Chapter 4
What Do You Do With a Drunken Sailor?
"What—?" Maxwell didn't dare move. "Who are you!?"
Saga leaned forward, inching the blade closer to Max's jugular, "My name is Saga of Shimotsuki Village. And you WILL tell me where Roronoa Zoro is!"
Shimotsuki? "Why the blighted hell would you want to know about Zoro!?" Maxwell had never even heard of this Shimotsuki Village! Yet this guy said it like the settlement was supposed to mean something!
Saga just pointed the sword closer, "WHERE IS HE!?" The longsword wasn't glowing as bright as when the thug tried to draw it, but the bloody aura still shone in the jewels along the sword's length.
The blade itself was actually pristine, compared to its ratty hilt. It's long gilded tang was a swirling pattern of leaves and tree vines, spaced out evenly between seven jade jewel caps. Maxwell could practically taste the bloodlust emanating from the blade. The sword was honed to a wicked edge, a perfect instrument of war!
Meanwhile, Schneider finally got up off the floor, getting over his initial shock. "What the hell!?"
The old pirate looked between Maxwell and Saga, then realized what the stranger had just said. "Wait, you're Maxwell TREVELYAN!? 'The MAGISTER,' Maxwell Trevelyan!?" Schneider looked at the mage in surprise. He did not expect his saviour to have been another pirate.
The sword flashes, and Saga has it pointed aimed at Schneider. "Hey! I'm the one asking the questions here!"
Maxwell then jumps out of his chair and slams his hands on the table. Saga's hand twitched at the mage's movement, his sword flickering back to Maxwell's neck.
"Then I'll repeat myself then. What. Do. You. Want. With. Zoro?" Maxwell glared at the swordsman. If this guy had a problem with him, then he should keep it with him! If there was one thing Maxwell hated, it was "swordsmen" bringing other people into their problems!
"…I…" Saga grunts through gritted teeth, "need Zoro's help…!" the swordsman finally growls. Saga's face is snarling, frustrated and flushed, as if the mage should be more compliant with his request!
He ignores the scent of alcohol on Saga's breath. "With what?" Maxwell had no idea who this was, or what he could possibly want with Zoro. But if he had a problem with him, then he had a problem with all of the Straw-Hats!
"…GRRR! JUST TELL ME WHERE ZORO IS!" Saga yells at the mage. The shine and the bloodlust of the sword brightens to a fever pitch. Patrons move back, having heard the argument. And fear grows as they see the unnatural display of power.
"You should know, I don't take very kindly to threats…!" Maxwell's own mystical aura begins to shine through. His eyes glow a sickly green mist. Mana swirled about the mage. And the signature marble veins seem to burst onto Maxwell's skin.
"And you can never know what to expect with pirates, Trevelyan!" Their auras clashed like a pair of tectonic plates. A towering green monolith versus a viscous red spear! Red and green, rubbing against each other into a wavering white line, threatening to snap!
Schneider watched anxiously as the two youths squared off. Barely an hour off his deathbed and he was already dealing with confrontations! Buzz had already jumped in Schneider's arms. The dog didn't like where this was going anymore than his owner.
"I've dealt with enough pirates to—!" Saga's aura suddenly lessened, to the mage's surprise. He squinted at Maxwell, as if Saga was trying to recognize something through his hazed dark eyes.
"…Actually, where's your beard? You sure you're Maxwell Trevelyan?"
…The mage groaned, his head dipping down at Saga's evident observation. Damn it, he did miss his beard…
Saga's body then begins to sway, like the alcohol in his system was catching back up to him. Only his hand remained steady.
Maxwell, on the other hand, had also dropped his aura. He gently pushed away the sword from his neck. The sword was no longer a threat, but it still looked wicked sharp.
"Everything alright here, fellas?" The three men then turned their heads to see Ever, their waitress, starring at their table. She had a baseball bat in her hands, one with a noticeable nail in the cylinder. Three men were on the floor, Saga, Maxwell, and Schneider looked like they were about to start round 2, and everyone had cleared out of the bar. Everyone except Ever, who looked ready to beat up all three of them if she didn't get an explanation.
Saga then dumbly realized he still had his sword out. "Ah… yes. Eh, everything's fine here…" He sheathed his sword, then grabbed the back of a chair to not suddenly topple over.
Maxwell spied Saga's hand as he sheathed the blade. There was a faint wisp of the Fade coming off it. Maxwell had no idea who this was, but he was a swordsman, and an alcoholic. Yet clearly Saga didn't have Zoro's constitution… What was with his hand? And how did he know Zoro?
"…Alright, you're cut off," Ever pointed at the drunk. "You've been doing nothing but sleeping at your table and drinking all day. Your tab is due."
"Right…" Saga reached into his robes and pulled out a coin pouch. The swordsman opened it, reaching in to grab some cash, but Saga paused. He felt around in the bag, feeling for some beli bills or coins, but found none. Saga then tried turning it over to see if anything would fall out, but for naught.
Saga was penniless.
Ever breathed in, then let out a long breath through her nose. Her anger was building. She tapped the head of her bat in her hand, relaying her displeasure. If Saga didn't do something, then it was going to be Ever who was going to take him out back into the lane.
…But this gave Maxwell an idea.
"Wait!" Maxwell stood up from his seat, and walked around between Saga and the waitress. "How much does, er—Saga here, owe you?" the mage asked Ever.
"98,000 beli."
GRK!
"98,000!?" Maxwell heard Mordred shout in his mind. Nami would have wrung them out to dry if they spent that much!
The mage didn't even bother to hide his grimace, but he still asked, "What if I covered the bill for Saga here?"
"What!?" "Hey! You're already paying for my meal, laddie!" Both Saga and Schneider looked at him like he was crazy.
"Well…" Ever looks up and down Maxwell, noticing his well dressed attire. Even if one of his sleeves was a gimp sock. Ever refocuses though and shakes her head out of any thoughts she may have been having. "Do you have enough to pay for all three of you?"
Maxwell reached into his breast pocket, beneath the folds of his jacket, and pulls out a medallion. "I was told to present this towards any local business, if I had any troubles paying for my expenses."
Ever silently gasped as she saw the medallion. The mage was holding what was locally called, a Spider's Parlour. A divisible, hand crafted, token featuring a spider signet above a prismatic jewel.
The tablet was about the size of a human hand, and was in the shape of a heater shield. The legs of the spider were detachable, separating it all into nine shiny little tokens. One simply had to present the medallion to a Creamy Mist mercantilist, and the shopkeeper would take the leg as a sign of credit. The business owner would then have to travel to an treasury exchange, provide a receipt, and then they would be paid for the purchase. When the legs were all gone, law required the holder to immediately return it to the nearest treasury. Failure to do so resulted in a fine of the resulting expenses, plus a 30% interest rate.
It was normally reserved for nobility, and the king's agents. To Ever, the fact that Maxwell was hold one, meant that this man was doing business for the king.
"…And perhaps I can also rent a room for say… five days?" Maxwell asked, carefully looking around the room.
"Three," Ever negotiated. She couldn't refuse the token, but that didn't mean she couldn't haggle additional charges. "And whatever business you have, you keep away from my hotel."
"I can't promise to bring no danger coming to your door, but I can agree to three days," Maxwell nodded.
Ever huffed, clearly not impressed, but snapped of a piece of the medallion, "Come to the desk when you're done eating. I'll have your room key ready by then." Ever then turned around, shouldering her weapon as she went back to the bar.
When Maxwell turned around, Saga and Schneider looked at him as if he had just grown another head.
"You have a Spider's Parlour!? That certainly explains some things…" Schneider grumbled to himself.
"Why are you covering my tab…?" Saga looked at the mage suspiciously. His face was still flushed from the amount of alcohol in his system, but he was still cognizant.
"I would like to hire you," Maxwell simply told the swordsman.
"What!?" Saga's neck straightened at the absurdity of the statement.
"Actually, I would like to hire both of you, if you would listen," said Maxwell, also looking at Schneider.
"Ooh, now things are getting interesting," Schneider grinned.
…So, Maxwell told them everything. How Bartholomew Kuma had separated the crew. ("YOUR CAPTAIN DID WHAT!?") How Maxwell prematurely foiled an assassination on King Cello. ("Tough luck on that.") And how Cello gave Maxwell an ultimatum. Either find the Children of Nightmare or be handed over to the marines.
"Well, at least the king left you somewhat prepared…" said Saga, referring to the token. They were all sitting around the table while Maxwell explained himself.
The mage nodded, "Yeah, but I am not going to get any other support from the king. That Dreak fellow seems dead set on arresting any pirate that steps out of line. So that is why, I want to hire you two."
Maxwell looked between them, "You, Schneider, are an experienced pirate captain, and have explored this archipelago enough times to be familiar with it. I'm in need a guide, and so far, you might be the only person amenable to that."
"Hm…" Schneider's arms were crossed. He was idly tapping his bicep while his face scrunched up in thought.
"And you, Saga, seem like a capable swordsman, if that blade is any indication." Cursed swords don't allow for weak welders. Maxwell remembered Zoro talking about Yubashiri, when Zoro was looking for another blade. How he tested his luck against the katana's bloodlust and won. Unlikely, though it may have been, Yubashiri accepted Zoro as it's wielder. Every other warrior before that just met a grizzly fate.
"If I cover your debt to the tavern here, I would ask you become my bodyguard while we explore the archipelago." If Saga was anything like Zoro, then he would be good muscle to keep around. Besides, "Besides, I haven't gotten use to fighting like this quite yet…" Maxwell glanced at his missing hand.
Saga leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes, as he considered it.
"…I know how it feels to be crippled," Saga finally spoke. "In fact, my right arm didn't work for a while. No doctor was willing to operating on it. My torn ligaments were irreversibly contracted, so they won't even stretch enough to reattach them. A permanently gimp." Maxwell immediately looks at Saga's right arm. It seemed to be a working shoulder.
"You think to yourself, 'How can I possibly recover from this?'" Saga continues, "And the truth is, you don't. All you can do is try and overcome it… Then it all comes crushing down!" Somehow, Maxwell didn't think he was talking about his shoulder anymore. There was a frill in his voices, possibly still affected by the alcohol.
Realizing he was looking up at the ceiling, Saga righted himself and cleared his throat. "Do you think you can handle that?"
Maxwell looked back at his arm…
…then smirked, "My captain wouldn't accept any less."
Luffy wanted strong nakama. He didn't care what you did, or where you came from, just so long as you were strong, good, and had a dream. His strength was your strength. His dream was your dream. And the whole crew recuperated that sentiment. Luffy would try to be the strongest there was so that you could be even stronger!
…Which would also explain why Luffy had been so horrified when Maxwell lost his hand. "I was a fool," Maxwell thought to himself. He should have just listened to Luffy and ran when they had been confronted with the second Pacifista and Sentomaru. And his zeal had cost him his limb…
There was no point in wallowing in guilt though. Maxwell vowed he would trust his captain from now on, and he would find a way to overcome this weakness. They were all going to unite on the Thousand Sunny, and that was a fact!
Schneider laughed, "Well, you certainly have the conviction to be a pirate. I would paid good money to have a loyal crewmate like yourself! …Eh, why not? I'm in." Buzz reared up so his head was above the table. Though it barely reached the edge, Buzz barked in agreement.
…Saga however sighed, "Tell me everything you've gone through with Zoro, and you've got a deal." Maxwell could tell that Saga was reluctant, but he was glad Saga was at least going to help him. "Still can't believe he went pirate…"
O O O
…In an antechamber underground, people in black robes prayed in a circle, sitting row behind row around each other. They numbered in about two hundred people, kneeling in a smooth, plastered ruin, though rusted with age.
The cultists chanted as their high priest hovered in the centre, arms out stretched as if to welcome something. Like his followers, he wore a veiled mask so it wouldn't show his face. But unlike the cultists, his robes were more ornate. They had been hemmed with gold, seams tailored smoothly to perfection. On his shoulders was mantle for cloth pauldrons, and his sash was an obi, with a banner hanging between his legs. A red dragon, rising like a serpent.
His eyes glowed behind the mask, the same sickly green light as the candles. The light seemed to waft from the priest's eyes, and even more came from his mouth! Behind the mask, it made it appear as some spectral scream.
Then the lights disappeared, and the cultists stopped chanting. The high priest fell into a crouch, practiced from many times in their communion.
He then rose, and gestured his followers to rise. "Brothers. Sisters. I have communed with our Great Patron, and he has assured us, his arrival is close at hand! Continue our great work! Build the apparatus around the mirror! And soon, he shall deliver us onto Paradise!"
His followers watched with wrapt attention, "No more nobles to lord over us, beyond reproach!"
"No more nightmares to haunt our dreams!" Helsing walked into the room, down the stairs. She leaned against the wall as she listened to the head cultist preach.
"Beyond this world, is a place where we can all be at rest and live out our days in comfort!" The Children of Nightmare didn't clap their hands in applause. Instead, they stamped their feat, not a peep from their lips.
"PRAY FOR THE NIGHTMARE!" The high priest shouted above the cacophony.
"PREY FOR THE NIGHTMARE!" His followers resounded.
The procession then slowly filtered out. Some attendees exited up the stairs, while others went towards the crates at the corner of the room. They were full of nuts, bolts, cables, gears, and copper wire. Some had holes for hinges, while other pieces were stock rebar. It was a whole menagerie of machine pieces.
The high priest himself, walked up to the mirror he mentioned and looked at it. It was a marvellous thing, the design unmentioned in any annal he had ever read. The glass didn't even require any polishing! It was a tall rectangular looking glass, gilded in gold, and tapering at the top to an elegant point. There were no imperfections, or soldering, yet it could become something so much more!
Their first task had been to collect all the shards. Some they had to steal. Looters and merchants who explored these ruins before them had taken fragments and repurposed them for their own mirrors. Their sacrifices were not in vain though, their blood helped reforge the mirror after all. The shards had slowly meld together, like pieces of a puzzle, until it created this seamless sheen.
However, they still had to activate the mirror. They already tried more blood magic. It didn't work, but it was very fun to experiment. When complete, the mirror should glow like moonlight, it's surface rippling like water. But for now, all they had was a pane of fancy glass.
"Hey sacerdote," the priest's reverence was cut short by Helsing who spoke up behind him, "We have a problem."
"Ah… Helsing," the cult leader turned to address the pirate. "How did the assassination go?"
"It failed," Helsing snarled. "The whole thing was a bust, because one of your brainwashed lunatics couldn't stick to the plan!"
"Mm… I see," Sliep looked back at the mirror and contemplated. "And what happened? Did you take care of any loose ends?"
Helsing huffed in amusement, "No loose ends. I made sure of it."
The cult leader paused at her expression, "…I see you took the preemptive approach."
Helsing shrugged, "Your boys were more riled up then normal. They wouldn't back down even when the guards had them cornered. It seemed better just to cut our loses."
"And what got them so 'riled up,' as you say?" Sliep asked. He always made sure his followers were loyal to the cause. The… "princess," was simply an accessory.
"Strangest thing," Helsing smiled. "A pirate fell out of the sky, destroying the fountain in the middle of the square. It wasn't just any pirate though. It was that Magister, Maxwell Trevelyan, from the Straw-Hat crew! Poor bastard was missing a hand and looked like a deer in lamplights!" The she-pirate chuckled, "Caused a bit of stir, but it didn't seem like a reason to change the plan… One of your subordinates though, did!" She stomped on the ground, "Idiot broke out of the crowd wearing your cult's full dumbass attire and tried to—Grk!"
Sliep had heard enough. He had quickly turned around and held Helsing by throat, "I tolerate your tongue because of your usefulness on this archipelago. That does not mean you have free reign around here to mock our beliefs."
He brought the woman's face closer, "Do you want to know why my men broke ranks?" Helsing's hebi-weapon snapped out of her robes to bite Sliep, but the priest cast a spell to freeze the serpent in place. "Because I ordered them too."
"Rgh—What—!?" Helsing's eyes widened as she fought for breath.
"Oh don't get me confused." The priest shook his head, "I didn't plan to foil your little power grab today. In fact, I rather hoped your mission would succeed. However… the appearance of Maxwell Trevelyan takes priority. Something that supersedes our plans, just by him existing…!"
"Simply put, Hellsing: I. WANT. HIM. DEAD!"
Sliep watched as her face slowly became blue, "I never expected us to encounter him so soon…! But now," Sliep drops the pirate, letting Helsing cough and sputter to gain breath, "Trevelyan's on Maruchi Island… In the Creamy Mist Archipelago! This is perfect!"
"First, I'll bring my god into this world. Second, I will rule the seas as he burns a new era into the annals of history! And then… finally… I can finally kill that grief stricken, beard wearing, UNWORTHY SEA RAT WITH MY OWN TWO HANDS! I WILL DROWN THAT WASHED UP INGRATE IN THE DEEPEST PITS OF THE ABYSS WHERE HE BELONGS! HIM, AND THAT RUBBER BRAINED IDIOT HE FOLLOWS TOO!"
Sliep looked at his hands, as if imagining the blood. "And all of this, is just in reach…!" And his image seems to warp in the mirror.
"Heh... Hehehe. HEHEHE! HEHEHEH! WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
O O O
Later that night. Maxwell, Schneider, Saga, and Buzz all settled in the room Ever had given Max. Room 205.
Buzz and Schneider had already taken one bed and laid snoring on the mattress. Schneider laid spread eagle while Buzz curled up against his leg. This was probably going to be one of their best night's sleep they've had in a while.
Maxwell sat on the other bed, turning through Salem's grimoire. His knowledge was Maxwell's knowledge, and so he was going through all the spell formulas they've had previous experience with. Salem, through his focus, was capable of relaying pieces of information from his mind. Being a bound to his psyche, Salem had greater access to Maxwell's subconscious. Therefore he could find information more readily then his own mind can, point out knowledge Maxwell may or may not have forgotten.
He wanted to plan out a new repertoire for his combat skills. He did not want to resort to fighting like a sitting duck. Enough mages did it, and it was useless out here. Maxwell had gotten use to bo-staff fighting, but that was no longer feasible. Not with his staff missing, along his left arm…
He had to find a different way to complement his spellcasting. Glyphs will only do so much…
Maxwell paused at a description of the Knight-Enchanter, "'Will made manifest…'"
He thought on that quote for a moment. It wasn't a passage written from any book... It seemed more like a line of dialogue Salem recorded. A resource from his viewings in the Fade with Mineive and Mordred?
Maxwell looked at his left arm. Could he conjure a Spirit Blade, without a grasping motion? He could imagine a bar of solid light extending from his arm like some sort of gauntlet blade. It wouldn't have as much range of motion, but if you compare a blade with a fist—A punch could impact, while a blade could puncture…
It would certainly look cool, if he could pull it off.
Maxwell closed the book and set it aside, concluding his reading for tonight. He looked around the room they had been given. It was a sparse space, with the two beds, a wash bowl, and a lavatory. There wasn't any wallpaper hung up, so you could see the wooden bracing and frame in the cement walls. There was only one window, and that was beside the door that lead out onto the landing.
This also reminded Maxwell that Saga was also inside the room. He sat in the corner, up against a wall. His sword was tucked within his arm and raised knee. The hilt leaning against Saga's shoulder. It very much reminded Maxwell very much of Zoro in that instance... And Saga had that same resting-bitch face like Zoro's. Which, told Maxwell that Saga wasn't actually asleep.
"…How did you know Zoro?" Maxwell finally decided to ask. He wanted to get the question out of the way, before they began anything tomorrow.
Saga opened one eye to look at the mage before closing it again.
"…We grew up together," Saga replied. "Lived in the same town. Trained at the same dojo..."
Maxwell tilted his head, "Were you two close?"
Saga opened his eyes again. But instead of looking up at Maxwell he just looked at the floor. "…In a way… Zoro always had a drive to become the strongest. If he couldn't do it one way, he'd always try another another solution to overcome the problem. Sort'a like how he came up with his Three-Sword style to try and beat Kuina. I always admired that drive…"
A small smirk graced his lips as he though back. "I became his preferred sparing partner at the dojo, after Kuina died. I wanted to become a Sword of Justice, while Zoro wanted to be the Strongest Swordsman in the World! So we developed a rivalry and mutual respect. We vowed to each other that we would accomplish those goals, and went our separate ways when we finally became of age."
Saga's look became melancholy as he thought of old times. Preforming katas in the yard, sparing in from of the cherry tree… "What's he like as a crewmate?"
Maxwell looked up, thinking about it for a moment.
"…He likes to isolate himself, trying to be a lone wolf. Not much interests him beyond training, napping, and a drink in his hands… Hah, but he's a right riot meal times! Always butting heads with our chef, Sanji! But, he listens, and actually considers the consequences of our actions… Maker like that's always been a great help…" Maxwell half whispered that sentence to himself. Zoro was very much like a voice of reason on the crew. He held them up to a standard, even when it wasn't convenient.
"And he's loyal," Maxwell said in a firmer tone. "Even though he doesn't have to be. He sees the path before him, and does not shy from it." That's probably why he decided to make the deal with Kuma. His conviction was always what made him strong.
Saga nodded slowly, "Yeah, that sounds like Zoro… Can't navigate worth a damn though."
The mage laughed, "I know! Right?" He thought about all the times Zoro had taken a wrong turn while they were trying to get somewhere! It was ridiculous! But that's also what made him endearing.
Maxwell's laughter died off quickly though. Saga hadn't laughed with him, which left Maxwell in some concern.
"Hey. Why do you need Zoro's help?"
"…A promise," Saga replied. "My life is at an end… I thought, perhaps, I might see him one last time before I leave this world."