Hero of Altear
Chapter 8:Dragon stared out at the town beyond the wall. What are they waiting for? he wondered. The failure of their plans should have revealed themselves to the Kriegans' Matriarch by now. Why were they still here? Once the city had successfully sealed itself the siege would be in Altear's favor, time solidly on their side. As overcrowded as they were, supplies were not an issue. They could wait months, the Kriegans couldn't. So why did they remain? They were up to something, Dragon was sure, but what he had no idea.
The sewers were his first thought, and the most obvious point of weakness in any walled city, but these were too well built, maintained, and even guarded to ever be a breach point. Dragon was too inexperienced to think of an alternative that the Kriegans might try for. He really had no idea what they could be scheming, he just knew, by their continued presence, that they had a scheme.
Sieges were a waiting game with lots of tension and not much action once in progress… and no resolution. That's what made them so frustrating to those with no patience. At least with battle there was a swift resolution. Instead, the whole attack was dragged out for days, weeks, maybe even months if the sieged and attacker were unlucky. Both sides generally suffered in a siege unless the ones doing the siege had a steady supply and no enemies to worry about coming behind them.
Dragon knew time was on his side, but he felt the itch of impatient youth clawing at him. He had never before felt the urge to jump down the wall, again, and batter ram his way through the legions of murderous thugs waiting below as strongly as he did now. To just cut loose with unrestrained violence until no enemies remained standing. To just stamp them out of existence and bring this whole mess to an end. It was nearly overwhelming and the siege was not even a week old.
Arrogance and folly. His head knew that well. One man was not going to resolve this, much less a mere eighteen-year-old cadet fresh out of Naval Academy. Dragon fought the suicidal urge down as much as possible. He knew better than to give in to such impulses. His father had brought his "Fist of Tough Love" down on him several times in his youth for not curbing his impulses better. Which said something about Dragon's childhood self that even his poor impulse-control father thought him stupidly impulsive.
Yes, his head knew the lesson well. Dragon subconsciously rubbed the top of it as a phantom throb pulsed from his father's favorite target. Then there was his mother's quiet disapproval. Somehow that was so much worse, to have her looking at him like he was her greatest disappointment, that quiet sigh as she mentally lowered her expectations for him. Mercifully, he had only ever earned that look once.
That day he had decided to take on two pirate ships that had dropped anchor outside of Goa. His ten-year-old self had thought it would be fun to take on real pirates instead of harassing the beasts of the forest, who were in sore need of respite from being his punching bags for weeks on end as part of his Marine training.
He had done fairly well for himself in the resulting brawl, fairly well when one considered the success rate for a knee-high ten-year-old armed with nothing but a lead pipe going to battle with dozens of grown men armed with every handheld weapon known to mankind plus a random bazooka. It had been a good thing that his father's friend had spied him heading for the ships, lead pipe in hand and mad gleam in eye with matching grin, and got the word to his father. Dragon had managed to take down most of them before getting snagged, but the moment he was caught he was in serious danger.
In hindsight he probably should have just smashed the bazooka instead of abandoning his pipe in favor of trying to use it in some variation of ironic justice. While one of his shots did manage to destroy one of the pirate's ships, the rest had just impacted the forest area, ocean and even the constable's headquarters within the city. The forests still bore the scars of his poor aim and control. To say the captains and crews of both ships were pissed was an understatement. The lucky bastards of the second ship had been on deck and blown off when the shot hit rather than blown up. They had then swam over to the first ship and boarded her, thinking they had been attacked by the first group Dragon was in the midst of attacking.
This would have been the most ideal time to flee or at least change tactics during the initial chaos caused when the two crews began fighting each other, however, Dragon, battle mad, had remained and continued trying to hit the men in front of his with his new favorite weapon. The fact that he had hit everything not onboard the ship rather than the crew openly charging him should have been his first clue that a bazooka was not meant for melee fighting. Though, he had successfully, if accidentally, tricked the two crews into fighting with each other, he thoroughly bungled the advantage this gave him by not abandoning the bazooka and ducking out of sight to ambush the men while they cut each other down.
It took only another wild shot, the one that went on to hit the constables' headquarters, for the crews cease trying to kill each other and unite to come after him. Less than a minute later he was caught. The impromptu alliance ended as soon as Dragon was tied to the mast. The captains of both ships wanted the right to torture the impertinent boy to death. Neither would share the pleasure. The delay caused by their dueling had been the only reason Dragon had lasted long enough for his father to arrive.
Garp had been happily at home and not tormenting Dragon, as was his want when on leave, because he was too busy cooing over the newest addition to the family. To say his father was upset having to drag himself away from his youngest to save the oldest was an understatement. He focused most of his wrath on the hapless pirates for daring to threaten his boy, but Dragon was not spared. Most of the bruises he came home with that day had been dealt by his father not the pirates.
The constables' headquarters? The bazooka belonged to the pirates; his father didn't even have to speak before the pirates were immediately blamed for all the damage. Which was good because neither Garp nor Dragon could lie to save their lives. That would have been a pretty penny they would have had to pay to rebuild the headquarters if the city knew the truth. Luckily the constables weren't eager to ask questions and just blame the pirates, since they would have to then explain why no one was in the building manning the front desk or doing tedious paperwork. (Hint: a new gambling house, complete with strip dancers, had opened up just last week.)
When his mother had heard about what happened, after the two had returned home, she had given him that look of profound disappointment and simply said, "Try to accurately access the risk of an operation before taking it on next time. Your father won't always be around to save you from your miscalculations."
Dragon leaned on the ramparts and glared at the Kriegan ships that sat in the harbor, unaware of the impatient drumming of his fingers on the stone. The siege was giving him way too much time to think and recall things he'd rather not recall.
"Do something, already!" his inner self screamed at the pirates.
The pirates couldn't hear him, and wouldn't care about his opinion of how they were conducting their siege even if they could. They had their plans and would just thumb their nose and invite an impatient cadet to come down for a row if he was bored.
To kill time and try to be somewhat productive, Dragon had forced himself away from the wall to research information on the Kriegans. His mother always stated information was vital to conducting a successful campaign. Especially information regarding the actions of an enemy. If one could deduce the reason behind those acts, they could predict their next act. A lesson she had spent a great deal of time drumming into him after his fateful encounter with the two pirate ships. He needed to understand this enemy so he could figure out what their next move was.
It was frustrating, though. The extensive records that would include the Kriegans could only be found in the information archive of Marine Headquarters located on the Grandline. Which was as disorganized as it was old. He had been inside those archives a few times thanks to his family ties, but it was sad to see what should have been an indispensable depositor of valuable military history and battle tactics reduced to a worm eaten, dust collecting mess due to neglect. That just showed how much the World Government cared about maintaining accurate records.
The military records his family carried at the home estate were maintained and protected. They were also taboo, if the World Government knew there was a place outside of the fabled records of Marie Geoise that kept accurate records of what actually happened, both military and political, the place would probably be burned or at least confiscated. The World Government liked to fabricate history in their favor. An accurate accounting of all their actions and, especially, their dirty deeds where it might be read by the general public was unwelcomed.
His grandfather had declared once, to his grandson, that politics were just as damning as an army and possibly even more so. Knowing the politics of the time would give you even more information on how multiple opponents would react. His grandfather was a despicable jerk, hated by the entire family for his domestic actions, but he knew the military inside and out and had great pride in it. His sharp mind, and stubborn refusal to yield his seat, was the only reason he remained the Commander-in-Chief of the military. However, things were degrading around him. The Marines hadn't really started becoming corrupt until his illness had robbed him of his mobility. There was only so much one could do from an office.
The aging Commander-in-Chief, Bernardino, wanted Dragon's father, Garp to take his seat but Garp was just a Vice-Admiral and only the Fleet Admiral could inherit the seat. Two ranks above Vice-Admiral. Kong was the one that held the title of Fleet Admiral but that was unacceptable to Bernardino. He blamed his son's lack of ambition for the current situation.
The clan, however, blamed Bernardino. For nearly eight hundred years, it had been the one baring the title Baron Goldenrei that had held the position Commander-in-Chief. The Barony, the title, the family name always went to the one that proved himself in the Marines and rose to the rank of Fleet Admrial through merit alone. This technically could go to any member of the family who was in the Marines. A cousin, a nephew or a grandson, not just a son. In fact, the heir didn't technically need to be male, just a devoted high-ranking Marine that was a model of justice. Bernardino had insisted on his son inheriting everything.
However, Bernardino's wife had four daughters. Infuriated, he had courted many women, some not so nicely, to try to create a son. Garp was the youngest, born to an unwed tavern owner in Goa. But Bernardino had had a suitable heir. His second born daughter of his wife, had gone into the Marines and made history by ascending the ranks even after she lost her right arm in battle and becoming an admiral. The first woman to do it. She ultimately lost her life in a battle she should never had fought but had done so as a futile attempt to get her father to acknowledge her as his heir. The clan saw her as the true heir and were furious with Bernardino for driving her to her death. They had no sympathy for his current plight.
Garp hated his father with a passion. The man had stolen him from his mother when he was ten and may have even killed her. Garp's mother had not wanted her son to go away with the hated Fleet Admiral. No one knew what had happened to Dragon's grandmother only that she had disappeared soon after Bernardino had taken custody of Garp. Bernardino had then put Garp through military training that made what Dragon endured growing up look like a cake walk, all in an effort to recreate his daughter, Kaguya, the original Hero of the Marines, in the preferred male body. Garp was not Kaguya and Garp had suffered for it.
Still the man knew military and Dragon understood that to understand the Kriegans' plans he needed to understand the Kriegans and their history. He first tried base records, but the base only maintained records for five years. After that it was either disposed of or transferred to Headquarters to be lost in the archives.
Dragon lamented the lack of information on the Kriegans, who operated over years instead of weeks like other organized pirates. That only made this attack's current standing bizarre just from that knowledge alone. Lance agreed with Dragon, even though he was the least knowledgeable of all the cadets on these things. But that was the result of his upbringing and not his fault. Helgram, who should have known better, given his family's Marine history, was dismissive, denouncing it as pointless. He apparently painted all pirates with a single brush and wouldn't move from that fatal viewpoint. The rest of the cadets just lacked motivation. They were cadets, let the officers figure this out and just do as ordered.
Sigh. Those cadets were never going to obtain an officer's rank with that attitude. Future grunts to be handed a musket and thrown on the frontline of whatever field of battle appeared. And probably to die there.
"Think any harder and smoke will pour out your ears.'
Dragon started as a voice broke him from his inner thoughts. He turned and saw Lance grinning at him from his right. Dragon grunted in irritation then turned back to scowling at the distant ships as if he could burn a hole through their hulls if he stared long enough.
"Frustrated you aren't finding answers?" asked Lance. Dragon grunted again; he didn't feel like talking.
Lance seemed willing to talk for the both of them, however. "I somehow doubt an answer is going to present itself by staring at a bunch of ships any more than tearing through the base's diminutive archive did."
Dragon glared, his fuse unreasonable short, the urge to pick a fight seeking a more accessible target with the Kriegans' that were physically and mentally out of reach. "Well, they aren't out there to sun bathe. So what the hell are they doing now that the gate is sealed?"
"Probably enacting whatever scheme is going to get them over or through the walls," said Lance with a straight face. Which meant the young man was fully aware he was stating the obvious.
That knowledge didn't stop Dragon's surge of anger. He slammed his fist against the rampart. "Anyone could figure that part out but what are they scheming?"
Lance didn't flinch back from Dragon's flash of temper but looked at him like he was waiting for a storm to pass. Dragon realized what he was doing and slammed his forehead against the rampart to try drain some of the blood from it. He was never at his best when he got this hot.
"I can't help but think that is the least productive thing to do," Lance said.
"Would you rather it be your head I slammed into the rampart?" asked Dragon while his face remained against the cold rock.
Lance didn't respond and Dragon stood straight again, blood dribbling down his face from the self-inflicted wound, with an exasperated sigh. "Ah! The one time I want to go to Basarol and it's the one I can't."
Lance passed him a handkerchief to dab the blood leaking from his forehead. "What's in Basarol?"
"A really nice archive with accurate records that are kept in good condition," replied Dragon as he held the cloth to his bleeding forehead.
"So we just need to break the siege so we can go to another island to find information on how to break the siege, right?" Lance asked in voice that made is clear he was not to be taken seriously. "Sounds like a plan!"
"Maybe it would be more productive to slam your head into the rampart," snarled Dragon as he pressed the cloth a little harder.
At that moment, a grappling hook topped the ramparts and hooked the stone. Both cadets stared at it, one in amusement, the other in annoyance. The pirates had occasionally been firing grappling hooks up the sides of the wall in an attempt to scale them. A rather stupid move as even a light watch would notice the hooks if they managed to catch and cut the line with halberds that easily reached below the protective chain portion of the line to cut the rope.
Seeing he now had access to an appropriate victim to vent his pent-up frustrations, Dragon grabbed the grappling hook and yanked with all his might. The hapless fools that had begun to climb once it hooked, came flying up from the sudden violence of Dragon's pull. Lance whistled as three foul looking swashbucklers flew high enough to clear the rampart. They hovered in that moment of suspension as upward momentum died staring at the youths before gravity reclaimed them and dragged them back down. They tried to defy it, arms swinging wildly as if they could suddenly gain the ability to fly or swim through air. One managed to snag the ramparts but the other two screamed as they plunged back down.
Dragon reached over and grabbed the man by his collar and pulled him up and over. "I don't fathom a lout like you would know what your bosses are really trying to achieve here, do you?" he asked, and the man began to sweat as he realized he could wind up joining his comrades if he didn't answer the Marine's question.
The man babbled a negative, insisting he didn't know of any schemes.
Lance leaned against the rampart with his arms crossed and said, "Best be honest; my friend is in a really foul mood today and you are a pirate trying to invade this city. I wouldn't exactly lose any sleep if he just pushed you back over. But if you cooperative…"
"I… I… I-I… I really don't k-know anything! Honest!" cried the terrified pirate. Dragon couldn't help but notice the man rolled his eyes away when he said that.
"Then you are no use to me, and we don't have the food or space to waste on you," said Dragon and began shoving the man back over the rampart.
"No! No! Please!" pleaded the man as he gabbed at Dragon's arm and stone rampart, desperately searching for a grip on anything that would keep him from going over, his eye going wild with the immediate advent of his death.
Dragon felt his blood rise again. The image of the woman Pirate Captain surrounded by the bodies of her murdered crew, the fleeing citizens, the ruined town below. How many people pleaded for their lives like this only for this man to cut them down like they were nothing? Dragon's grip began to loosen as he resolved to let him plummet to his death.
"You caught one! Excellent work, Cadet."
Dragon clenched his hand on reflex as his dark thoughts were interrupted by a gentle but authoritative voice. He glanced over while the man remained precariously perched and unwilling to do anything that might endanger his own existence.
Prince Olivier stood two yards away with two guardsmen at his side. "I was thinking I should start letting them reach the top, just so I can question a few of them about the Kriegans' plans. Seems we were of like mind."
The guardsmen stepped forward and Dragon dragged the man the rest of the way over the rampart. The disgusting toady began sobbing in relief. He didn't stop even as he was cuffed by the guards and hauled away.
The Prince smiled at Dragon as the guards and prisoner departed. "If he knows anything, the interrogators will get it out of him. Though, I suspect anyone that was being permitted to try their luck in scaling the wall would not be privy to such critical information but, then again, mistakes do happen."
The Prince then turned to regard the ocean's horizon and silence descended on the three. After a minute the Prince Olivier spoke again.
"You shouldn't let scum like him tarnish your ideals."
"Your Majesty?" asked Dragon, in confusion.
"You were about to drop him. More because he pleaded for mercy when he was of the variety that don't give it than because he was refusing to answer your question." The Prince continued to look out to sea.
Dragon felt a flush of shame spread through him at the Prince's calm words.
"With all due respect, Your Majesty," said Lance, drawing the Prince's gaze. "While I have no problem showing high morals to those with morals, even when they are enemies. I fail to see how being 'better than the enemy' is somehow better when the person would just use your mercy to stab you in the back at a later date, or at least go on to kill many others when you could have ended it all right there."
"That's an interesting viewpoint. I can't say I can argue with it, in theory, anyway. It does make sense to not show mercy to those who give none," replied the Prince, his expression not the least bit troubled. Then he frowned as he said the next part. "But where does the line get drawn. How do you know the enemy in front of you is one with moral or one without? When are you merely stopping a killer and when are you the killer? It's easy to make such excuses to be immoral, not so easy to keep from taking the easy but dark path."
Lance smiled and shrugged. "I guess that why lines exist in the first place. Because most people can't make that distinction, so a harder boundary has to exist."
"And then there are those who should never cross that line, for they may become what they fight against," whispered Dragon. He clenched his fist. It would have been so easy for him and some part of it had enjoyed the man's terror. He turned to face the Prince and bowed his head. "Thank you for your assistance, Your Majesty."
Lance rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, "Okay, note to self, if Dragon starts crossing lines, shove him back."
"You seemed to be distracted a little earlier and working through some frustration," said the Prince, changing the subject. "Tell me, what's bothering you, young cadet?"
Dragon's cheeks flushed and looked away as he tried to decide how much to tell the Prince. Then he sighed and confessed, "I lack action and information. I want to know more about the Kriegans to try and figure out their strategy, but I just don't know enough and the military library on base is woefully lacking."
"If that's all, then why don't you come and use my kingdom's military library," said the Prince with a smile. "It may only deal with things here in West Blue, but that's all you need to have if it's just the Kriegans you are trying to understand."
"Really?!" both cadets said in unison.
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This wound up being super long and there was no way to break it up.
This goes more into Dragon's family history as well as his own personal history while exploring more of his personality. It also has a subtle piece of information that will be critical in one of the 2nd to last Part of Mark of the Wind.
All of the history is my head cannon. I reuse that head cannon between all my One Piece fics if it doesn't argue with the story I'm writing. The mentioning of Kaguya is much more important for the Fire Prince series than Dark Sea Chronicles, and I don't think it will even be mentioned in Storm Warning.
Just a reminder, I do reuse characters, as well as history, across the three series but they could wind up with slightly different personalities depending on what the story calls for. But these three series, Dark Sea Chonicles, Fire Prince and Storm Warning are not interlinked. In Fire Prince, Ace wasn't even at Marineford so he was never even in danger of being killed. In Storm Warning, Ace survives being hit by Akainu's lava fist. In Dark Sea Chronicles it follows the cannon storyline until chapter 900 of the manga, so Ace is very dead and does not come back.
Fire Prince is very much an Ace story.
Dark Sea Chronicles is a Luffy story.
Storm Warning kind of follows Ace but also Sabo and possibly Dragon as well as some OC's. Yes, Luffy gets very much ignored in it except toward the end. (Storm Warning is threatening to balloon out of control with all the ideas that are springing from it. So I'm beginning to develop an original story to cyphon all these ideas over to. We'll see how it goes.)
What's happening to Storm Warning is the reason why Shadow Storm has not been written. Shadow Storm is very dependent on what the actual plot is for the overall series and I need to work out those details before I can continue. Probably it focuses on two OC's and their motivations and developments with Sabo running around in the background.