Kuzan stood statue-still in the antechamber outside of the council room doors, waiting to be admitted. He had been forced to bath-though hurried along before he had the chance to shave his unkempt cheeks-and stood in his official marine wear, officer cloak hung fashionably over his frame, small parts of brilliant blue color highlighted by the pristine white which was present elsewhere.
After but a few moments, one of the council room doors soundlessly swung open, after which the same agent sent to retrieve him ushered him inside.
Five high-ranking individuals sat around a disproportionally small table, their relatively towering visages almost managing to make the otherwise serious scene comical, but no. As though cut from jade, their sharp and distinct features tore whatever sense of levity potentially present brutally down. Each of them represented a vital facet of the Government, each having responsibility for individual core functions within it. Yet, even while taking in all of the opinions from the lesser nobles-the royal families from around the world in support of the Government, they would together, with differing viewpoints hash out a plan in which was most just and fair for everyone involved.
Or, at the very least, that was the picture they intended to project towards the world at large.
They were deep in discussion, and initially, paid Kuzan no mind. The smallest of the five elderly men met his gaze briefly, and held his hand up, motioning for him to wait. Kuzan saluted slowly and incorrectly, earning a few irked eyebrows among them, yet, they made no move to include him in the conversation just yet.
Kuzan briefly entertained the idea of listening in to what they were talking about, but found himself unable to, only incomprehensible murmurs without any rhyme or reason entering his ears. It didn't feel natural, but he couldn't be bothered to do much about it.
The hurried fashion in which he was hunted down and rushed here was starkly contrasted with the time it took for him to actually be addressed. Minutes passed and still- still, they did not acknowledge his existence with more than a passing glance. It didn't take a lot of brainpower to conclude it was a powerplay of sorts.
Good thing then, that Kuzan's nerves were frayed to the point that the bothersome treatment he was getting not only didn't faze him, but allowed him to better gather his thoughts and control his emotions.
Small mercies and all that.
"We are in agreement, then," said the visibly youngest looking member of the group, his blonde hair still present among the otherwise white- and bald-headed men. His words were met with a combination of nods and muttered affirmations, some of which were happier sounding than others.
As if on cue, the five of them turned to stare at him, coldly appraising him. Kuzan resisted the impulse to look away.
"Admiral Aokiji," the blonde said, by way of greeting.
"Elders," was Kuzan's somewhat flippant answer, spoken without hesitation.
"The admirals are the World Government's finest," the blonde continued, the only one of the group unperturbed. "They act as a unit as our strongest bulwark against both the savages at sea, and any unrest from within. And yet…" he paused briefly, "I've heard that your last mission ended in failure. The pirate; Nico Robin, The Devil Child. She still eludes our grasp?"
"Correct," said Kuzan.
"Correct," the elder repeated. "And same with the rest of the pirate crew, which you've been made aware of has several high priority targets, all managed to flee?"
"Correct," said Kuzan.
"Correct," the elder once more repeated, a tinge of annoyance marring his tone. "I would not have thought a man as capable as yourself would find it so difficult a task to tackle, hatchlings as they are."
Kuzan firmly stared forward, face stoic.
"Well, some stuff happened, I guess."
"..You guess?!" another elder spat, as if the words were poison, destroying the picture he otherwise maintained as a calm monk.
The blonde elder gave a noncommittal grunt, full of judgment. His eyes moved briefly to a paper parchment situated on the central table, before once again resting on Kuzan. "But this was not the reason we summoned you," he said. "In light of your good service the last decades, the aforementioned mistakes wouldn't have warranted a meeting like this, a small reproach, perhaps, if even that would have sufficed."
"However, we've come to know that you've invoked our authority to leave for unknown amount of time, and worse- to an undisclosable destination?"
Kuzan straightened his usually slumped posture, sensing the severity of the situation. "That is incorrect."
The elders collectively clenched their jaws.
The monk abruptly glared at Kuzan, his eyes wild.
"If this is your idea of a joke, know that it is in. Very. Poor. Taste." He snarled. "It has come to question whether to not you have the governments best interest at heart."
"Er," said Kuzan, seemingly caught off guard. "It's true that I've gotten orders from above to do just those things, just not…" Kuzan petered off, eyeing the still present government agent, the very same who fetched the admiral earlier that day.
"Speak." The blonde elder prompted.
Kuzan, still looking uncharacteristically hesitant remained silent, eyes rapidly switching between the increasingly tense agent and increasingly agitated group of elders.
"Now." The blonde followed up, losing his patience despite his best efforts to keep it in check. Their foreknowledge of the admiral's character ended up doing little to prepare them for the meeting. Calm and serene group of people though they usually were, not a single one of them remained unbothered.
Kuzan gave a terse nod, raising one of his arms, he pointed a single finger into the air. "I repeat: I have truly gotten orders from above. Just not from any of you. We are…" Kuzan hesitated, "We are both aware that you are not at the top of the food chain, are you able to admit as much?"
The room -which had warmed up considerably during their heated conversation, seemed to freeze over in an instant, and for once, not through Kuzan's powers, but words.
Ragged breaths escaped several of the elders, their wide eyes and otherwise still frames clear visual tells of the shock received.
As for the agent, he could well and truly only be described as a mess made flesh. The earlier arrogant figure was nowhere to be seen, the only remains a shivering figure on the ground, which slowly -oh so slowly kept inching towards the doors, his quivering appendages doing a poor job in making it a subtle escape.
It wasn't to be a long struggle however, as not even a moment later, the blonde elders' right hand blurred fiercely, unleashing a dozen or so aerial finger bullets, all directly hitting vitals.
What a waste.
Such were the thoughts of all five the elders. Truth of the matter was that the recently deceased agent was one they actually favoured quite a lot. Born as a fifth prince with six brothers, and three sisters, he had an extremely adaptable disposition, with great enough skills and knowledge of social interaction to never step out of line with anyone of importance, yet still doing whatever job assigned competently.
He knew what information was acceptable to know, and what was not. His feeble attempt at leaving proved as much.
If allowed to grow, he would have no doubt occupied a reasonably powerful desk job within the government. A station which would have eclipsed the reach and power of the kingdom which he originated from- a place he abandoned originally, where his destiny would amount to being nothing more than a wallflower with no real power to his name.
Kuzan briefly glanced at the now rapidly cooling corpse behind him, before moving his gaze forward once more. "Well?" he further questioned.
The eldest looking elder, a relatively tall man with both white long hair and beard, shakily answered. "Y-Yes."
Kuzan nodded, looking satisfied.
"Then, need I say more?"
The elders all briefly met each other's eyes, if only to make a token show of discussing. Though none of them knew how the two of them had come into contact, and for what purpose, they all knew not to hamper, interfere or question their lord's motive and plans.
Earlier generations of elders had done just that.
All of which were dealt with.
Which made the next words a matter of course.
As though rehearsed, a chorus of solemn voices rang out.
"No, you need not."
Merchant Thorpe Morn had a strong feeling that this would be the last week of his life.
One way or another.
He had a few years ago entered his fifth decade of life, as evidence by the many grey hairs sprouting from his head. He had a below average height and a scruffy appearance, wearing clothes which would not be out of place on a homeless person. It would be easy to mistake him as such, but, clinging to his last vestiges of pride, he still viewed himself as a merchant, though mockery of one he may well currently be.
He and his remaining family of three were currently stationed in Yuba, one of the more newly built cities in the kingdom of Alabasta. He had moved here seeking business opportunities in the wake the of the warlord, Crocodile's defeat. It briefly functioned as a stronghold to the rebellion, but as it was, it had no real niche or established economic ecosystem built. Blinded by avarice, he sold off their then current establishment and took off. Even before the whole disaster that was Crocodile, the area of Yuba and its surroundings were well known to contain its fair share of bandits and other unsavoury people. However, the word of mouth in Alubarna, the capital city of Alabasta, was that in the aftermath of the tyrant's demise, they all but disappeared. He believed it.
He shouldn't have.
He knew that now.
Rather than disappear, they merely adapted, hiding behind loosely made laws, made by and for their kind of people. The city was a significant amount of land away from its ruling capital, so the means to which to get help through proper channels were few and far between. The life of the average man wasn't too bad, but if you had ambitions to make it either politically or economically, you either had to have a different reputable gang backing you, or you bent down to the first one which came knocking, with all that entailed. He didn't.
He should have.
He knew that now.
Most of his earlier contacts, which had faithfully traded wares with him for years now, had suddenly stopped responding. And only a month ago, his last remaining one, which was an out of country deal, suddenly told him the trade route which stopped by Alabasta no longer would, because of several gigantic glaziers slowly drifting about in its path.
He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
He had many times settled for doing both.
Instead, what became his new forced way of getting anything was through the very same gang who had a chokehold on his living conditions. They would supply him both with money through loans, and wares sold directly by them.
With both ridiculous conditions and prices, of course.
He had been unable to pay enough money back recently.
It was in this predicament he had met an extremely tall and intimidating man, who he originally assumed was their executioner, but ended up willing to pay him a preposterous amount of Belly for the simple service of lodging and food. He wore unassuming dark clothes, together with a beanie and a pair of sunglasses. He was tan, so he might've been a local, but he had never heard of such a person before.
He had no choice but to accept the money, his situation being what it was.
Still, he had a lot of reservations regarding letting the man within a touching distance of either of his children.
Though, it seemed to be going okay so far…
"Uncle Ao, I learned subtraction today!" Sofia Morn, his four-year-old daughter.
She spoke proudly.
"Hoho. Well done." The extremely tall and sturdy man, who presented himself as Ao.
"Test me! Give me a problem!"
"You're sure? Alright, then…"
For a moment Ao reared his head back, as if in thought.
"What's ninety-seven minus fifty-six?"
"...Ah?"
Sofia's pupils momentarily trembled, and gained a glossy shine, as if they were preparing to cry. She hesitantly raised her fingers, attempting to count using them, but quickly found out that she didn't have ninety-seven of them.
"Th-that's…" she suddenly choked out.
The man called Ao quickly became flustered, or his equivalent anyhow. Thorpe had so far found him to be a laidback and calm individual. In fact, this was the most emotion he had seen from him so far.
"Ai. Ah. Ah. I mean, I misspoke. What I meant to say was: what's seven minus two?"
Sofia eyed the man warily, before once again slowly raising her small pair of hands, concentrating on lifting and closing her fingers.
After a few moments, she let them down, after which she let out a meek-sounding answer.
"…Five."
Ao at least seemed to have been around children enough to realize what was appropriate now, and was quick to praise.
"Woah. That's correct. You learn quick, don't you?"
"Ehehe."
Thorpe bristled when the man lifted his gigantic hand closer to his daughter, but all that came of it was a harmless head pat, which his daughter seemed to like well enough, if the happy giggles were anything to go by.
He hadn't been with them for a week yet, but potential trouble down the line ignored, the man had been a well-needed breath of fresh air. It had been so very long since he had seen his daughter smile and laugh like today. Ao had briefly mentioned that studying was the cheapest way to raise one's worth, something which his daughter had clung on to, having already sensed the poor state of house, and wanting to help out.
And so, without much fanfare, he started teaching her about a several things, first of all letters and numbers.
It wasn't a bad sight.
His son however…
He had been very cross with both him and his sister as of late. It had been bad in the years before, but the sudden dire situation the family found itself in seemed to be the tipping point for him. He hadn't seen him since last week.
Garm, his son, was thirteen this year, and he was seriously starting to worry about the direction his life was heading.
His wife died in labour while having Sofia. They ignored the medical warnings about possible complications that came with age, and paid the price for it. It pained him greatly at the time, and still did. But, as one should with life, he learned to live it. He didn't fault Sofia one bit either.
Garm did.
As a consequence, there was a rift between brother and sister which he as a parent wasn't able to mend. It wasn't as if he didn't see where his son was coming from, and so, while they were affluent, he tried to endlessly fulfil his sons every wish and desire in the hopes of filling in the void where a mother's love should have been, with his overflowing own.
It didn't work.
Yet he kept wanting to make it all better, which was why he became addicted to making money, for his family's happiness. It was what moved him to act on his thoughts to move their business to Yuba in the first place, without proper planning or research.
Such was his desire to see their family whole again. Or, at least, as whole as it could get.
Still, he didn't fault his son for it, as may should have. No, his guilt was too large, feeling responsible for the entirety of the situation.
He loved both his children fiercely, and though a welcome respite the man named Ao was, he would be the first to step up and punch the man should he ever become an enemy to them.
He really didn't hope it came to that though.
He'd rather not break his fingers in the attempt.
Once again, thank you all for your continued interest. Looking forward to seeing what you think. Until next time :)