Ryoma then turned and ducked into a relatively secluded alley. After several twists and turns, he found an inconspicuous small tavern.
He pushed the door open. The tavern was dimly lit, with only a few scattered patrons, mostly merchants who traveled by sea.
"Damn it! What bad luck!"
As soon as Ryoma sat down at the bar, he heard a merchant at the next table slam his glass down, his face full of indignation.
"Are those Marines crazy? They just lock it down, surrounding the entire dock. My cargo is waiting to be loaded and shipped. Now it's all ruined."
Another patron chimed in, "I heard a big shot is coming. What an extravagant display. They don't care about the livelihoods of us common folk."
"Quiet down. Are you trying to get yourself killed? I heard even a Vice Admiral from Marine Headquarters is here this time."
Ryoma ordered a mug of ale and listened silently.
The entire dock is sealed off? This situation seemed a bit more troublesome than he had anticipated.
Should he consider leaving after just one look around?
Meanwhile, on the deck of a lavish cruise ship off the coast of Loguetown.
A corpulent man, wearing a transparent bubble helmet, held a diamond-encrusted telescope, gazing at the increasingly close outline of the town.
He lowered the telescope, his tone full of disdain and contempt. "That pirate king died in this kind of rural place? How pathetic."
Onigumo, behind him, bowed slightly, his posture extremely respectful. "Yes, Saint Charlimako. Do you require your subordinate to clear out all the commoners in town in advance for your private viewing of the execution platform?"
Charlimako parted his thick lips, revealing an ugly smile, his bloated face scrunched up.
"Clear the area? How boring."
"I want those commoners to witness the divine majesty. Pass my order: lay a red carpet from the dock all the way to that execution platform. Make all the commoners on both sides of the street kneel on the ground and revere my arrival."
He seemed to think this was an excellent idea and clapped his hands excitedly.
"Oh! And find a few more good-looking slaves. I want to ride on their backs. Wahahaha!"
This absurd order was clearly transmitted via Den Den Mushi to the deck of the escorting Warship behind.
Smoker stood at the bow, listening to the order coming from the Den Den Mushi, the two cigars in his mouth almost bitten through. Thick smoke uncontrollably billowed from him, enveloping his entire body, radiating suppressed fury.
A cold gaze was cast from the nearby Marine Headquarters Warship. Onigumo, holding the Den Den Mushi, coldly swept his eyes over Smoker.
"Captain Smoker, you are responsible for maintaining order on both sides of the red carpet."
Onigumo's voice was utterly devoid of emotion, as if giving a perfectly normal instruction.
"Remember, any commoner who dares to look up at Saint Charlimako will be arrested on the spot for disrespect."
Smoker's teeth ground together. He knew very well that Onigumo's words were the final warning, given out of respect for their shared past as students of Zephyr.
Arrest?
What a ridiculous word.
The Celestial Dragons' guards wouldn't be so gentle. Any commoner who knelt too slowly or even made a slight sound would be executed on the spot.
But what could he do?
Resist? And then have his subordinates, who trusted him, sent to a military court or even killed on the spot?
Smoke surged, and finally, all the anger and unwillingness transformed into a single word squeezed from deep within his throat.
"...Yes."
The order quickly reached Loguetown.
At the port, the commander of the Loguetown Marine base, with a solemn expression, read out the orders to the Marines who had already lined up.
"Saint Charlimako of the Celestial Dragons demands that a red carpet be laid from the dock all the way to the execution platform square. All shops along the street must close immediately."
A young Marine in the ranks, his face filled with fear and unease, tremblingly raised his hand.
"Commander... what... what if someone kneels too slowly?"
The commander fell silent for a moment, avoiding the young soldier's gaze, and spoke with difficulty, "Vice Admiral Onigumo will handle all unexpected situations."
The warship slowly docked, and the heavy gangplank was lowered.
Smoker was the first to stride down, his white 'Justice' coat flapping in the sea breeze, but that word now seemed incredibly ironic.
"Captain!"
Smoker's subordinate in Loguetown immediately stepped forward to salute, a trace of unconcealed worry on his face.
"The port has been completely locked down as requested... all ships have been cleared."
Smoker uncharacteristically gave no response, not even looking at him. His gaze swept over the crowd, fixed intently on the distant, glaring red carpet being rapidly unrolled.
White smoke uncontrollably seeped from him in wisps, proof of his intense emotional fluctuations.
The subordinate looked at his tense profile and reminded him worriedly in a low voice, "Captain, your hand... is shaking."
Smoker suddenly clenched his fist, his knuckles making a faint cracking sound from the excessive force.
He finally withdrew his gaze and commanded in a hoarse voice, "Go patrol West Street. There are many elderly people in that area. Remind them to close their doors and windows, and absolutely do not come out."
The subordinate nodded heavily, acknowledged the order, and left.
A moment later, the crimson carpet was fully laid out.
Charlimako, riding leisurely on the back of a young slave, stepped onto the red carpet.
The slave was on all fours, a luxurious cushion on his back, his eyes vacant, not daring to make a sound.
On both sides of the red carpet, rows of Marine soldiers stood with their backs to the carpet, facing the street, forming a human wall.
Behind the human wall, the residents of Loguetown were forced to kneel on the cold stone pavement, each with their heads bowed, the street dead silent.
Many parents desperately held down their children's heads, preventing them from looking up out of curiosity, which would invite deadly disaster.
The entire Loguetown, this town of freedom and dreams that ushered in the Great Pirate Era, was now shrouded in an unprecedented atmosphere of fear.