from that. I've only just joined. Sure, I've managed to get work down at the docks, but I don't have any real say in anything yet. How could I possibly 'cover' you there? I can't even move the goods we have. For now, it's better to stick to small trades in the city. How's that honeycomb coal idea I mentioned to you before coming along?" Aaron said.
Still, his initial plan was already on track. He had successfully joined the Akio Gang and even secured the position he wanted most—work at the docks. From here on, all he had to do was follow the steps he'd originally laid out.
But that alone wasn't enough. Whether it was Aaron, Shuma, or Williams, all three of them were eager to get stronger—eager to finish their revenge as soon as possible.
Any small crew that wants to grow stronger needs one thing without exception—money.
The problem was, the three of them were newcomers in this port city. They hadn't yet established themselves. With no power and no influence, getting rich quick here was simply impossible.
In the two weeks since arriving at Villia Port, they'd managed to scrape together only a small amount of wealth—most of it from Aaron taking the risk of helping the Akio Gang with smuggling.
Shuma had even suggested going back to his old ways—borrowing, or rather swindling, money from the city's wealthy residents—but Aaron immediately shot the idea down.
The reason was simple: stealing was too risky.
There's always a bigger fish. Even though Shuma's thieving skills were decent, there were surely plenty of others in this city even better than him. The moment he targeted a wealthy or influential person, his unfamiliar face would quickly catch the attention of the city's "Golden Fingers" network.
If that happened, he'd be facing not just competition from rivals but also the hatred of the locals—and the retaliation of his victims.
In short, stealing might be fast money, but it was completely incompatible with Aaron's long-term plans here.
For now, Aaron had given Shuma only one task: gather information.
Thanks to his Paper-Paper Fruit, Shuma could create small origami creatures to act as his eyes and ears, making it easy to gather valuable intel.
At this point in time, Drum Kingdom had not yet fallen under Wapol's rule, nor had it been destroyed by the Blackbeard Pirates. It was still a prosperous nation.
Ever since the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger, was executed and the Great Pirate Era began, the seas had fallen into chaos. Injuries and casualties were constant, and the demand for medicine skyrocketed.
As one of the world's most renowned medical nations, Drum Kingdom reaped enormous profits from exporting high-quality medicine, ushering in an era of unprecedented prosperity.
Villia Port was the kingdom's largest port city. Every day, countless merchant ships docked here, with cargo throughput exceeding 100,000 tons daily.
This meant the docks were always swarming with people of all kinds—"a motley mix of fish and dragons," as the saying went. Among them were many pirates, disguising their ships as merchant vessels to slip in for supplies or repairs.
Aaron's reason for sending Shuma to the docks was simple—hunt down those pirates hiding in plain sight, sell their information to bounty hunters, or even uncover commercial secrets.
To Aaron, making money through information sales was the perfect job for Shuma right now.
Unfortunately, the intel trade required both luck and reputation. As a newcomer, Shuma hadn't made much profit from it yet—though some business secrets he had overheard had allowed the sharp-minded Williams to turn a small profit.
…
"I see… that's a pity," Williams said with mild regret. "I've already found a pharmacist—just an apprentice, but skilled enough to make basic healing medicines. If you had influence at the docks, I could use the money we've saved to set up a small workshop right away. We'd make a fortune—those wealthy pirates who value their lives over their gold would buy them for sure.
"As for the honeycomb coal, it's basically done, except it's not smokeless yet. Probably because we haven't found the perfect raw material. But don't worry—it's not a hard product to make. We'll fix that soon enough."
Over the past two weeks, Williams and Aaron had worked hard, building up a savings of 200,000 Berries—enough to be called their starting capital.
Yesterday, Williams had finally convinced a penniless pharmacist to join them. All he needed now was for Aaron to secure protection within the Akio Gang's docks, and they could start selling medicine for a massive profit.
In Villia Port, medicine was like gold—it would sell without question.
Unfortunately, that plan would have to wait.
Just as Aaron had said, without some authority over the Akio Gang's docks, the medicine business wouldn't survive.
The pharmaceutical trade in Drum Kingdom was already monopolized by major conglomerates. A small-time merchant like Williams, without a backer, would lose both goods and money before even leaving the docks—possibly even his life.
"Don't rush it. The pharmaceutical business in Drum Kingdom runs deep—we can't touch it yet. Keep working on small trades and developing the honeycomb coal. Winter's coming, and since it's a new product with no competition, we're bound to make a good profit."
Seeing the disappointment on Williams' face, Aaron patted his shoulder encouragingly.
Then he turned to Shuma. "How's your recruitment going?"
After starting his intel-gathering work, Shuma realized doing it alone was too slow. He had asked Aaron for more manpower to help.
Aaron valued intel highly—it could be invaluable in finding the Swallow-Swallow Fruit in the future, or even saving their lives. Without hesitation, he approved Shuma's request and provided generous funding. In fact, half of the money he and Williams had earned in the past two weeks had gone into it.
Shuma didn't disappoint. So far, he had assembled an intel team of about ten members—all orphans from the slums, hand-picked by him, each under the age of ten.
"Not bad," Shuma replied honestly. "Two of them are already somewhat usable."
"Good. And remember—keep up their ideological training. It's important. They're the seedlings you've worked hard to raise—you can't let them grow crooked."
Shuma's expression hardened. "Of course. If they do… I'll cut them down myself."
Satisfied with that promise, Aaron poured each of them a cup of hot milk before stepping outside into the cold little courtyard to begin his daily training.
Soon, he was moving through a series of strange motions—almost like a special kind of yoga. His limbs and torso bent and twisted in ways that would seem impossible to normal people, all while he maintained a steady breathing rhythm as he moved along the ground.