His name was not renowned in the way of other famous pirates. It was not revered the way Gold Roger's was, nor respected as Whitebeard's was, nor feared as the Golden Lion's was. But instead, he got to live a life of peace, so perhaps his was the better life to lead.
A stillness filled the town. It was as if even the wind was holding its breath in anticipation. Even the sounds of wildlife could not be heard. No smoke rose from the factory pipes, nor could one hear the running of machinery. People moved about on their daily business, but with a somber air, as though they dared not break the silence. Far fewer people than a town of this size ought to have moving around in the middle of the day, especially one such as this. Only the occasional cloud crossed the sky, and the air was crisp with the promise of autumn around the corner.
Then, from central town square, came a single sound. A long hollow note played from a drum carried throughout the town, and those that were going about their daily lives stopped to listen. Then came a second note, as well as the sound of people moving in unison.
The drumbeats continued in a slow, majestic tempo. Some twenty people, all in black, walked in lockstep behind four more, carrying a closed black oak casket. The name Victor Steele was inlaid in gold across the top of the casket. In front of the bearers of it were two people. One was the drummer, a man who looked to be in his late seventies, and who walked with tears streaming steadily down his weathered face.
The second was a short woman, perhaps in her early twenties. She wore black pants and a black leather jacket, with a hooded veil to cover her face. In her gloved hands was a sheathed katana whose hilt boasted a glittering jade. Her transparent veil revealed her stony face to any onlookers, where it was clear that she was fighting the urge to cry like the man next to her.
As the procession moved through the town, people stepped up and bowed their heads. Most seemed to have been prepared for the occasion, as there was little color to be seen in their clothing. Though some men and women openly shed tears, most had the same stoney look on their faces as the woman leading the procession.
Three thousand, five hundred and twenty steps later, all in perfect harmony, to the mournful notes of a drum, found the procession in a graveyard. With smooth abruptness, the column came to a halt next to a massive and ornate headstone.
A man with silver hair stepped up to the far side of the tombstone from where the man and woman leading the procession had stopped. He wore a purple vestment, and carried an ornate, leather-bound book. He bowed his head to the two who had lead the party, then turned to the larger group. Then he spoke up.
"Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, we are gathered here today to…"
"Are you okay, Uncle Maki?" the woman who was leading the procession asked the man who had beat the drum. Now both sat alone in a well-kept parlor, as the woman, who had removed her gloves, handed the man, Maki, a handkerchief.
He accepted it with a watery smile and began wiping away his tears. "Sorry, Zoë," he said huskily. "It's just…" He settled back into the worn leather armchair, eyes unfocused and distant.
The woman, Zoë, made a sound that could have been a snot. "No one is judging you, Maki," she told the man. "You knew Father for what, sixty years?" She looked at him expectantly.
He chuckled, putting down the used handkerchief on a nearby table. "Sixty-three, to be precise." Though he said it jokingly, no trace of humor reached his eyes, for they had yet to refocus from whatever he was looking at.
"All right then, sixty-three," Zoë conceded. "But now he's finally kicked the bucket, and you knew it was coming." The woman looked directly at the man, forcing their eyes to meet. With her hooded veil off, her cobalt blue hair shone in the light. Perched above her head were two cat-like ears of the same color. They twitched as she met his eyes and said levelly, "We all knew he didn't have another year in him after this last winter. We've been prepared."
Maki sighed. "It doesn't make losing him any easier, Zoë. And besides, now that he's gone, my time will also be coming soon." He shook his head as Zoë opened her mouth. "No, not that soon, I've still got a few years left in me. But I'm old, girl, and I'm tired."
Zoë nodded, though she didn't look like she agreed fully. "You'll still be there to help me learn to run the company though, won't you Uncle?"
Maki's head shot up as she said that. For the first time since sitting down, an emotion other than sadness crossed his face. It was a sort of mix of sympathy and wry amusement. "Ah, the company…" he mused. "Actually, your father had something to say about that. It would be better if he told you."
"What?" Zoë asked, face blank.
The man chuckled at her look of surprise and gestured towards one of the doors, this one leading to an office room. "Your father prepared something for you before he died. It's on a video snail, set up to start as soon as you sit down in his old chair. Go ahead, it'll give me some time to… think."
The woman, though still clearly confused, got up and headed towards the indicated door. As she passed by, she squeezed the man's shoulder firmly, though for which of them the reassurance was for she didn't know.
The inside of the office was rather stuffy. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with business literature, philosophy, and other dull subjects. Towards the back of the room a large mahogany desk lay empty of work instruments. The chair that should have sat behind it instead was placed in front, looking towards the solid brick wall. Perched on the center of the desk was a video transponder snail, eyes closed and drooped.
Zoë took a moment to gaze at the familiar surroundings before walking up to the chair and seating herself. As soon as she did, the snail's eyes rose and began transmitting the recorded message on the wall.
The face of a far too handsome man appeared, looking directly at her. It appeared he was sitting down as he recorded it, because she could see the same chair she currently sat in behind his head.
"Hello, Zoë," the image said. Though the voice was a crisp tenor, it lacked it strength that it had in its youth. "If you are watching this, then I must be dead. Tell Maki I'm sorry about that," the image chuckled to itself. "So, how about it," the image asked. "This office, this mansion, Steele Tech. It's yours now. It might seem a bit daunting, but you're a strong woman, I'm sure you can handle it. Although you probably got it all from your mother's side." The image chuckled again, though it was punctuated by a cough.
"But in spite of what I just said, it's not yours yet," the image went on. "As you know, I made my way as a pirate, captain of the Steel Pirates. We had a right lot of fun, us pirates. Maki was my right hand man, always backing up whatever crazy scheme had crossed my mind." He smiled and looked wistful. "At our peak I had a bounty of two hundred and eighty million berries. The crew as a whole topped five hundred million.
"However, on the Grand Line, we realized something. We realized that whatever we did as pirates wouldn't help our children. So, using the resources and plunder I had gained, I came back to my hometown of Tarvos and purchased amnesty from the World Government. We had never committed any major crimes or pissed off the wrong people, so in exchange for outfitting one thousand marines a year with weapons and gear, as well as a hefty financial 'donation', our bounties were removed. And that's how Steele Tech started.
"Of course, you know all this. What matters to you is what I said earlier, about the company not being yours yet." The smile on the image's face was positively evil. "Maki and I were talking about the future of the company one day when the idea occurred to us. Now, you're a smart girl, you probably already know where I'm going with this. You see, I started the company with the money I got by pirating, so we figured it would be in the company's best interests if you continued the tradition."
The woman's jaw dropped as the image of her father chuckled. "Of course, if you set out with what we could give you, you'd be missing the most important part of being a pirate captain. So," he said while clapping his hands together, "Maki and the board will take over company activities for the moment. In the meantime, you'll be going on an adventure. The only things you can take with you are your own possessions, my old sword, and ten thousand berries. There is a boat prepared in the harbor for you."
"Your goal while traveling will be to various locations throughout the Grand Line. In your room with the money is a vivre card that is attached to someone holding the next one. There are a total of ten locations on the Grand Line you must visit. Each holder will have parts of a key used to unlock the chest at the final location. All of them are friends of mine, so if they don't recognize you, just tell them you're my daughter and show them the card."
"Oh, and one more thing. I sent out the message to all company locations, you can't use them for free supplies. They will sell you things at a discount, but that's it. In fact, you aren't even allowed to sleep in this house. So good luck, oh daughter of mine." With that, the video transponder snail shut its eyes, and the playback stopped.
Zoë quickly redressed into her standard outfit: pants the same color as her hair and a black leather jacket over a simple white shirt. She gathered up the measly supply of berries, cursing her luck that she never withdrew from her personal supply. No doubt that was off-limits to her now. Finally, she took the travel-stained bag lying on one side of the room. Preparations complete, Zoë took a look around her old room. Even if she made it back, she would have the master bedroom now.
No point in dwelling on what we've lost, she thought as she made her to leave the mansion. At the bottom of the stairs, however, she was stopped by the man who had beat the drum. "Uncle Maki," she greeted with a sour smile.
Ah laughed at the look on her face. "Little Zoë, about to go on an adventure," he said wistfully. "Going to be dreadful boring without you around."
"Hey! I'm not that little." Her voice was petulant, but it seemed to be a well-worn conversation. At a bare five foot four, Zoë stood considerably shorter than her Uncle's eight foot three, and she had to crane her neck to look at him.
"No," he said, expression turning serious, "you're not a little girl anymore, are you? But you didn't think you could get away without saying goodbye, did you?" Zoë smiled, shaking her head, and stepped forward into a bone-crushing hug from the taller man. "Take care, girl," he whispered into her hair. "Good luck."
Releasing her from the restraint, he put his niece on the ground and proffered what was in his left hand. "Don't forget this, girl." The immaculate sheath of the katana she had carried throughout the procession glittered in the hall lights, and Zoë accepted it reverently. "It might not be Hawk-Eye's black blade, but it's a masterwork all its own. Don't lose it," Maki cautioned.
"Never," Zoë whispered as she slid the sheath into place on her belt. "Any last words of warning or advice, Uncle?"
The big man looked thoughtful, before replying, "Don't be afraid to fight marines, don't mess with a Warlord, and stay away from the Celestial Dragons. Other than that," his face split into a massive smile, "follow what you believe in, and you'll have no regrets. Now off you go girl, before I start crying for the second time today."
Zoë gave him an impish grin, hugged him once more, then set out. Behind her, she could hear a slight sniffling sound and the muttered words, "Bounty of one hundred fifty million, I can't be crying over something like…"
People waved to her and she moved through the town. Now that the funeral was over, regular life had resumed. Thought perhaps it wouldn't have as much energy as normal, the sounds of a town played regardless; children laughing, shopkeepers arguing with customers, the drone of conversation. A few people wished her good luck as she passed. Had she been the only one in the South Blue who didn't know what her father had planned?
Of course, once she thought about it more, it made sense. Her father and Maki must have had the ship built by someone; they had to get travel rations from somewhere; someone had to look after the unmanned vessel.
Her thoughts carried her all the way to the harbor, where she saw a clean quarter schooner. Single masted, a single cabin with enough space for two people to sleep uncomfortably. Ports for oars which seemed to be stowed inside at the moment. No colors adorned the sail, and no jolly roger flew above the crow's nest. For all intents and purposes, it looked like what a wealthy fisherman might use. Except for the man standing on one of the railings.
"Zoë Steele!" he cried when she got into sight. "Prepare yourself!" He stood maybe six-foot-tall, wearing a brown rag that no sensible person would call a jacket over a pair of ragged shorts. People from around the harbor were looking in his direction as he continued screaming. "I am the highwayman Mene Sparke! Your journey ends here!" He pulled a crude cutlass from his belt and held it in his right hand. "Your company will give me ten million berries if I kill you here!" He began laughing maniacally as he jumped onto the pier.
"I have a bounty of one thousand berries, you stand no chance little girl. Why don't you just make this easy for yourself and-" The man jumped backwards as Zoë pulled the katana from its sheath. An uneven double-temper line ran along the sharp side of the blade, a jade green to match the color of the hilt. The gem from earlier was just a decoration, which had been discarded after the procession.
"Ha! You think you can fight against the Highwayman Mene Sparke? Don't even try. I have never lost a fight before." His laughter continued as he lashed out with the cutlass.
Zoë would have rolled her eyes at the attack had she merely been watching. Clearly this was a man used to terrorizing unarmed travelers and prowling the streets late at night. His surprise was almost comical as she deflected his attack with ease. Then his eyes widened even further as she made an efficient riposte, drawing a line of blood on his off arm.
"You cut me!" he screamed. "No one has ever done that! All right girl, that settles it. Your death shall be long and filled with pain! No one cuts the-" His speech cut off with a gurgle as Zoë rammed the katana into his stomach. She pulled it out quickly and stepped back out of his reach as his eyes bulged. Blood began leaking down his chin as he collapsed to the pier, and his cutlass fell off the side into the water below.
"No… One… Can…" he whispered, then fell silent. People who had been watching went back to what they were doing, and the area of the harbor resumed its usual business. A pair of town guard, both the sons of pirates from her father's crew, rushed over to begin disposing of the body.
"Sorry about that, Miss Steele," said the one with a badge denoting him as a lieutenant. "We were ordered to not interfere with the fight, not that any of us thought you would lose." He bowed his head and began helping his subordinate lift the corpse.
Zoë let them work in peace as she pulled a rag from her pack and cleaned the blade of the katana. She hadn't wanted to use the man's clothes for fear it would make the blade even dirtier.
Once the body had been moved out of her way, she stepped onto her new boat. It was about what she expected, although she found that someone had stuffed an extra few days worth of dried meat into a barrel, and someone else had put two blankets in the cabin.
With a sigh, Zoë turned to the people on the pier and waved to those few watching her. She set down her pack in the cabin and took to the oars. A few people waved back from the pier, and there were not a few cheers and calls for good luck.
It took her a half hour of rowing to reach the sea outside the sheltered bay and unfurl the sail. A northwestern wind followed the current, so she allowed that to take her wherever it would. It was, after all, the start of her very own adventure.
