"Those are extremely dangerous things to discuss," a raspy, withered voice croaked from behind him.
Leo jumped slightly. He had assumed he was alone with the Empress, a setting that allowed him to drop the formalities of her station. But the presence of an outsider changed the gravity of the room.
In the presence of others, a ruler's dignity must be absolute. He had learned that by the side of the Celestial Dragons: if you don't help the one in power maintain their image, they will simply "maintain" you out of existence.
He turned to see a tiny, elderly woman leaning on a gnarled staff. He didn't offer her a sliver of contempt. He knew exactly who she was.
Elder Nyon. The woman who had led the three sisters back to the island after their escape. The anchor of the Kuja's history. Though she sat on the sidelines now, she remained the sharpest mind in the kingdom.
She hobbled closer, her height barely reaching five feet. Her eyes, sharp as a hawk's, scanned him. "I find myself curious. How does a slave come to possess such high-level intelligence?"
She tapped her staff on the stone floor. "Slaves are kept in the dark. They are tools, not confidants. So, who are you, really?"
Leo stood up from his cushion and stretched. The lazy, drifting survivor persona vanished. His posture straightened, his chin lifted, and he offered a refined, elegant bow—the kind seen only in the most prestigious courts of the world.
"My name is Leo," he said, his voice now crisp and articulate. "I served as the personal steward for the House of Saint Kamael, one of the Twenty Families."
He looked the old woman in the eye. "Because I was perceived as weak and non-threatening, Saint Kamael placed immense trust in me. I managed his ledgers, his business ventures, and his communications. I saw the gears of the World Government turning from the inside. If you haven't received the Warlord invitation yet, trust me—it is coming. Everything I say will soon be proven true."
The relaxed air returned to him, but the weight of his credibility had shifted. He was no longer just a castaway; he was a walking vault of forbidden knowledge.
"And you, Elder," Leo said respectfully. "Your name is Gloriosa, if I recall?"
The old woman's expression hardened. She recognized the value he represented. While most pirates were illiterate brawlers who only cared about the next island, the truly dangerous ones understood that information was the ultimate weapon.
The World Economic Journal thrived because information was a commodity pirates were desperate to buy. And here was a man who knew the secrets the journal wouldn't dare print.
"What is your objective?" Gloriosa asked, her voice low and demanding.
This was the heart of the matter. Why was he telling them this? What did he want in exchange for the keys to the world?
"The heads of the Celestial Dragons," Leo said.
The statement was so blunt, so blasphemous, that it made Hancock visibly shudder behind the veil.
"The dismantling of the World Government," he continued, holding up a second finger. "The collapse of the Marines."
He raised a fourth finger. "And the birth of a new nation. One built on the ashes of the old."
He looked past Gloriosa, his gaze piercing the silk curtain to where the Empress sat. "I want nothing else. That is my price and my purpose."
He closed his eyes and let out a long, shuddering breath. For ten years, he had buried these thoughts in the dark corners of his mind. To say them aloud, here in the heart of a kingdom of warriors, felt like a spiritual purge.
"You... you wish to be the Pirate King?" Gloriosa stammered, stunned by the sheer scale of his ambition. Was this what he meant? Did this slave possess the King's Ambition?
"The Pirate King?"
Leo froze for a second, then he began to laugh.
He doubled over, clutching his stomach. He laughed until tears pricked his eyes, a wild, hysterical sound that filled the silent chamber for nearly half a minute. Finally, he slumped back onto his cushion, wiping his eyes.
"How can you think something so ridiculous?" he asked, still breathless. "Wealth, fame, power, and freedom—the Pirate King is supposed to have it all. But in this world, that title represents everything except true power."
He held up a single finger. "True power belongs to the World Government. Or rather, to the people who pull the strings of the World Government."
"The Pirate King is a hollow title. Look at Gold Roger. He was chased across the globe like a common criminal by Garp. When he 'conquered' the sea, he was publicly executed. Even after his death, his wife had to hide her pregnancy for twenty months just so his child wouldn't be slaughtered. What power did he have?"
Leo sneered. "He left behind a world of chaos and called it 'hope.' He changed nothing. He broke nothing. He just died. What use is a Pirate King?"
Hancock and Gloriosa were speechless. The man's words were bordering on lunacy, yet they carried a terrifying logic.
"So," Gloriosa said, her voice dripping with irony, "you intend to usurp the world?"
She wasn't talking about a small kingdom like Amazon Lily. She meant the member nations—the kings who paid the Heavenly Tribute and sat at the Reverie.
The pirates of the current era, like Crocodile or Doflamingo, dreamed of stealing kingdoms to gain legitimacy and protection. It was the ultimate "promotion" for a criminal.
But as he looked at them, Leo's laughter turned into a cold, dismissive smirk. He wasn't looking for a seat at their table. He was looking to burn the table down.