Three days later.
The midday sun shone over the waters of the first half of the Grand Line without a cloud in sight, making the sea glitter.
A huge Marine warship cut through the calm water.
Unlike a typical Marine ship with its cold, iron-blooded atmosphere, the figurehead of this vessel was a giant pink rabbit head.
It looked cute, but to those who knew better, the deterrence carried by that pink rabbit was no less than that of a ferocious beast.
As the distance closed, a Marine base of almost excessive grandeur gradually came into view.
This was Marine Branch G-17.
Unlike the iron-blooded style of other Marine branches, the first impression G-17 gave was not just its size, but its sheer extravagance.
The entire base was built against a mountain.
The massive fortress walls were not made of the Marines' usual gray-black stone. Instead, they were coated in a layer of finely polished white paint that gleamed in the sunlight like a palace.
The docking berths at the port were arranged with perfect order.
On the left side, rows of brand-new heavy warships were docked. Each one looked as if it had just been launched.
The paint on the hulls gleamed, the canvas sails were spotless, and even the cannon muzzles were polished enough to reflect the light.
"Tsk, tsk..."
Smoker leaned against the ship's railing.
Looking at the scene before him, he could not help letting out a cold snort through his nose. The two cigars in his mouth bobbed slightly with the motion.
"Is this G-17, the so-called 'Model Branch'?
If I didn't know better, I'd think we'd arrived at some royal port in an allied kingdom.
These walls are painted whiter than my face."
Aiden stood beside him without saying a word.
He simply watched the Marine flag atop the base building, its edges embroidered with gold thread.
At that moment, one of Gion's personal aides, a female Major with neat short hair, walked over.
She held a report in her hand and adjusted her glasses as she introduced the place. "This is the busiest Golden Route in the first half of the Grand Line.
The wealth carried by the merchant ships passing through here every day exceeds the treasury of a small nation."
The aide looked at the gleaming base, a trace of complexity in her tone.
"As the Marines guarding this place, the 'donations' G-17 Branch receives every year are astronomical.
If they are even a little 'flexible,' the grease slipping through their fingers would be enough to coat this base in gold dust."
She paused and added, "When there is that much money, the storefront naturally has to look good.
After all, this is a Model Branch established by Headquarters. It's the 'face' shown to the people above."
As the warship slowly docked, a group of people who had been waiting on the pier immediately stepped forward.
A red carpet.
That's right.
On a pier full of cargo and cables, they had actually laid out a bright red carpet nearly a hundred meters long, leading straight to the ship's gangway.
On both sides of the carpet stood two rows of ceremonial soldiers holding the latest repeating rifles.
Their uniforms were pressed so flat that there was not a single wrinkle, and even their buttons were gold-plated, shining brightly in the sun.
The middle-aged man leading them looked even more like he was dripping with money.
He was slightly overweight, completely filling out his broad "Justice" coat.
His ruddy face showed none of the roughness left by years of sea wind.
Instead, it had the pampered look of someone used to luxury.
On his ten fingers, he wore at least three gemstone rings.
The rank insignia on his shoulders sparkled in the sunlight: Marine Commodore.
This was the highest-ranking officer of G-17 Branch, Commodore Nelson.
"Oh my! I've been waiting and hoping for your arrival, and now you are finally here!"
Before Gion could even step down the gangway, Nelson's eager voice had already reached them.
He jogged over, the flesh on his face trembling slightly with every step.
Despite outranking her, his smiling, welcoming manner did not show the slightest trace of condescension.
Rather than a Commodore holding considerable military authority, he looked more like a shrewd businessman welcoming an important guest.
"The famous Commodore Gion of Headquarters! Your arrival brings light to this humble place!"
Gion walked down the gangway with Aiden and Smoker behind her.
As her boots stepped onto that soft red carpet, her brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
The softness beneath her feet made her uncomfortable.
"Commodore Nelson, it's a pleasure."
Gion's expression remained indifferent. She did not reach out to shake his hand and only gave a polite nod.
"We are only here for a routine patrol and to restock supplies.
There is no need for such a grand reception."
"What are you saying? How can this be called grand?"
Nelson was not embarrassed in the slightest by the refusal to shake hands.
He withdrew his hand naturally and made an exaggerated gesture of invitation.
"This is only proper courtesy!
You represent Marine Headquarters! If we don't receive you properly, wouldn't that be a slap in the face to Headquarters?"
His words came out smoothly and flawlessly.
His small eyes, narrowed into slits by the fat on his face, gleamed with calculation.
"As for supplies," Nelson said, patting his chest, "please rest easy, Commodore Gion!
Whether it's ammunition, fresh water, or the finest ingredients, I have already had everything prepared.
I guarantee everyone from Headquarters will eat and drink well!"
As he spoke, his gaze lingered on Gion for a little too long.
It slowly slid from her face down to her slender figure.
He looked at her, his eyes full of desire. He had clearly been waiting for a chance like this.
Right after that, his gaze passed over Gion and landed on the two men behind her.
When he saw Smoker, smoke spilling from his mouth as he looked around with an annoyed expression, a clear trace of disgust flashed across Nelson's face.
It was as if he were looking at some piece of trash that had dirtied his carpet.
As for Aiden, who looked refined and did not stand out much, Nelson chose to ignore him entirely.
To him, they were simply two of Gion's attendants.
In his view of the world, anyone below the rank of Field Officer was not worth even a glance.
"Commodore Gion, this way please."
Nelson completely ignored Aiden and Smoker, stepping aside to lead the way with a face full of smiles.
"The journey has been long and tiring. You must be exhausted.
I have already prepared a simple meal inside the base to welcome you. Please, do me the honor."
Gion stopped walking.
Her first instinct was to refuse this meaningless social gathering.
But at that moment, she tilted her head slightly and glanced at Aiden behind her.
Aiden kept a straight face, but he gave her a very subtle wink with his left eye.
The meaning was obvious: Go and take a look.
Gion's heart stirred.
She remembered Vice Admiral Tsuru's order of "full supervision."
Since this "person under supervision" was taking the initiative to suggest taking a look, then as his supervisor, she would use this chance to see exactly what he was planning.
Of course, if she knew that behind Aiden's subtle message was simply a desire to get a free, high-quality meal, that familiar hand chop would probably have landed on his forehead again.
Gion understood, turned back, and gave Nelson a faint smile.
"Since Commodore Nelson is being so generous, then we shall trouble you."
Passing through the large carved iron gates and entering the interior of the base, the sense of luxury only grew stronger.
The hallways were covered in thick wool carpets.
Expensive-looking oil paintings hung on the walls. Fine porcelain vases stood every few meters.
If not for the occasional patrolling soldiers passing by, this place would have looked more like a palace than a military base.
The so-called "simple meal" had been arranged in the banquet hall on the top floor of the base.
The enormous floor-to-ceiling windows were made of the finest clear glass, offering a full view of the entire bustling port.
The long dining table was covered with a white silk tablecloth.
Silver cutlery sparkled beneath the light of the crystal chandeliers.
When the dishes were brought out one by one, even Smoker, who had already seen plenty of good food while following Aiden, could not help widening his eyes.
A giant roasted whole beast still sizzled with fat, releasing a rich aroma.
A mountain of premium fish roe was piled high, each bead plump and glossy.
That was luxury sold by the gram.
Then there were giant sea lobsters as thick as a man's arm.
These rare delicacies were spread across the table as if they cost nothing at all.
Fine red wine, the kind usually reserved for nobles, was poured into glass pitchers by the waiters as casually as water.
"This..." Smoker stared at the feast, worth more than ten years of his salary, and swallowed with difficulty.
"Come, come! Commodore Gion, please take the seat of honor!"
Nelson sat at the head of the table, calling out eagerly.