A/N: My philosophy professors would either love or be completely appalled by this.
Also, I need to respond to a few of my reviewers:
Emaegx - your DMs are turned off, so I haven't been able to thank you directly for your kind and consistent reviewership. Thank you for the steady boost of confidence each update. I'm so glad you're enjoying the story!
Guest Reviewer WaterLily - Holy cow. That review made me feel so incredibly seen. You started out with a complete understanding of the challenges I've faced shoehorning this final installment into Oda's timeline. I did decide it's all going to magically take place after Fishman and before Punk Hazard just to avoid complicating the story further. Hopefully we can all suspend our disbelief on how much time I have pass between the two canon arcs.
I loved reading your theories about what might become of Ilium. I shall remain tight-lipped to avoid spoilers, but I will say you are very astute.
Cygnus is also one of my favorite characters, not just in this story, but that I've created period. I chuckled when I read that in your review, knowing that this chapter happens to feature him. Perfect timing.
Even your "one complaint" was a compliment. That you want to see more of the God Powers implies I've created something worth seeing. And will we see more of their powers in the future? Perhaps!
I could go on, but I'll let you get back to why you're here, which is to read the story! - And for the record, you did not need to apologize for any aspect of your review. I think I speak for any sane author on here that a review like yours is the creme de la creme! Thank you for taking the time to write out your thoughts, feelings, and theories. Now, on with the show!
Ch. 42 - Silver Tongue Cygnus
The Calm, and Helena's coma, lasted far longer than either the crew or Ryubokuuans expected. With regard to the Calm, Ramzez seemed puzzled as the days turned into weeks. He said the only explanation could be that there must be some poor soul out in that Calm making the Stormwyrms angrier, causing them to continuously mess with the barometric pressure. He and his bee riders went out on searches every few days, but never found anyone.
With regard to Helena, it was anyone's guess when she would be ready to wake up. The haki band remained strong. The only upside to her long sleep, Zoro noticed, was that she was finally starting to gain weight. The sharp, gauntness in her face after her trauma and illness had started to fill out. Her abdomen even started to seem distended a bit. The nasal feeding tube they had her on must be doing its job.
Fortunately they hadn't had to intubate her, but they did have her on oxygen. Zoro had gotten used to the various blips and beeps of the machines tracking her brain activity, heartbeat and oxygen levels, as he, Kuina, and sometimes one of the others took to her bedside daily.
A few weeks into it, Captain Monkey D. Luffy of the Straw Hat Pirates found something urgent that needed Helena's attention. Though he burst into her infirmary room as loudly as he possibly could, she slept on, completely oblivious to the terrible news.
"Your Dad!" he cried, waving the latest newspaper above his head. "How did this happen?"
Zoro stood with his fists balled for a fight at Luffy's cavalier entrance, but he checked his angry response with one of sudden concern.
"Something happen to Pops?" he asked. "Don't tell me they've executed him."
Luffy's flexible brow formed a trench of deep dissatisfaction as he shoved the paper into Zoro's face.
"Silver Tongue Cygnus," Zoro read the bounty poster, and his face brightened, "Wait, that means he got out! Hector's got one too. Wonder how they managed it. Helena, this is awesome news!"
Ramzez had encouraged them to keep talking to her as she slept. He'd said that talking to her would keep her grounded in reality. Helena didn't respond to the good news, however, and Luffy had something more stressful on his mind.
"Yeah, they got out of Impel Down. That's not the bad news," he said, grinding his teeth, "Look at that bounty!"
Zoro finally got it. In an instant, his energy matched Luffy's as he shouted at his sleeping wife:
"500,000,000 berries?!" he cried. "How the heck did your Dad get a bounty higher than yours and mine combined?"
Due to his status as a king with potential connections to God powers, and given no official wanted him to die before he could be publically made an example of by way of execution, Cygnus de Leda had initially been placed in the relative safety, and ignominy, of Level Six.
There had been some concern at the outset that his apparent lack of physical prowess might leave him in danger even there, given the types of criminals he shared space with. However, it was to everyone's surprise that within a day of his incarceration, Cygnus' presence had a profoundly positive impact on the other prisoners.
Guards reported back to the Chief Warden, Hannyabal that the usual jeers and threats they received going down to give out meager provisions had ceased. The prisoners in Cygnus' cellblock started thanking them for their less than appetizing rations. They stopped making attempts on the guards' lives as well.
At first Hannyabal had been afraid it was some kind of ruse or trick concocted by the notoriously wily king and his cellmates, but as the days turned to weeks it became clear that whatever change had happened had been, apparently, permanent, and unnervingly sincere.
When Hannyabal himself asked why their behavior had changed so radically, the general response the prisoners gave, in somewhat lofty tones, was that they had learned to be lovers of wisdom. When asked how and why, they all pointed to Cygnus.
"I'm afraid to truly understand," the Philosopher King had said upon further questioning, "You would have to sit in on our next discussion. But the short of it is, a lover of wisdom is a lover of The Good and all things that from it stem. We here in this cell block are simply trying to grasp the things that matter most, and in the process see the errors in our own behavior."
"HA! You think it matters if you reform? You're never getting out of her," Hannyabal had threatened. "You'll be here til you rot!"
"Ah, but in the end, what is truly sacred but the freedom of one's own mind?" King Cygnus had countered. "And what is more detrimental to the freedom of the mind than one's own lusts and attachments? In separating us from the world, you have given us a gift, Chief Warden, for here we are separated from the temptations that would otherwise cloud our judgements. Here where our bodies lie chained, our minds can find true freedom."
"Yes, thank you sir," one man cried. "I have never found peace like this in all my days of piracy."
Hannyabal stared at him, utterly perplexed as Cygnus went on:
"Would that all who see themselves as prisoners here could understand the generosity of their Warden," he said with a smile. "Your praises would ring through every stone of this place."
That stuck with the Chief Warden, gnawing at him for a few days until he approached Cygnus in his cell again.
"Do you think you could convince other levels that they should be singing my praises too?" he asked the bound king.
Cygnus looked up at him and smiled.
Level Five, the Freezing Hell, had proven difficult for the Philosopher King's constitution. The cold had exacerbated his limp, a wound he'd acquired in the recent fall of Ilium. He hadn't the ability to run from the wolves of that plane in his state, so he was allowed a cell there. And from his cell he continued his philosophical discourse.
Within a few days, Hannyabal came back to check on them to find one man thanking him for granting such a warm imprisonment.
"For what is cold but a relative state?" The level five prisoner pointed out. "This cold is only cold if compared to the heat from the floor above us, which we will thankfully never experience."
"Indeed," another prisoner agreed through chattering teeth. "We are much obliged to you, Chief Warden, for seeing fit to grant us these conditions wherein to contemplate the cold nature of our own souls. Indeed, this cell is warm in comparison to the state of my frozen heart. Perhaps, then, to truly warm myself I must first become warm within."
Glad to hear himself praised, grateful to have submissive prisoners, but mostly curious to see what Cygnus could manage next, Hannyabal moved the ex-King up to Level Four, the Blazing Hell, and left him there for a few days also.
When he returned, more of the prisoners were affected this time, for Cygnus had not been confined to a cell as he hobbled along with the others to bring his share of firewood to the giant cauldron of boiling blood.
"Does the heat exist merely because I sense it, or do I sense the heat because it exists?"
"I think it is there whether you sense it or not," Hannyabal answered the next man he questioned. Said prisoner had just cheerfully tossed his wood pile into the flames, apparently unbothered by the sweat dripping into his eyes.
"Then it is like Truth," the man went on, "For the sophist, Truth is relative to who may argue best its existence. But for the philosopher, it exists whether we come to a Knowledge of it or not."
"What's a sophist?" Hannyabal asked.
"Why, it is one who loves argument over wisdom," the man went on.
"So…a philosopher then?"
"Not so!" cried the man, clutching his heart as though wounded, "For a philosopher is a lover of wisdom, and will use argument only to come to a knowledge of Truth."
"So does the heat exist or not?" Hannyabal asked, trying to decide if the man had answered his own question.
"I think the better question is whether or not you or I exist," the man went on. "Do I exist because I think or do I think because I exist?"
"Uh…" Hannyabal's head was starting to hurt. "...Yes?"
"Wow! You're so enlightened," the man exclaimed, "But such is to be expected from our Chief Warden. You are right, the answer could indeed be both!"
Hannyabal liked hearing himself called enlightened. So he approached Cygnus about moving up another level.
"Alas, I am afraid this is becoming a most dangerous endeavor for me," Cygnus protested. "You see, while many of these prisoners simply need guidance, and the power of philosophy to occupy their bored and unfulfilled minds, the more prisoners I am exposed to the more I am likely to run into those who would fight back rather than embrace the love of wisdom."
"Are you talking about sophists?" Hannyabal felt very smart to now know the word.
"Alas, I can deal with sophists. Sophists are lovers of argument but not necessarily lovers of blood," Cygnus went on, "There are those who can and will physically attack those who try to lift them out of the cavernous shadows of their own minds. Such an occurrence happened just today, and I was nearly pushed into the Cauldron. While such a fiery demise might have pleased the gods for my many sins, and freed my soul to forever contemplate The Good in her truest form, it would have left your Wardenship without a philosopher to help guide further souls. And also leaft his Wardenship without an ex-King slated for execution."
Hannyabal blinked at him. "What are you suggesting?"
"A bodyguard for this frail prisoner, sir. A friend whom I can trust will have my protection at heart."
"No one has friends in Impel Down," Hannyabal pointed out.
"Then I suppose we are at an impasse," Cygnus sighed. "It would be best to return me to the solitude of Level Six."
"I could protect you. Or one of my guards," Hannyabal pointed out.
"Ah, but who would listen to me? They wrongfully see you as the enemy and not the enlightened educator you truly are," Cygnus countered. "I need a few days to open their eyes to your generous nature."
"Don't you have an ex-General who was imprisoned here with you?" Hannyabal asked.
Cygnus feigned surprise. "How astute! Yes, he resides on this very floor and is the very man who saved me from being pushed into the flames."
"Is he your…friend?"
"His Wardenship has pointed out that no one has friends in Impel Down."
"But would he protect you?"
"Oh yes, I think that he would," Cygnus agreed after appearing to think on it for a moment. "But you must keep his sea prism cuffs on. I am sure he would be too tempted to use his powers given the chance."
"Well that's a given," Hannyabal agreed.
And so, now accompanied by Hector, Cygnus soon moved up to Level Three.
Meanwhile, Hannyabal had begun to receive compliments from his superiors on the latest statistical reports. In levels six through four, riots were down, incidents of injury to guards had practically disappeared, and the only complaint came from those wondering if indeed the prisoners were suffering enough.
Within the dry caves of the Starvation Hell, Cygnus found more willing ears to fill with wisdom. Hannyabal walked in on such a lecture, and wasn't sure he understood it all. Something about shadows on a wall, and prisoners unwilling to leave their captivity for feeling complacent within the lot they had. Hannyabal liked the sound of that.
Not a single prisoner whined at him for more food upon seeing him at the end of the lecture. Indeed, when one woman's stomach rumbled, she sighed, "Ah, but what use is food in feeding the soul? My stomach is empty but my mind is full!"
"I'm starting to wonder if you've made these people too comfortable," Hannyabal pointed out as he escorted Cygnus and Hector to Level Two. "They are here to suffer after all."
"If I may be so bold," Cygnus interjected. "Your wardenship has indeed cultivated a most admirable garden of affliction, such that each body fortunate enough to find censure within these walls suffers the most exquisite of physical tortures. Those who suffer most in the mortal plane are made susceptible in their pain to the enticements of philosophy, and those who embrace a true love of wisdom do indeed groan in spirit for their own misdeeds, not because of the punishments they currently are receiving, but because in embracing The Good, their own filthiness is illuminated. They desire to be good for Goodness' sake, and suffer for their sins because they see their sins for what they are, not because of the retributions they receive. Such suffering supercedes any physical torture attainable in this life."
"Uh…" Hannyabal wasn't sure he fully followed the logic. "So you're saying…?"
"In making Philosophers of these prisoners, they see the error of their own ways, and feel really badly for what they've done with their lives," Hector translated helpfully. "They are hurting more inside than they ever could feel in physical torture."
"I guess that makes sense," Hannyabal conceded.
The ex-general proved a great help on the next level. Though something had happened to his left arm during the fall of Ilium, for it hung limp and useless by his side, Hector still possessed a good deal of power and fighting prowess. Thus, he managed to keep Cygnus alive and out of reach of the many beasts prowling the Wild Beast Hell. This also made it possible for Cygnus to go from one cell to another, freely sharing his wisdom with a majority of Level Two's inhabitants.
The prisoners here were more than glad to share their new found enlightenment with Hannyabal when questioned a few days later.
"The beasts of this floor merely illustrate the baseness of allowing one's appetites to rule one's reason," one prisoner concluded. "They are thus like the tyrants of this world."
"Indeed," his friend agreed. "And tyrants can never find happiness, for their desires are never fulfilled and they live in fear of their victims rising in revolt. I pity our beastly guards, don't you? They need their freedom more than we! Freedom from the unjust nature of their own souls."
"I've always thought they liked their jobs," Hannyabal pointed out. "After all, they often get a good meal out of eating one of you."
"All sin in ignorance," came the reply. "If they truly knew The Good, the enjoyment they have felt in the tearing of man's flesh would pale in comparison with true happiness."
"And are we not indeed coming to realize this for ourselves?" the companion locutor replied. "Our lives have been spent on baseless, empty pursuits. Would that we had had the wisdom of our Warden in choosing our life's path."
"Yeah, and now you're stuck here," Hannyabal reminded them.
"And we can only thank you for it," the two prisoners concluded. "We needed to be removed from the presence of others, and placed in the presence of these base beasts in order to see ourselves in them clearly. How many atrocities have you saved us from committing to the detriment, not only of others, but to our own souls."
Hannyabal of course wished to move Cygnus up to Level One after this, but the ex-King resisted him.
"Forgive the frailty of my flesh, your Wardenship!" he'd cried. "I fear to walk on each pinprick is indeed deserved, for each drop of blood drawn therewith can only basely mirror the blood that Ilium has shed under my watch; however, should I venture above thus unprotected, I fear my ability to speak should be lost for the pain, and without my voice I can no longer help my fellow prisoners."
"The cells aren't covered in needles," the Warden reminded him. "You'll only have to walk on them to get to your cell, and we won't move you after that."
"The diseases these prisoners must get," Cygnus muttered under his breath, but he went on in his wheedling tone, "I fear I will not make it to my cell in my frail state," he said, "Moreover, the range of my discussion would be quite limited. You have seen as I have traveled upward, that the more prisoners with whom I come in contact, the more effective I can be in helping these poor souls recognize their Warden for the true Benefactor that he is. "
"Ah, sir! Could I not create a safe wooden pathway on which you could walk?" Cygnus' bodyguard put in.
"We're not about to remove your sea prism cuffs," Hannyabal snapped back.
"Yes, t'would be foolishness to allow you access to the razor sharp trees of Level One," Cygnus agreed. "Such a power would tempt any man to treachery. Forgive my friend's eagerness to help, sir. I am sure it stems from earnestness over wisdom."
"The trees aren't made of wood…" Hannyabal pointed out.
"Indeed?" Cygnus feigned surprise. "All the more reason to leave the cuffs on then. My friend's powers don't work if he has no wood to work with in the first place."
"Ah, but sir, I do have a splinter in my thumb," Hector admitted, "Leftover from my work on Level Four."
"A mere splinter?" Cygnus examined the thumb in question. "Why, such a piddling amount of wood could not do much harm, could it? At least, not to one as powerful as his Wardenship and those he sees fit to guard us."
Hannyabal's deep set brow turned downward. "I've seen enough of the devil powers to know…"
"That your personal strength indeed surpasses many of them?" Cygnus supplied for him. "This does not surprise me in the least! Any less of a man would not be fit to be Chief Warden!"
Of course, this had not been what Hannyabal was about to say. But to say any differently would be conceding he wasn't fit to be Chief Warden, and of course, more than anything he wanted to be Chief Warden.
Cygnus plowed on. "Well, then by all means! Uncuff this man, for his suggestion to help me spread the light of philosophy is a sound one, and the potential to do harm with his powers, minimal."
Though Hannyabal had no sound argument against this logic, he couldn't help a sense of reticence as he produced the key and undid the big man's cuffs. His fears were apparently unfounded, for Hector did not go into attack mode, nor did he do anything in the coming week other than protect himself and the former king from the needles of Level One.
Hannyabal found himself just in time to catch the tail end of Cygnus' latest lecture at the end of said week. He'd gathered a group of prisoners on a large platform; an island of wood amid the needles in the middle of the Crimson Forest. Though he ought to have been angry at what Hector was doing to relieve the other inmates' pain, what he heard pleased him greatly:
"Now we see that the true definition of justice is the natural balance of the soul, just as it is the natural balance of society. The one most fit to govern, governs, the one most fit to protect, protects, and the one most fit to create, creates. Kings, warriors, and artisans. Reason, spirit, and appetite," Cygnus smiled warmly at the Chief Warden as he noticed him before going on:
"We know it is just for Reason to rule over Spirit and Appetite, just as we know it is just for our Chief Warden to lead us here within our echinated home. The Chief Warden is Chief Warden clearly because he is fit to be Chief Warden! This is Justice!"
A prisoner jumped to his feet and applauded. The rest of the prisoners followed suit. Though covered in lacerations from their latest tortures, they turned toward Hannyabal, shouting his praises.
Feeling particularly merciful after this ovation, Hannyabal allowed Hector to leave the platform where it was, and to create a comfortable path on which the prisoners could return to their cells.
"Well, Cygnus, you've done it again. It looks like I should take you back to your cell down in level six. If you're good, we can have you make more visits to the other levels to keep teaching them."
"Nothing would please me more, your Wardenship," Cygnus cajoled. "Though if I may be so bold to ask, are your subordinates as respectful of your position as your prisoners? I understand there were some complaints when Magellan stepped down. Perhaps they could benefit from a lecture or two on the true nature of Justice, just as you heard me give here!"
Hannyabal didn't have to ponder this more than a second before agreeing. Why just that morning he'd overheard some guards complaining he wasn't half the warden Magellan was, prison break or no!
So the following day, Cygnus, accompanied by his friend Hector, sat in a cushy conference room enjoying clean water from a cooler, and bagels and schmear from the nearby breakroom. The group of senior officers Hannyabal had gathered responded to Cygnus' locution, first with incredulity, then fascination, and finally full acceptance over the course of a few days, this time before the Warden's very eyes.
After that, Hannyabal made sure every guard, officer, and prison cook under him had a chance to hear Cygnus, which meant the ex-king gave the same lectures several times over the following weeks. In that time, morale skyrocketed to an all time high. Complaints about working conditions fell to an all time low. People clocked in early and clocked out late. Smoke breaks turned to philosophical discussion breaks.
And best of all, people stopped comparing Hannyabal to Magellan. They didn't put down the old warden, agreeing with Cygnus that justice meant Magellan leading back then and Hannyabal leading now. Hannyabal rather liked this, for though he had striven for Magellan's position, he had a profound respect for the man.
By now, the prisoners down in level six had started growing restless again. When Hannyabal told Cygnus as much, he swiftly agreed that they likely could use more discourse.
"Ah, how quick man is to lose his way when left too long to his own faculties," Cygnus observed. "It would behoove us, methinks, for me to visit all levels again in due time. But before you transport me and my friend back down again, would it not be of some benefit for me to speak to the marines situated outside this base? Or have their murmurings impugning the honor of Impel Down and her keepers ceased?"
Indeed, their grumblings had not ceased. The marines had far too much to say against the high security prison in light of the infamous prison break two years prior. Not that they had done much to stop the prisoners back then either.
Thus Cygnus and Hector soon found themselves aboard the largest and most powerful of the twelve marine ships outside of Impel Down.
Uncuffed.