How was the administration faring in Alabasta?
Ross finally turned his attention to Zane and Sora.
These past few days, the two women had shouldered the handover duties. Alabasta had been under Nefertari rule for over a thousand years. If not for Queen Titi being the last direct descendant—and her full support for Ross—plus his role in avenging King Cobra, the locals would have turned outright hostile.
"Alabasta's stabilized," Sora said softly. "With Queen Titi's backing, the ministers are cooperating fully."
Blessed with the Brain-Brain Fruit, she could manage most of the kingdom's affairs single-handedly. Still, she preferred tinkering in the lab. And Ross favored that too—top-notch inventors outshone mere bureaucrats any day. He'd only pulled her in as a stopgap.
Once they left, she'd dive into researching the Redfield's remains.
"My handover's complete too," Zane added, dipping her head. "The Jaygarcia District's back on track, and Saint Mars is en route to Reverse Mountain..."
She'd arrived three days earlier, plunging straight into the work without even seeing Ross first. Grasping Alabasta's full scope in that time was impossible, but the system hummed along fine. Only Cobra had died; the rest operated as usual. She just needed to know who handled what.
As Cobra's stand-in, Zane didn't meddle much in day-to-day calls. Mostly, she spread word of Ross's "virtues," nudging the people toward acceptance.
She sighed, a helpless edge to her voice. "Your Highness, I'm swamped. Please, get me some help."
Her plate kept piling up. She'd started as Ross's bodyguard, then admin of the Jaygarcia District, then Revolutionary Army overseer, then city-builder for Reverse City. Now, suddenly, Alabasta's fate rested on her shoulders.
Spandine's ego would've swelled at the power grab, but Zane saw it as a curse. All she wanted was an easy gig—why was that so hard?
Her gaze flicked to Gion, laced with envy. Sword practice with Ross? Piece of cake. Zane had never fought much, but she figured she'd outshine the swordswoman easy.
"Huh?"
Gion blinked at the stare, offering a warm smile in return. Amid serious talk, she often zoned out, mentally drilling her forms.
Zane muttered under her breath, "Must be nice..."
Ross rubbed his temples. "I'll sort the staffing later."
He couldn't overload Zane forever, but reliable hands were scarce. Spandine or Gion in charge? Disaster, even under watch.
"Here's the play," he said. "Hold off on Alabasta's greening project. After we sail, ease Titi into the reins. Once she's seasoned, she can lead it."
The greening—turning desert to arable land—was Ross's big overhaul. Alabasta spanned millions across endless sands, eighty percent barren. Reclaim it all, and it could rival the Jaygarcia District's population.
His endgame: six special zones under direct control, spanning the Four Seas and Grand Line's halves. From there, influence would ripple worldwide, toppling the regime with global might.
Zane would blueprint it initially; Titi would shadow and take over.
For now, trial by fire for the princess.
"Yes, Your Highness! Mission accepted!"
Zane saluted, but inwardly groaned. More work? This "relief" just doubled her load—managing Alabasta while mentoring Titi Ross-style.
Gods, end me now...
Still, she rallied quick contingency plans. Boss's orders were boss's orders.
"Alabasta's yours. Train up our crew, and I'll pull you back to the Holy Land."
Ross pulled her into a hug. Zane wasn't a natural admin, but she didn't botch things. Without her, his empire wouldn't have ballooned this far.
His ruthlessness stayed aimed outward.
"Looking forward to it," she replied.
With Zane on board, Alabasta wrapped.
Ross parted ways and boarded the ship with the others.
Aboard, Stacy's earlier words nagged him. He extended his Observation Haki, pinpointing Moira's cabin.
She hadn't greeted them—too busy on the Den Den Mushi, face alight with fervor.
"Ivankov! I'm not heading back yet!"
"Danger? Everywhere's a powder keg!"
"The others are hounded like dogs, Sorbet Kingdom's a trap, and Dragon's vanished. Safe? Ha!"
"Plus, that Celestial Dragon's spy... I'll unmask 'M' myself!"
"Save your breath—sounds like they're aboard. Catch you later."
Ross pushed inside mid-call, catching every word.
Moira contacting Ivankov? Predictable. Outside Sorbet Kingdom, the Revolutionary Army scattered like rats, harried by Marius across the globe.
Since the giants' realm, Dragon had ghosted—no trace, no plans known.
Ross had overheard Borsalino: Kuzan and Garp chatted often with someone. Had to be Dragon.
What scheme brewed? Irrelevant for now.
The door banged open. Moira jolted up, eyes wide at Ross.
"Saint Ross..."
She'd just hung up—terrified he'd eavesdrop.
"Hmm?"
Ross smirked, eyeing her expectantly.
Moira bit her lip, humiliation flickering, then dropped to her knees and crawled forward.
To hide her subterfuge, refusal wasn't an option. Exposure would doom her.
"Good girl."
He ran fingers through her blonde locks, amusement glinting.
Her grudge-fueled resolve to stick close and strike back? Adorable.
Pity for her—spies caught often flipped, tools for the foe instead.
—