Bikashi Island.
In front of the Port Tax Bureau's official residence, the "Golden Coffee Tree" flag of the Echemondo Kingdom and the Jolly Roger of the Whitebeard Pirates fluttered high together in the wind.
Elus stood beneath the flagstaff.
He tilted his head back, his eyes fixed on the black banner above—the skull and crossbones marked by that iconic, crescent-moon mustache.
"We are a member nation of the World Government, yet we fly the colors of a pirate. Fran, don't you find it... jarring?"
Elus suddenly spoke, breaking the silence that had settled around them.
"Your Highness, if you haven't had enough sleep, you are more than welcome to catch up on your rest once we are aboard the ship."
The young woman standing beside him had hair as vivid and brilliant as a raging fire. Her crimson eyes shimmered with a detached, cold light. A traditional black-and-white maid's dress draped over her graceful figure, revealing only the tips of her black, round-toed leather shoes beneath the hem.
"One flag should have been enough here," Elus murmured softly.
"It is broad daylight, Prince. Please refrain from talking in your sleep. It's embarrassing."
"...Fran, are you looking for a fight?"
Elus glanced sideways at his personal maid.
Her name was simply Fran. An orphan by birth, seventeen years old, she had been meticulously trained by Elus's mother to serve as his personal attendant. She was more than just someone to warm his bed; she was his last line of defense—the final shield between him and the world.
After rounds of brutal, specialized elimination, Fran was the sole survivor out of nearly a hundred candidates.
Because of this, Elus was willing to overlook her minor hobby of verbal sparring. He could afford to be broad-minded. In truth, he didn't mind Fran's sharp tongue; compared to the other sycophantic maids in the palace who cowered if you so much as looked at them, Fran's personality was refreshing. Teasing her was far more entertaining.
"How could that be? I am merely a maid. Why would a maid pick a fight with her master?" Fran said with a straight face.
"Is that so?"
Elus gave her a mock glare before his expression smoothed over. "Then we'll pretend you didn't. Either way, I'll find a way to pay you back... later."
He put a heavy emphasis on the word "later." The stoic girl's composure finally cracked; her face flushed a deep red as she gritted her teeth, shooting him a sharp glare, but she held her tongue.
Someone was approaching.
Two men, one tall and one short, both clad in identical black suits, were walking briskly toward the flagstaff.
"Dick, Eschbach. Is everything prepared?" Elus asked as they drew near.
"Eight warships have been assembled. Provisions and ammunition have been tallied—nothing is missing. The sailors are at their stations. We can weigh anchor at a moment's notice."
The speaker was the shorter man on the left. Even though he was called "short," at two hundred and twenty-two centimeters, he was still considerably taller than Elus.
It was only in comparison to the mountain of a man on the right, who stood a staggering three hundred and fifty centimeters tall, that he looked small.
"Well done, Dick, Eschbach," Elus praised.
The shorter one was Dick; the giant was Eschbach. Both were Elus's adjutants. Much like Fran, they had been by his side since childhood, receiving the same elite education. If they survived the coming years, they would become the ministers of the realm once Elus ascended the throne.
The current Navy Minister, Bamonde Foy, had once been King Bovill's adjutant.
"Your Highness, shall we depart now?" Eschbach asked, his voice low and resonant.
Despite his intimidating size, the giant spoke with an air of calm composure. His hazel eyes showed no hint of the restless excitement visible in Dick's gaze.
"Where are Dillen and Caspar?" Elus inquired about his other two adjutants.
"They are already aboard, overseeing the ships," Eschbach replied.
"Since everyone is here, let's go."
Elus took one last look at the two flags flying overhead before turning and walking away from the Tax Bureau's residence.
Fran followed a half-step behind him, with Dick and Eschbach falling into formation.
Soon, the eight warships docked in the harbor weighed anchor. Under the guidance of the navigators, they began to cut through the waves, heading north at full speed.
The North.
The Toothed Whale Sea.
This sea served as the northern gateway to the Echemondo Kingdom. Unless the enemy possessed the power of flight, any invader from the north was forced to pass through these waters. The islands of Whale Head, Whale Belly, and Whale Tail stood as the three great gates of the realm.
By now, Whale Head and Whale Belly had already fallen to the invaders from the Kingdom of Amento.
Only Whale Tail Island remained in Echemondo's hands.
Across the vast expanse of the ocean, a fleet of fifty large warships was currently splitting the waves, surging toward Whale Tail.
The flags of the Kingdom of Amento snapped loudly in the wind.
Standing on the deck of the flagship, King Nebli IV of Amento looked up at his familiar colors, but his eyes were filled with nothing but gray despair.
It was over.
Everything was over.
The Kingdom of Amento, with its hundred-and-twenty-year history, was doomed. Regardless of who emerged victorious—the Shipping King Umit or the Kingdom of Echemondo—Amento would not meet a happy end. If not for the hope of preserving at least one thread of the Nebli bloodline, he would have ended his life long ago.
For the sake of his youngest son, who had been taken hostage by Umit, he could only grit his teeth and cooperate with Umit's plans at any cost.
Of course, he couldn't help but harbor the dark desire to drag others down into the abyss with him.
Since his kingdom was finished, why should the Soccachio family continue to rule Echemondo in luxury? The two nations had always had friction; the Nebli and Soccachio families had clashed many times over the years, and almost every single time, the Neblis had been ground into the dirt.
If he could take a bite out of his old rivals before he died, it would be worth it.
Better yet, if those Soccachio bastards could make that wretch Umit bleed a little, it would be the perfect finale. A mutual destruction was the ending he craved most.
Bulu-bulu-bulu.
A Transponder Snail began to ring.
Nebli IV shifted his eyes toward a black-haired man lounging on a nearby deck chair, flanked by two women. This was "Ghost Sword" Venculla, a pirate with a bounty of 105 million Berries. A flash of hatred crossed the King's eyes.
This was the man who had feigned weariness of the pirate life, claiming he wanted to settle down in Amento. He had tricked his way past the kingdom's defenses and bloodlessly seized control of the government from within.
In reality, this rising star of the pirate world was one of the Shipping King's hidden assets.
"Lord Umit."
Venculla pushed the women aside and picked up the Transponder Snail with practiced deference. "We are nearing Whale Tail Island. Barring any accidents, we should arrive by evening. Rest assured, I will deliver good news before you retire for the night."
"Venculla... I'll be waiting. Do not disappoint me."
The voice was heavy with implication. The Transponder Snail perfectly mimicked the Shipping King's piercing, predatory gaze.
Venculla bowed his head deeply.
"Lord Umit, I will not fail you."