"If you're in the Navy, you'd better know how to make a little extra on the side. Otherwise, life's so damn miserable you might as well go be a pirate instead!"
"Lord Brian is absolutely right!"
"As for catching pirates, just round up a few when you've got time. If all the pirates are gone, wouldn't that mean the Navy's out of work?"
"Lord Brian is absolutely right!"
"Uh… what was I saying just now? Oh, right—where's my sexy lady? Why isn't she here drinking with me yet?!"
It was summer—bright sun, clear skies, and a gentle sea breeze brushing away the heat.
At this very moment, inside the West Blue Navy's 243rd Branch Base, a man was staggering about with a barrel of liquor in hand, drunk out of his mind.
He had short, jet-black hair like polished pearls, and a face as sharply defined as chiseled stone. Standing nearly two meters tall, his bare upper body revealed solid muscles—not exaggerated like a bodybuilder's, but just enough to give him a perfectly balanced physique.
If not for the drunken stupor, with that "Justice" cape now trampled beneath his boots, this man would have looked every bit the imposing figure of a true naval officer.
His name was Brian, age twenty-three—colonel, and commanding officer of the Navy's 243rd Branch.
Don't let his age fool you. At just twenty-three, Brian already held a colonel's rank. If not for his endless list of disciplinary violations back in the Naval Academy, he'd likely have been rising smoothly through Headquarters by now—instead of being stuck for life out here in the West Blue.
After all, a rank in a local branch carried far less weight than one from Headquarters. A branch colonel barely equaled a Headquarters captain—if that.
At that moment, a young lieutenant messenger cautiously approached Brian, leaned close, and whispered:
"Lord Brian, Governor Karl just sent a fax."
Brian, reeking of booze, hiccupped as he mumbled,
"Fax…? What's he want? Is… is he promoting me? Making me fortress commander?"
A fortress commander of the West Blue—that would be a rear admiral's rank!
The messenger forced an awkward smile and said,
"Governor Karl asks that you come to the Governor's Office in person, sir. He says there's an important matter to discuss."
"Not a promotion? Then I'm not going. Tell him I'm busy… busy clearing out pirates. Real busy. If he's got something to say, he can come find me himself."
Brian shoved the poor messenger aside, then burst out laughing and swaggered over to the troupe of singers and dancers who had just entered the base, treating military discipline as if it didn't exist.
The four women showed no resistance at all; on the contrary, they smiled and played along. The young colonel was notoriously generous—each of them would walk away with no less than 500,000 Berries after an evening's "entertainment."
As the saying goes: A rotten general breeds rotten troops.
Or, to put it another way: If the upper beam is crooked, the lower beams can't be straight.
A commander like that could only produce soldiers just like him.
"What an utter disgrace of a soldier!"
The base secretary trembled with fury. He had served here for thirty-five years—just a civilian clerk, yes, but after decades under the Navy's banner, he could recite the military code backward.
Yet ever since Brian had been transferred here a year ago, everything had changed.
Drinking, gambling, brawling, corruption—he'd turned the branch base into a den of chaos.
Unlike the East Blue, known as the weakest of the four, the West, South, and North Blue seas had long produced countless infamous pirates who terrorized entire regions.
Ever since Gol D. Roger ushered in the Great Pirate Era, pirate numbers in those seas had exploded—raids became bolder, plundering more rampant. Because of that, the Governors of the West, South, and North Blue all held the rank of vice admiral, each empowered to build fortresses and appoint base commanders independently.
In the West Blue, at the Seventh Branch Base—the seat of the West Blue Naval Governor's Office—Governor Karl was rubbing his temples, frustrated beyond measure.
His old mentor, Admiral Zephyr, had once again called to inquire about Brian's situation.
This was the seventh call this year.
Before Brian's posting to the West Blue, Zephyr might go an entire year without contacting him at all—perhaps even forgetting he had a former student serving as governor here.
It showed just how highly Zephyr valued Brian.
But to Karl, the man was nothing short of a walking disaster—a disgrace to the Navy!
Drunkenness, gambling, womanizing, causing brawls, disturbing the locals...
And those were just the minor offenses.
There were even whispers that Brian had dealings with arms dealers—smuggling weapons, offloading decommissioned warships and cannons at dirt-cheap prices.
Of course, none of that had been proven.
Still, knowing his former junior's reputation from the Academy, Karl wouldn't be surprised if Brian really was that shameless when money was involved.
What puzzled Karl most was this—why was Admiral Zephyr so obsessed with this fallen student?
Sure, they said Brian was gifted and full of potential, but could he really outshine the likes of Sakazuki, Borsalino, or Kuzan?
Even if he had that kind of natural talent, what good was it? With his utter disregard for military discipline, how could a man like that ever become one of the Navy's pillars?
Sometimes Karl thought it'd be better if Brian did just become a pirate. With his temperament, piracy would probably suit him better.
"Damn it, that bastard's caused me trouble again."
Sighing heavily, Karl tore up the latest report on his desk and tossed it into the trash.
It was the third complaint this month—sent by the 243rd Branch's furious old secretary, his letter dripping with frustration and scorn.
And that wasn't even the end of Karl's headaches.
Knock, knock, knock!—a hurried knock rattled the office door.
"Come in!" Karl barked impatiently.
Click. The door swung open, revealing his adjutant, Colonel George, looking terribly conflicted.
"Governor, sir… the King of Nasia has lodged another formal protest. He's demanding you deal with Colonel Brian at once."
"What now? Did Brian go 'visiting' another noble's estate?"
Karl's tone dripped with sarcasm—the so-called visits were nothing but excuses for Brian's extortion sprees across the Kingdom of Nasia.
George hesitated, lowering his voice until it was barely audible.
"This time… it's the royal princess, sir. Colonel Brian 'invited' the Grand Princess back with him… as a guest."
BOOM!
With a thunderous crack, Karl's fist smashed through his desk, splintering it into dust.
"BRIAN!!!"
◇ I'll be dropping one bonus chapters for every 10 reviews. comment
◇ One bonus chapter will be released for every 100 Power Stones.