Click.
Click.
Fwoom.
The tiny circlet of flames pop to life, tiny blue crescents sparking upward at the command of the dial before them. Iron bars held their target in place above them, cooking the underbelly of a wrought iron teapot to heat whatever lay inside. A hand brushes its handle, retreating when the skin inevitably makes contact with the metal's heat. The hand returned, this time with adequate protection, seizing the teapot to empty its contents entirely into another pot, this one already bubbling with water on the verge of boiling. The handle was removed, a spoonful of small leaves sacrificed to the scalding interior of the teapot, their aromatic freshness filling the air as the steam cradled their scent and carried it upward. The smell intensified when the water was re-introduced to the tea, steeping the leaves within. The task completed, the tea's maker withdrew from the kitchen, boots echoing down the darkened halls; the calls of loneliness as only the footsteps could be heard chanting down the grand manor's wide structure. The steps softened as they came to rest, bringing a figure before an opened window, the curtains pulled back to let in the afternoon sun.
Past the overgrown garden of hedges and wild grass reaching higher and higher for the sky, past the stonewrought fence that has long since grown dilapidated with more holes than wall it seems, past the avenue of lush pine trees that swayed idly in the wind as they ran the gamut of a long rolling hill; the figure gazed towards the village far at the wood's end, cradled in the seaside nook that acted as a natural pier for the island. Other than the usual affair of fishing boats and merchant vessels, was one that instantly sparked curiosity. A large hull that throbbed outward, like a frog's neck as it croaked, of dark wood that had collected its scars from the sea. Two heavy masts carrying dark sails the color of night, though the worrying part was what painted on those masses of cloth. The symbol of the skull and crossbones; though this one seemingly was made more to resemble a skull with bulging cheeks, with a spoon and fork making the skull seem to be the dinner plate with the sails as its tablecloth. A tongue hung out from the clenched smile of the skull, as though it had finished some great meal.
"Pirates...hm…" The figure spoke, arms folding behind their back. "Well. This is an interesting day…" Entirely nonplussed, like one were speaking of the weather.
"LISTEN UP, SCUM!" A heavy voice rang through the village, far from the ears of the figure watching from on high. Its owner was a man easily twice the height of a normal person, with three times the width. A large purple doublet coat clung to his shoulders, fluttering in the wind, the same gluttonous skull emblem emblazoned on its back; as well as on the black bicorne hat that seemed all-too small for the fat head it sat upon. His face was one that seemed to more belong to an orangutan, his eyes too small and beady to be human and a series of pudgy chins covered in orange scruff. Heavy gorilla-like arms wielded two weapons; one hand bore a trident equal to the size of this monster, with a flathead mace to match. The heavyset fellow bellowed again, his voice deep and throaty like he had been gargling gravel in lieu of water, "EVERYTHING YOU OWN NOW BELONGS TO US!"
A smile fitted his porcine lips, as he hefted his weapons to the sky, ushering the dozens of men behind him to heft their own weapons in tandem and shout. "FOR WE, THE MIGHTY GLUTTONY PIRATES, HAVE COME!"
A crony stepped forward, facing the villagers who looked on at the crowd of pirates screaming at them. "That's right, you maggots! This is the man who's worth 21 million Belis! Our captain eats whole towns of people like you for breakfast!" The crew cackled in tandem, relishing their pre-raid speech, all bloodthirsty smiles and crazed grins. Laughing and laughing, making an uproar with their buccaneering energy...and…
The villagers sat there, merely watching them as one would a street performer. No shrieks of terror, no running for lives, no fight or flight instinct that would spur the pirates to attack. An eerie calm was all that they got for their show.
"...Uh…" The captain blinked, "Did….did you hear us?"
"We did." An elderly man hobbled his way closer to the pirates, ever so polite as he approached the pirate. He was but a mouse to an elephant, but never wavered in the slightest, even as his legs wobbled more from age and injury than fear. His hand steadying the cane he used to keep himself right. Not a hair to be found on the elder's head, save for the long, braided beard of white that flowed from his chin to his chest. "Ah, but see, um, Captain….um…"
The pirate's eye twitched, "IBERICO YOU OLD CRAP! Don't you recognize me, I'm the most wanted rookie to enter the Grand Line!"
The elder just smiled, "Oh, yes, pardon Captain Iberico...but see...we don't have anything to plunder. We just were plundered after all. We have nothing to give."
"WHAT?!" The entire crew's jaws dropped, including their captain. "WE WERE BEAT TO IT?!"
"Oh yes, I'm afraid." His head bobbed up and down, "We have had the fight beaten out of us to speak...but...it would be a shame if you came here for nothing." Finally, the old man's eyes opened, revealing the dulled greys of his pupils; blindness had settled in. "The man who has all our treasure is up on the hill, you see." The cane was lifted, pointing upward, past the trees that dotted the dales around them, up towards a massive manor that loomed over the village from on high. "In fact, you'd be doing us a favor if you got rid of him. Take it all from him, and it's yours. Then you can continue your adventure once your Log Pose sets."
Iberico huffs, his heavy lips curling into a thoughtful grimace, head cocked as he pondered. "Hmm…"
"Captain!" One of the men behind spoke up, "He's obviously lying! We should just sack the town anyway!"
"Hmm..." Iberico huffed again, "Let's...not be so hasty now." A greedy grin fitted his face as he turned towards his subordinates. "Let's go save these people from this greedy lordling of theirs...and get all his gold! An easy score!" His smile widened as he craned further into his crowd of hooligans. "And...if they're lying...we come back and raze this town and take whatever they have left." The gang all shared a heinous snicker with their captain, as he swung back around to face their greeter. "Old man! We'll take you up on this! We'll...free...your island from this menace and take all his gold for payment!"
"Oh yes, thank you, great Captain Imberico, we will gladly feast your men upon your return. It will be our pleasure to play host for the heroes who saved our people. We may not have much, but it would all be worth it for our saviors." His mouth curled into a thankful smile, as he bowed his head in sheer reverence for the pirates.
Iberico grinned wider still, hoisting his weapons and bellowing out, "LET'S GO, MEN! WE HAVE A LITTLE LORD TO SMASH!" Another rousing shout rang from the crowd behind him, forming an ad hoc mob that began to march on the hill.
Watching from his window, eyes turned towards a cloud of dust that rose from the base of the dale, the woods rife with activity below him. They narrowed at the sight, before turning back to a whistling from behind. "Oh, bother. My tea." And away they went, calmly returning to the kitchen as a raucous gaggle of pirates marched to his doorstep.
Iberico led the charge, thrashing through the woods, his weapons effortlessly clearing a path for his men as they reached the edge of their target's space. His beady eyes took in the sight of a grandiose mansion having been beat to near death by time itself. The luxurious brickwork of its outer fencing was falling apart, there more bricks scattered across the ground than making up of the wall itself. Its gate has long since rusted off its hinges, hanging in disheveled lump in the grass, nature slowly reclaiming the iron doorway as moss and greenery began to overlap it. The mansion itself was in little better shape, its massive northern wing was collapsed entirely, what would have been a decadent series of bedrooms and baths and other rooms afforded to the rich were a cave-in, their goods long since rotted away or crumbling. The roof was in tatters, many windows were shattered, the garden was overgrown out of control, and it seemed more ruin than house the more they looked at it.
"Uh…" He stammered, "What kinda person lives in this dump?" He mused as he stomped forward through the mess, his entourage filing in behind him.
"They were lying to us! No one would live here! Let's go back and burn that village down!" Cries erupted from behind the captain, who felt his cheeks burn with indignation that he had fallen for that stupid ploy.
"I'll wring that geezer's neck for this!" He says, hefting a heavy boot to kick at the front door in frustration.
Before he did, a voice sounded, "Please do not break my house any further, you could just knock."
The pirate blinked, his foot inches from the door.
"SOMEONE ACTUALLY LIVES HERE?!" The entire crew shouts in disbelief as the door nonchalantly opens.
"Oh hello." The voice was masculine, lightened with a polite grace that accented every single pronunciation of his words. Much like the elder, with no resemblance of fear or anger, rather only a calm courtesy filtered his tone, like one was dealing with a guest moreso a hostile invader.
The crew shook off their shock and readied their weapons, falling back into that familiar stance of aggression as their captain grinned his widest. "AHA! Give us all your treasure, little man! Or else you'll suffer the wrath of Captain I-"
"Oh, you're just after my treasure?" The pig-man halted, almost deflated someone wasn't giving their showboating the dread it deserved. The door opened wider, "Oh, well then, help yourself. I just put on some tea, though…" A finger jutted out, counting heads silently. "I don't have enough for everyone, I can put another pot on, though."
"What…" Iberico slouched, as though knocked for a loop with how nonchalant everyone was in this place. "We're...NOT HERE FOR TEA!"
"Oh, yes you're here for treasure. Please, help yourself." The figure turned on a heel, leaving the door wide open, inviting them in. "Take everything you like. I don't mind. I keep most of it in the backrooms. Down the center hall and to your left."
Iberico entered, about to shout more before he noticed the interior of the manor was far beyond anything he could see outside. Heavy silk lined the floor, rugs of intricate pattern work ran the length of marbled floors, pristine oak furnishings held up goldwork of every kind. Candelabras, painting frames, even golden silverware utensils were found. The crew entered in slowly taking in the decadence of the place, as their host returned with a cup of tea. "Here you are, captain. Oh, yes, take anything you like."
The pirates surged in, eagerly snatching for everything they could stuff into bags and their pockets, one man eagerly shouting down the hallway. "CAPTAIN! There's bags filled with money!" He pulled out a bag, eagerly showing off the piles of bills inside.
One could hear Iberico's mind as it overflowed with serotonin to the tune of a cash register. "Take it all then!" He said, taking the cup for himself. "You're a smart man, little lord!" That porcine grin returned as he blew on the tea, delicately sipping at it...before downing it all in one shot.
"Thank you, then again, I have no need for it." Their magnamious host replied, before turning to the captain once more. "Though, I would kindly ask no one to take from the second floor's first bedroom. That's all I ask...there is no treasure in there, only personal effects."
"Hmm?" The captain snarled, finally detecting a hint of resistance at last. "Listen here, you little punk…" A fat finger shoved at the man, "We're gonna take everything here, and you're gonna thank us for not skewering you like a shish kebab and frying you up! Po...Po...POHAH HA HA HA HA!" His arms threw back, as his head did the same, cackling with villainous glee as his men swarmed around the manor like ants.
"I see." The figure said, and took a step back.
'As you shou-" Iberico shot back, looking down at...nothing. Their host was gone, like a ghost. A blink, "What...the…" He huffed, "Oh well, probably ran away. MEN! TAKE THIS PLACE APART!"
"YEEAAAHHH!"
Upstairs, one of the crew looked at a door, and tried its knob, only to find it didn't budge. "Huh?" A scowl fitted his face as he mimicked his captain, and hefted a boot up. It crashed into the door, forcing it open with its hinges squealing in pain.
"Now then...what's in here?" He said, holding up a lantern to peer inside. His face peered in, only for his eyes to widen his shock, skin turned pale, and a look of sheer horror on his face. His heart pounded in his chest, mind screaming to run and yell for his captain.
Bump.
He ran headfirst into a figure looking down at him, eyes cold. "I warned you." The politeness was cold, like a winter's wind that froze his heart.
"CAP-" Was all he got out before the figure lashed out at him, silencing the man forever.
Iberico turned upstairs, looking upward. "What was that…" he muttered.
"CAPTAIN, HEL- AUUUGH!"
"NO PLEA-"
"AAAHHH!"
"RUN RUN! AAAAAAAH!"
"OH GOD!"
"HELP US!"
"CAAAAAPPPTTAAAAIN!"
Voices erupted around the house, the darkened corners everywhere hiding a scream...followed by silence. He just realized that he was all alone in the foyer, not a soul of his crew was around, they had all chased after treasure. He took a step back, the china he was holding shattering to the ground as he backed towards the door. Fear paralyzed his voice, he couldn't yell for his crew, or their attacker. Sweat beaded down his face, and he chose flight over fight. As he turned to the door, he found it was blocked. Those same eyes that had greeted him stared upward...not a trace of joviality or fear in them. Not a trace of anything. "You pirates are all the same. Never satisfied...even offered everything...you take more."
"W-what….are you?" Iberico stammered, eyes wide.
"...Nothing." Came the answer, as in an instant later, Iberico was clutching his throat, choking on his own blood as he strove to grasp at the new wound on his neck. Both hands desperately tried to keep in his precious life as it drained from him, only to fail as he collapsed forward in a heap.
The figure flicked the blood from his knife, beginning to clean it with a cloth. "...but a man borne to kill."