"Damn that Brian… that monster doesn't let us eat our fill, doesn't let us sleep, and still has the soldiers whip me! When I get out of here, I'll go straight to the Five Elders and accuse him of being a corrupt naval scum! I'll see him dragged to Enies Lobby for trial and locked in Impel Down for life—!"
A week later, at the Ganaba Fortress construction site, Spandine looked like a ghost of his former self — unshaven, filthy, and half-dead.
He hadn't eaten a full meal in days, had slept less than three hours a night, and every time he slowed down, the guards' fists and whips came raining down. His body was a mosaic of bruises and cuts.
But since Brian had dislocated his jaw, all of Spandine's furious complaints came out as garbled noises.
"@#￥#%￥%@#%…￥#@#%@%@#￥#%..."
"You bastard! Slacking off again!"
A grim-faced soldier raised his whip and lashed down hard.
The blows made Spandine's face twist in agony, his mouth opening in a muffled scream.
The stone he had been carrying slipped from his trembling hands and landed squarely on his own foot, making his eyes bulge from the pain.
"Move it! Faster!"
Whip! Whip!
Two more lashes tore across his back, the sound sharp as cracking ice.
Spandine barely noticed the pain in his foot — he staggered forward to grab another stone.
He had already learned the hard way that complaining or slowing down only brought worse punishment.
This place was hell on earth.
As for the CP9 agents who had come with him, they now thought their superior was an idiot.
If he'd just shut up and worked quietly, they would at least have food and rest.
But no — he had to mouth off and drag them all into misery.
Now, even his own men kept their distance, afraid to be beaten alongside him.
From atop a makeshift observation tower, Brian watched the scene unfold below, his gaze calm and detached.
"This labor reform program works pretty well," he said casually. "We should expand it. Throwing prisoners in jail is just a waste of food."
Every strike of the whip, every pained grunt from Spandine, was clearly visible from where he stood.
And as the Director of CP9 — an organization reporting directly to the Five Elders — Spandine was one of the few men Brian couldn't simply kill.
But execution was unnecessary.
Death was mercy. Fear was obedience.
Brian wanted Spandine to remember this humiliation for the rest of his life — to know exactly whom he had dared to offend.
"Yes, Lord Brian."
Snow stood beside him, notebook in hand, dutifully recording every word.
He intended to compile them into a volume titled The Sayings of Lord Brian — to be distributed to officers as ideological study material.
"Make sure you keep a close eye on that Spandine," Brian continued. "Work him half to death if you have to… ah, wait. Don't write that last part down."
"Yes, Lord Brian."
"Oh, and promote Star to regimental commander. He'll take Caesar's position.
Tell him to work hard and not let me down."
Snow dropped to his knees with a thud, eyes filled with gratitude.
"Thank you for your grace, Lord Brian. My brother will give his life to serve you!"
The order left the attendants stunned.
Star had graduated from boot camp barely a month ago — he'd only been under Brian's command for a few weeks.
Yet now, from a mere captain, he was leaping straight to lieutenant colonel!
A meteoric rise, faster than anyone had ever seen.
"Good." Brian grinned. "Get the carriage ready. I'm going to the royal banquet tonight. I won't be back for a few days. You brothers handle everything here."
"Rest assured, Lord Brian," Snow said, bowing low. "We'll manage it perfectly."
"Hahaha! Snow, when I become an admiral, I'll make you Governor of the West Blue!"
"Lord Brian…" Snow's voice trembled with awe. He looked at Brian as though beholding a living god.
"Remember," Brian said with a smirk, "follow my lead, and you'll have power and fortune beyond imagination."
"Lord Brian… how could I ever repay your grace?"
That evening, in the royal palace of the Kingdom of Nasia, the grand banquet was in full swing.
Crystal chandeliers sparkled, orchestras played, and laughter filled the air.
Brian swirled the wine in his glass with his left hand, his eyes wandering lazily over the noblewomen and young ladies gliding through the ballroom.
Several of them glanced his way, sending flirtatious smiles — but Brian merely shook his head.
After a year of indulgence, the man who had once found thrill in conquest now felt jaded.
Just as he was about to casually pick a companion for the night, his gaze stopped.
A woman had entered the hall — tall, elegant, wearing a flowing gown that gleamed under the chandeliers.
Her eyes shimmered with dangerous allure, her features perfectly sculpted, her skin as smooth and pale as jade.
"Who's that woman?" Brian murmured. "I've never seen her before."
The man drinking beside him — Antonio, a royal secretary — followed his gaze and grinned knowingly.
Antonio had been one of the first to align himself with Brian after the Major General seized the Nasia Princess. He'd since become Brian's informer and sycophant within the royal court.
"Ah, Lord Brian," Antonio said obsequiously, "that's the wife of Duke August — the Duke of our neighboring kingdom. She's also the Queen's cousin. They married two years ago."
Brian's smile deepened. "The duke's wife, hm?"
He clapped Antonio on the shoulder.
"You can arrange this, can't you? My future Minister of Justice?"
"M-Minister of Justice…?" Antonio's eyes nearly popped from their sockets.
That post was one of the most coveted in the entire kingdom — wealthy, powerful, and prestigious beyond measure.
Brian chuckled softly.
"Do your job well, Antonio. Your future reaches far beyond a single minister's chair."
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