Chapter 9

Meeting of the Two Magicians

"And who the hell are you?" Zoro growled, keeping his katana pointed at the interloper.

"Basil Hawkins… Though, I suspect you wouldn't care about that, would you Roronoa Zoro." The pirate shuffled his deck of cards. Hawkins' tone was so calm and collected, it was unnerving.

Maxwell's eyes darted around. Marie and doctors were all shivering in terror. They were discovered, hidden in a crowded back alley, witnessing a stand-off with three dangerous pirates. If a fight breaks out, they would be the first caught in the crossfire.

Basil draws a card and looks at the face. Tarot cards, Maxwell realizes. Mostly used for fortune telling by charlatans and hedge witches. Maxwell never tried to predict the future before. It wasn't encouraged by the Circles, and was limited to local traditions that didn't even work most of the time. But with Hawkins in front of him… He wasn't going to assume anything, based on home.

Hawkins looks back at them again. "I've come to invoke the right to Parlay. I wish to speak to you, Magister Trevelyan."

"Huh?" Both Straw-Hats look at the Magician, stumped. What was this guy on about? Hawkins just wanted to talk? Why!?

"Hm…" Hawkins shuffle his deck and take a look at the top card, "You two seem unaware of the Pirate Code… Very well, when one invokes parlay, the initiate is brought towards the captain for negotiations. Both sides cease hostilities until diplomacy is concluded. However, since Straw-Hat Luffy isn't here, and I couldn't care less about him, I'll speak to you."

"And why the hell would we want to talk with you!?" Zoro demanded, his grip tightening on his sword. "Just so you can ambush us? Again?"

"Because unlike most pirates, you two actually retain honour." Hawkins responded. Both Maxwell and Zoro blink at that. Honour was a bit of a stretch, but they were certainly more reasonable… "The Code is a rather old fashioned notion. Even I don't really care for it that much."

"THEN WHY BRING IT IN THE FIRST PLACE!?" Both Zoro and Maxwell barked at the pirate captain with pointed teeth.

"Because I hold information your captain would care about, very dearly. Something that will made public in the next few days. You might be able to get ahead of it." Zoro and Maxwell both pause. They had to think very carefully about what this guy was saying. "And I wish to know something only Trevelyan knows. Thus, the parley."

"…The information you have for Luffy…" Maxwell decided to respond. "If it's about an all you can eat buffet, you realize we couldn't care two shits about that, right?"

"Nothing so mediocre," Hawkins drawled, waving his hand. "I will even have it in my hand for you to read, if you're interested. It should take about…" Hawkins draws another card, "52 minutes to retrieve it."

Both Maxwell and Zoro glance at each other. Maxwell had promised not to stir a commotion during their time here. However he likely broke that promise as soon as that World Noble noticed the nurse was missing. And having the attention of a notorious pirate captain was the kind of thing that got you noticed! Zoro didn't care about the island, or it's people, but he did care about his crewmates. Except for maybe that crap cook. He could go die alone for all he cared. However, he wasn't going to tolerate any of his crewmates being harassed without just cause… That and this scarecrow looked like he could put up a good fight.

…

…

…

Maxwell sighs. "Zoro. Take the nurse, the doctors, and our patient here somewhere safe while I talk with our new friend here."

"What!?" Zoro jerks back, looking at Maxwell, "You can't be serious!?"

"Deadly." Besides, he want to learn some information about Hawkins himself. Magic was a rarity after all. "After that, head back to the ship or try to find an old man named Rayleigh. I'll tell you about why, later."

Both pirates glare at each other, testing their resolve. Zoro stares at the mage head on. He wanted to make sure Maxwell wasn't about to do something stupid. The mage could put up a fight, but he wasn't a physical fighter. Meanwhile, Maxwell was only looking at Zoro through the corner of his eyes. His main focus was on Hawkins. Maxwell did not want to show any weakness in front of their potential rival.

"…Tch!" Zoro sheaths his sword.

He'll follows orders… for now!

The swordsman then pokes Maxwell in the chest, "Don't get yourself killed." The doctors lead him out of the alleyway, Marie wearing the doctor's lab coat and hiding her nurse headband. They were going to carry that Judy guy out on his shoulders again.

Maxwell nods minutely, hoping Zoro doesn't get lost. This was a confrontation Maxwell long had thought about, since he reading the newspaper. He knew magic existed in this world. Spiel, Maxwell and Luffy's first opponent together had proven that. The fluctuations and interaction of the Fade were even further evident. But now, he was staring down the biggest anomaly he could face in this world. Another mage!

…Don't get him wrong, Spiel was a sorcerer too, but that pigtailed idiot was a blowhard. Too confident in his own abilities. As soon as you caught him off guard, he was a sitting duck.

Hawkins though was much more dangerous. All details in the newspaper seemed to indicate Hawkins was a mage in nature. From his obsession with cards, to the seemingly perfect invulnerability Hawkins was told to possess. And if he wanted something from Maxwell… Well, hopefully, they'll both be pulling teeth by the end of it.

Hawkins motions behind him, to the other end of the alley. "Shall we? I happen to know a rather hospitable restaurant we can talk in private..."

O O O

"H-H-Hello! My name is J-John and I will be your waiter this afternoon… W-Would you two gentlemen like to start off with a choice of wine?"

The restaurant Hawkins brought him to was called the Paradiso Island tu d'Fore. It was an upscale eatery, with white walls, framed skylights, and candle lite chandeliers overhead. The circular tables were draped in white cloth, folded cloth napkins, and paired with pristine vase dowel chairs.

"I'll have the chardonnay," said Hawkins, "I quite enjoyed that bottle earlier."

Hawkins and Maxwell sat at one such table, sitting opposite of each other. Maxwell sat there with his back towards the entrance. He didn't trust Hawkins, and Maxwell sat there in case he ever needed an exit strategy. Hawkins sat at the table calmly, consulting his tarot deck. His men were lined up behind him, each one staring at Maxwell with a menacing look. They, apparently, did not share their captain's dower disposition.

"Merlot… Though, don't bother opening the bottle." He didn't expect any charity here.

One pirate with a bald head, except for a tail of dreadlocks, looked like he was about to blow a gasket. He was likely the most zealous, despite not being in the robes. Another one wore a colourful tribal mask, similar to what he saw on Skypieans, though smaller. Maxwell couldn't see a face behind the mask, so he couldn't gage his expression. Another member was freaking cat! No seriously! He had the eyes, the ears, the fur, even the whiskers! A full anthropomorphic black cat, wearing a ruff and cloak! Everyone else just just wore hooded robes and stood behind Hawkins's lieutenants.

"Right—! Right… I'll be right back…!" Their waiter hurried off quicker then a nug toward a mud hole. And that was saying something!

The tables around them had actually been moved back. Everyone in the restaurant wanted to give the pirates a wide birth. They may have had other pirates be customers here, but they never interacted with other crews before! This was not typical pirate behaviour! And some were scared a powder keg would go off at any minute!

"Hm, Curious…" Hawkins turned he gaze back to Maxwell, "I thought you would have enjoyed a glass of wine."

Maxwell took a sip from the glass of water in his hand, "Unfortunate as that may be… I don't expect any of your charity from you. We're not friends after all."

"No. We're colleagues," Hawkins agreed, "Practitioners of both piracy and the mystic arts."

"Interesting way to phrase that…" Maxwell tapped his fingers on the table as he rubbed his beard, "Is that how your teacher described it?"

"No. Though she was a rather miserable old hag. When she had nothing left to teach me, I cut her down before she could put a shiv through my neck and pull out my organs."

"Hm…" Hedge Witch, Maxwell thought. Most apostates back home were associated with some sort of affiliation. Tevinter, anarchists, malificarum, Aavar shamans. Hedge witches were even more reclusive than that. Private practitioners or reclusive covens staying away from most of society, with their own beliefs and secret practices. Some were benign, staying well out of everyones way, while others were barbaric or downright disturbing.

If Hawkins's master used human organs in her own practice, then Maxwell shuddered to think what he had learned.

Hawkins looked at a card. "I take it you had a fairer education? A tower perhaps?"

Maxwell froze, thinking how the Blight was he doing this? His questions were deliberate, not simple guesses in idle conversation. "…I was raised in a monastery. Sent to it at a young age in order to hone my gifts. 'Magic exists to serve man… And never to rule over him.'"

Hawkins gave a disinterested hum, "How quaint."

The heavy footfalls of their nervous waiter were loud over the tense silence of the restaurant. "H-Here you go sirs!" He cradled two bottle of wine in his left arm. The white chardonnay Hawkins ordered, and a red Merlot.

John then suddenly remembered what the Maxwell had said "Ah… Are you sure you wouldn't like a glass?"

"I only mentioned it to be polite," Maxwell waved the waiter off. "I have no money to pay you the moment," Maxwell then raised his glass, "But the water is free!"

"Ah… And here I was wondering what to do with this street urchin." Hawkins signalled one of his men forward. Both Maxwell and the waiter went bug-eyed when one of his crew members brought out a child from beneath the fold of his cloak.

"Mrr-Mrr—Mrrph-Mm-Mmr!" It was the same boy that had stolen Maxwell's money clip! Hawkins had him gagged, hands tied behind his back.

People scooted back, realizing one of the pirates had a hostage. Whatever this was, it wasn't good!

"I caught this boy trying to pickpocket one of my men while I consulted my cards. They said that the boy may have a 65% chance to be of use during this negotiation. I thought he may be of interest, but he's nothing more than a common thief…" Hawkins eyed the pouch around his waste. "He has your money, doesn't he."

Maxwell remained quiet. This boy did have his money.

"I propose a trade," Hawkins negotiated. "Unrelated to the information I have towards your captain, I will give you this boy, and whatever beri he owes you, in exchange for three honest answers. Otherwise… Well, my quartermaster has quite the temper." Dreadlocks was already reaching for his sword, wanting to gild the little street-rat.

"…Very well."

Maxwell stood up, out of his chair, walking over to where the boy was being held. Hawkins nodded to his henchman, and the cultist holding the boy stepped back into line.

Maxwell stood over the thief as he cowered in front of him. He was tied by the ankles, Maxwell realized. The boy wouldn't be able to run even if he wanted too. He was surrounded by pirates and he had already robbed one of them! This thief was right to be afraid.

Maxwell took a good look at him. Scrawny build, torn clothes, scuff marks on his skin. He had sandy blonde hair and brown eyes, and the boy couldn't even look Maxwell in the eye.

First, Maxwell summoned his money clip from the boy's pouch.

It shot up, back into his hand, responding easily to the magic. Maxwell realized it was bigger than before. The boy had been using it to store his other paper bills.

The kid jerked at having the money stolen, but then he realized he was looking up at a pirate. And now her seemed even more scary! Maxwell's normally green irises were glowing an ethereal lime!

The mage stuffed his money back into a pocket he had in the lining of his jerkin, then he conjured a Spirit Blade.

People gasped as they saw the golden weapon. Pure light in the form of a sword. They thought he was going to gut the poor lad!

Maxwell raised his weapon and the boy flinched as he brought it down. He closed his eyes trying to shy away from the up coming pain!

…Only, there was no pain.

"Wab—?" His eyes widened. In those two strokes where he head the humming of the sword, they had actually cut his bonds. The gag now hung loosely in his mouth.

Maxwell stared at the boy and the thief stared back for being spared. He stabbed the ropes holding the kid's feet together then turned back to the table, "Go… Get out of here." The sword disappeared. It was a clear dismissal!

"What!? You're just going to let that brat—!?"

Maxwell conjured the Spirt Blade again and this time pointed it at the throat of Hawkins' quartermaster. "Do you have a problem with me?" This time his eyes were shining a complete ghastly green, sclera and all. The blade even shone bright, and somehow seemed more solid.

"Grrk!" The thug really tried not to flinch but he couldn't help but tremble at the unnatural glowing orbs that held his gaze. Any doubts that this guy was anything like his captain had suddenly been soundly silenced.

Hawkins was also looking at his lieutenant, though without any outward concern. He already warned his men that they only had a 33% chance of beating Trevelyan if they ever tried confronting him individually. Oh, he would avenge them. But I was their choice whether they fought him or not.

The man gulped and stepped back, getting back in line with his other crewmates. The sword disappeared. He was ashamed for backing down, but his friends tried to convey their sympathies through simple pats and concerned looks.

The boy however, ran out of the restaurant like a bat out of hell. He never wanted to encounter these pirates ever again!

Maxwell then turned to the waiter. "I'll have the sirloin steak, medium rare, with green beans and baked potato. You can leave the bottle now.

"And I'll have the spinach fettuccini alfredo, with baked cheese on top," Hawkins order..

"Huh?" The waiter took a moment to realize, "Oh! Right!" He quickly jotted down their orders and then ran off to the kitchen. That had been too close!

Maxwell sat down, pulled the cork out of the bottle, then drank straight from it. He chugged the bitter fruit juice down, then slammed the butt onto the table. "…Your questions?"

"Your 'monastery,' what did they teach?" Hawkins got straight to the point.

"My 'monastery' was a place meant to keep mages like me away from regular people. We were a self-governing prison conglomerate controlled by our religious institution. Kept under guard and watch until deemed otherwise. We were encouraged to be academics, but the Chantry did have a use for battlemages when the need arises." The Blights were a primary reason. Magic had the possibility of changing the outcome of a battle. Whether that be decimating darkspawn or resuscitating your allies back into fighting shape.

"And your techniques stem from this combat training?"

"Most," Maxwell nodded. "But I've been learning a lot since coming out to sea, including bojitsu."

"And making contracts as well, apparently." It was common knowledge by now that three demons had assisted the Straw-Hats at Enies Lobby. Reports show that the devils had differed to Maxwell in the moment of battle. Thousands of marines were devastated by their spell, and one even sunk several battleships.

"Funny you mention contracts…" Maxwell stroked his own beard. His familiars lit up in their anchors. "Those cards of yours. Are you aware that there is a spirit bound to them?"

He hadn't sensed it till now, because he thought it was only Hawkins manipulating the cards. Hawkins was only part of that. He was mixing his mana with that of the deck. The spirit, or demon, bound to it shared it's knowledge, imparting clairvoyance, through the choice of cards. Maxwell couldn't tell what kind of spirit had possessed them, but they haven't rebelled yet. So their were either agreeable to Hawkins purposes or tightly bound.

"Is that so? That would certainly explain the certainty I've had with my deck." It also might explain why he was always always speaking in monotone! It was like talking with one of the Tranquil! "A parting gift from my old master." Which was broken by that damn chuckle of his.

Maxwell could sense the aura though. Like a clouded hand hanging over Hawkins' shoulder. Cold, calculating, lifeless. As if waiting to be commanded. Maxwell could feel his own familiars stare both behind and beside him. They were warm, vibrant, and anticipating any given threat.

"Last question, since you brought it up." The aura disappeared, like it never existed to begin with. Hawkins meshed his fingers together, leaning on the table. "Are spirits usually employed in your branch of mysticism?"

"…Somewhat," Maxwell decided to answer, carefully. "While we are trained to brew potions and cast spells, apprentices could only ever be deemed true mages after you passed your Harrowing. It was a right of passage for us mages, where you had to fight off a demon trying to possess your body. Those that failed were killed by a Templar watching vigil. And you were never given time to prepare beforehand."

Maxwell certainly understood the purpose of it. If a mage lacked mental fortitude then they were a liability, both to themselves and others. And all abominations were mostly crazy. They could mutate the flesh, cause irreparable damage, and kill hundreds if left unchecked.

Maker forbid if he mentioned the Mortalitasi, or any other encounters he'd had with spirits. He did not want to give Hawkins anymore ideas!

"How perfectly morbid." Hawkins starts tapping his own finger against the back of his hand, "Though, that does make me wonder how you got out of the country..."

The mage didn't bother to answering that one. "Now I have a question," Maxwell told the Magician. "You seem to define magic as mysticism. While I view magic as a skill. Did you come to use that terminology yourself or were you taught that?" Hawkins looks up, as if considering his answer.

"…It is a skill," Hawkins admitted. "However, magic is not organized like it appears to be in your homeland. So tradition must be respected. To be thankful for your induction and skill. Even I must pay my respects for the voodoo I preform."

"Voodoo…" Maxwell eyes widen, realizing something about Hawkins. "That's how you've survived against the marines for so long! You use sympathetic constructs to inflict your injuries onto others!"

"How astute of you." Hawkins finally gave him a smirking grin as Maxwell figured out his little secret.

"Damn you…!" Maxwell cursed, leaning back in his chair. That may be the worse case of blood magic Maxwell could think of. Even if you weren't drowning in a ocean of blood. He was disgusted. That was probably over 2000 marines haven been afflicted by blood magic. They may have been marines, but it was still preformed on sentient beings!

Question was, how did he manipulate his flesh to recover from the wounds? And preform a trifecta symbiosis with the victim, the construct, and himself, on multiple people?

"It appears our food is here," said Hawkins as footsteps approached their table.

John laughed nervously as he set their posts in front of them. "Spinach Fettuccini Alfredo with b-baked cheese. And the Sirloin Medium Rare Steak with green beans and baked potato." The spaghetti was styled in a squared deep plate, topped with basil. The cheese was still warm, releasing wafts of steam. A slice of garlic bread baguette was on the side. Maxwell beheld a well seasoned 8oz steak, with a well placed stack of boiled beans, and steaming cut stuffed potato with sour cream, bacon bits, and green onion. "Um… Would there be anything else, gentlemen?"

"No." Both mages don't even look at the waiter. They were either looking at their food or carefully watching each other.

"Good—! Good…!" the waiter laughs nervously, again. "I'll just… let you enjoy your food." John turns around, leaving them to their meal.

Both sat in silence with their food in front of them.

"Well… I suppose we can conclude negotiations after dinner," Maxwell snarked, unraveling the napkin containing his silverware.

"Indeed." Hawkins does the same. They both place the napkins in their laps and then begin to dig into their food.

Maxwell cuts the steak first. It was nice, bouncy. The juices even poured out as you cut. However, Maxwell couldn't help but compare it to Sanji's cooking. The spices were a little unbalanced between the salt and the peppercorn. His beans almost had no flavour, beyond your standard greens. And the potato was denser then he was used to.

Hawkins just just poked, twirled, and scooped up his pasta. Maxwell honestly couldn't tell whether he was enjoying it or not…

They sat in silence eating their food. Not talking. No staring. Just eating.

Neither man wanted to be interrupted during their meal…

O O O

…Somewhere in an auction house waiting room…

"Mister Disco something amazing came in today!" a clown entered the room where his boss sat at a desk.

"I know," Disco smiled, "The big prize today is the giant, right? Just leave it to me. I'll make sure to bring up the price." He was the auctioneer and owner of Grove 1's Human Auction House. The man sold people for a living! "Are the shills ready?"

"Better than that! It's a mermaid! A young, female mermaid!" His henchmen replied. "I think there's going to be a huge bidding war over her!"

"Really!?" Disco looked up from his papers. "Show me!"

They walked out of the office and headed towards the holding area where they kept all of their slaves. It was connected to the stage where they auctioned off their wares to the highest bidder. Men, women, even a giant sat along the back of the cage where they were held up. Everyone of them had a pair of manacles around their wrists, and a slave collar around their necks.

"Let me go! That hurts!" Two clowns were carrying in a mermaid, holding her by her arms and the end of her tail. "Hachin will send you guys flying!" It was Camie!

"Oh my!" Disco grabbed her by the cheeks, appraising her, "How rare! We'll fetch a huge pice for this! She seems to be in good shape! And she's got some fight in her! Who brought her in?"

"The Hound Pets," a clown responded.

"Peterman, huh? Well done. The Flying Fish Riders didn't bring anything in this time." Those idiots had actually been one of his largest suppliers in recent months. A shame they were dropping the business.

"Bleeeehhh!" Camie stuck her tongue out at the human. She wanted to convey just how disgusting he was!

Disco slapped her for that. Knocking her out of his henchman's arms.

"You damn fish!" One of the clowns held him back, before he could stomp on her head.

"Wait, Disco! She's a valuable auction piece!" "If you hurt her, the price will drop!" "If you're going to kick her, at least do it somewhere where we can cover it up with her clothes…"

…Disco finally scoffed, wrenching himself out of the clown's arms. He understood what they were saying. That didn't mean he couldn't put this fish in her damn place!

"You…!" Camie was scared, but she put up a brave front. Even with the tears in her eyes, "HACHIN WILL KICK YOUR BUTT, TOO!"

Disco scowled, "Cheeky little—HHRRRRGGH!" However, any disgusted thought he had about her was interrupted by a sudden sense of dread. He face went white, like the Devil himself was looking down upon him. It was heavy… It was undeniable!

Disco fell over, fainting onto his back.

"Eh…? Disco!?" "Hey, what's wrong!? Disco!" All the henchmen panicked when they realized their boss had suddenly keeled over. "Doctor! Somebody get a doctor!" The clowns lifted their boss and carried him out of backstage. They always had a doctor nearby in case a slave was bought injured, or they tried to kill themselves. However, they never thought they'd needed one for one of their own. They left the slaves alone. Camie helpless on the floor.

"…Hey… Old man… Stop acting innocent."

The giant in the slave pen was looking down at the human beside him. "That was you! It was some sort of Haki… Just who are you?"

He had a lion's mane of silver hair, with unshaven whiskers, and a peculiar goatee on his chin. It had five trails, led up to his lips, like some sort form of talons. He also had a vertical scar running down one eye, and wore a pair of rimless round spectacles.

Silvers Reyleigh just chuckled, a flask of rum in his hand. "I'm just and old man who owns a coating shop. And love young girls… you know?"

O O O

…When they finally finished their food, John asked them if they wanted dessert. Hawkins and Maxwell both declined. They wanted to finish their talks and then be on their way.

"Alright… Let's get down to the meat of the matter." Maxwell threw his napkin back down on the table. "I know something, and you know something significant to my captain. What can I possibly know that interests you?"

"…The spirits are afraid," Hawkins spoke. "Don't take me for a fool, Magister. I've seen the loa of the Grand Line in almost every island I've come across. They may be distant to me, but I know that something unusual is happening in the dreamscape. What do you know of it?"

Maxwell froze. He was referring to the Nightmare! Does that mean—

"Take a look at this," Hawkins pulled out a paper and threw it over to Maxwell. The article highlighted was a hospital report. Over 50 people trapped in a coma! Each fainting under mysterious circumstances. Toxin reports indicate no sudden drug use and no amount of stimulation is apparently working. Is this the work of some new kind of pirate? A deranged assassin?

Maxwell frowned, "This is an article based in the North Blue." And it was happening on multiple islands.

"Normally, I don't care about what goes on back home. However, I recognized several names on that victims list. So, I reached out to a few of my contacts…" Several of Hawkins' men shuffled agitatedly. "Those that have responded told reports of being attacked in their dreams. And each knew several other associates that had been attacked or fell silent."

"That's rather interconnected for such a rare ability—"

"There's always been an underlying culture of apprenticeship in the North Blue," Hawkins interrupted him. "However, each lineage guards their secrets jealously. So, we're often hidden and rather reluctant to interact with one another. But that's neither here nor there."

"I consulted my cards." Hawkins then began to rise unofficial his chair. "And after extensive questioning, I divined that YOU know something about this threat."

Maxwell tried to speak, but the magician cut him off again. "It's not just happening in the North Blue, Magister. South, East, West, it's happening all around the world! You are the only other sorcerer on these seas that uses your power publicly, and you are not some weakling like that East Blue disgrace, 'Six Spoke' Spiel. You know something, and I want to be prepared.

Maxwell sat there silently, staring at the Magician. On the one hand, Maxwell could keep silent. He could have Hawkins worry himself to death and let the Nightmare play with his essence. But on the other hand, mages around the world were falling victim to that demon. If it had learned how to consume other wisps and spirits, then everyone was in danger. The only ones protected were the people living on the Grand Line…

"…Will you tell your associates about what's attacking them?"

Hawkins nodded, "Of course."

Maxwell sighed. He was going to have to tell him.

"…Contrary to any religious belief, spirits and demon are two sides of the same coin. They formed through the collection of psychic residue, leftover from thoughts and memories. This energy, once congealed and powerful enough, produces a spirit. These spirits are attracted sympathetic situations according to their affinity, and are generally harmless. However, when a spirit is denied these observations or does not understand what is happening, they can become corrupted. The demon prowling what you call the dreamscape is one such demon. And it is as ancient as it is powerful." Hawkins' crew begin to look between one another. This was powerful information Maxwell was giving them.

"It is a Demon of Fear. One that I call the Nightmare. Feeding off the terror of your nightmares as it plucks the dream from your mind. Until now, it's been content just to catch and release its prey, like coming back to a fruit tree. But this," Maxwell taps on the article, "indicates to me that it's now gorging itself."

"What's stopping it from feeding on us in the Grand Line?" Hawkins asked coldly. He hadn't dreamed of it, but he could tell it existed.

"Frankly, the Grand Line itself," Maxwell told him. "There's some sort of natural barrier that blocks dream walking into the Grand Line."

"The Calm Belts," Hawkins deducted. "That just leaves how know all this."

Maxwell breathed out through his nose, "…I will say this. I was once in the demon's clutches. And it does not let go of it's prey so easily…" What he did not tell Hawkins was about his rocketing through the Fade. Which just so happened to start in the Nightmare's domain.

"…I see." Hawkins sat down, back into his chair. "Thank you for sharing this with us."

"Your welcome… Now about that information you had—"

"CAPTAIN!" A man burst through the doors of the restaurant. It was another one Hawkins' crewmates dressed in robes. "You got to take a look at this!" He seemed to be in shock, holding up a news flyer.

Hawkins waved his subordinate over, "Give it here," standing up and out of his chair.

The man runs over to Hawkins and the pirate captain reads the paper. Maxwell couldn't make out anything on the backside.

"Well, this is dire news…" Hawkins then looks at Maxwell and hold the paper out. "Your information."

"What?" Maxwell blinks. This was his information? A news flyer!?

"I said I would have information your captain would be most interested in. And I would hold it in my hand approximately 52 minutes after our initial greeting. This is that information. I never said I already knew it beforehand... Do you still want it?"

"You bastard…!" Maxwell shoot up out of his chair, letting the chair fall back. "You played me!"

Hawkins gave him a sly grin, "The advantages of being a fortune teller. Besides, none of your crew would have learned about this until it was too late. So consider this me being generous. I have what I want, and a deal's a deal."

Maxwell stomped over to Hawkins, "Give me that!" and ripped it out of the Magician's hands.

He read the flyer.

…

…

…

"…What…!? No, nononono!"

By Order of the World Government:

We of the Mariejois Judiciary system have found one Portgas D. Ace, Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, found guilty for the crimes of Larceny, Piracy, Association with Piracy, Destruction of Public Property, and Arson.

The sentence for these crimes, is death.

His execution shall be carried out on the first of August, at 12:00 pm on the execution platform of Marine Headquarters. Ten days from now.

A public display of this execution shall be broadcast live, across the world on Proko Den-Den Mushi. All citizens of the World Government and associated islands are required to attend this broadcast. Broadcast stations shall be set up on all World Government associated islands.

Failure to comply with this public order shall be considered a treason against the World government. And those found in contempt shall be justly arrested and persecuted for their crimes.

Reminder: The execution of of Portgas D. Ace shall occur on Sunday, August 1, 1522 A.O.H. All citizens are required to attend.

Thank you for your cooperation.

Portgas D. Ace was about to die…

Luffy's brother was about to die…! IN TEN DAYS!

"SHIT!" Maxwell disappeared into the Fade Step, dropping the paper and bolting right out of the door. Hawkins and his crew were left alone in the restaurant.

The Magician hummed in contemplation, "I wonder how his captain will react…?"

O O O

Maxwell had to find Luffy! He had to find him, FAST! The Sabaodey Amusement Park was in Islands 30 to 39, right!? "F***!" They may have had five days before the execution, but they had to spend this time planning a rescue. Luffy was never going leave his brother alone too the marines!

Maxwell was worried. Maxwell was angry! Maxwell didn't know what to feel, he just had to run! Find Luffy!

Damn that Basil Hawkins for tricking him! He never had the information to begin with! He just stalled Maxwell out while trying to pry sensitive information out from under him! And damn that Shakky as well! She knew something about this. She just didn't know his relevance of Portgas D. Ace to their crew!

"HEY! TREVELYAN!"

Maxwell stopped running and looked up. It was one of the Flying Fish—correction: One of the Rosey Life Riders, flying on their flying fish mount.

"THANK GOD!" The biker brought his fish low, hovering above the ground. "You've got to get on quick! That mermaid chick you guys were with— She's been kidnapped and likely being sold as we speak!"

"CAMIE IS WHAT!?"