One Piece: Lost in the Tutorial #82

I was in my study, a grand room filled with bookshelves and the scent of old parchment. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the polished wooden desk where I sat. I was reviewing some paperwork that Aldric, my ever-efficient advisor, had already tended to.

The monotony of administrative tasks was a far cry from the hustle and bustle I'd grown used to, but it was necessary work if I was to solidify my rule and ensure the prosperity of Lvneel.

A knock at the door broke my concentration. "Enter," I called, not looking up immediately. I heard the door open and the familiar, measured footsteps of Vice Admiral Tsuru. Her presence was a weight in the room, her expression as unreadable as ever.

I glanced up and smiled. "Vice Admiral Tsuru, to what do I owe the pleasure? Please, take a seat."

She shook her head. "I’m fine standing."

I raised an eyebrow. It had been three days since Tsuru and her subordinate arrived. While she mostly kept to herself, choosing to be an observer, she never seemed as confrontational as she was now. Her sudden shift in demeanor was intriguing.

"Suit yourself," I said, leaning back in my chair. "So... what can I do for you?"

"I want to discuss terms for the release of X Drake," she said, her voice steady but edged with an unmistakable note of urgency.

I feigned ignorance, letting a smile tug at my lips. "X Drake? You mean the former marine who turned pirate? Why would you go out of your way to negotiate a traitor’s release?"

Tsuru's frown deepened. "I don't have the time or patience for games, Blake."

I chuckled, appreciating her directness. "Fair enough. Let’s skip the pleasantries then. I don’t have any terms per se..." I said, trailing off at the end of my sentence. "I’ll gladly let Drake go once I’m acknowledged as a Warlord of the Sea officially, granted the Marines don’t try to sabotage me again until then."

Tsuru's eyes narrowed, and she leaned forward slightly, her gaze piercing. "Do you understand what you’re saying, Blake? You’re picking a fight with the Marines."

I smiled, though the humor didn't quite reach my eyes. "I never intended to pick a fight, Vice Admiral. But I find myself in a peculiar situation where I have to defend myself." I tapped my finger on the desk rhythmically, a small, deliberate sound that filled the room. "The Marines picked a fight with me first."

Tsuru's expression remained calm, but her eyes held a steely resolve. "Even still, the Marines cannot succumb to the will of a pirate. It has never happened before and never will. To do so now would create a dangerous precedent that might cause the downfall of the entire organization."

I paused, contemplating her words. The tapping of my finger on the table grew louder and quicker, a sign of my inner conflict. Her argument was not without merit, and the weight of her position added gravitas to her statements.

Seeing my hesitation, Tsuru continued, her voice unwavering. "The honor of the Marines cannot be bargained or compromised. Drake must be released, one way or another."

I sensed the threat hidden in her tone and couldn’t help but chuckle, though it was a bitter sound. "Honor? There's no such thing as the honor of the Marines," I said, leaning back in my chair.

"A good number of the Marines are either in it to line their pockets or simply to act on their twisted, sadistic desires by enforcing the World Government's genocidal justice."

Tsuru's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—disappointment, perhaps. "For each one who is corrupt, there are two more honorable marines resolved to fulfill their duties even at the cost of their lives..." she stated resolutely.

"They are the only thing standing between pirates and civilians. They are keeping the peace, and that's more than anyone else can claim."

I sighed, feeling the weight of her words. "Perhaps you're right, Vice Admiral. But that only means that a third of your organization is corrupt. As far as I'm concerned, the honor of the Marines means nothing when it comes to the well-being of my people... I can't trust you without ensurances..."

Tsuru's eyes softened ever so slightly, a rare crack in her stern facade. "Trust is a luxury we can't afford in this line of work, Blake Thorne. We deal in actions and consequences, not ideals."

I smiled, a realization dawning on me. "I understand now, Tsuru. You came here to either get a compromise or pick a fight, and you’re not leaving without one." I chuckled, the sound echoing softly in the room. "Very well, I'll give you the smallest of compromises that will allow the Marines to preserve their so-called honor."

Tsuru's expression remained unchanged, her calm demeanor unbroken. She didn’t bother to confirm or deny my words, simply standing there with that same stoic look.

I shook my head, a wry smile playing on my lips. "I’ll release Drake from confinement. However, I’ll keep his heart. Until I am officially appointed as a Warlord, he won’t be stepping one foot outside this island." I leaned back in my chair, my smile growing wider. "You can go back and tell your buddies at Marine HQ that you preserved their precious honor."

As if ending the conversation, I turned away from Tsuru and shifted my attention to the paperwork strewn across my desk. "I'd rather be fighting a horde of Sea Kings than dealing with this," I muttered, half to myself.

Tsuru sighed, a soft sound that barely registered above the shuffle of papers. She turned on her heel and headed toward the exit, her steps measured and deliberate.

I watched her go, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts. The Vice Admiral was a formidable woman, not easily swayed by threats or bluster. But I had made my position clear. Drake would remain a prisoner, his heart a guarantee of my security and leverage, until my status as a Warlord was cemented.

As the door closed behind Tsuru, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The tension in the room dissipated, leaving behind the familiar silence of my study. I glanced down at the papers before me, reports and requests that demanded my attention.

The burdens of leadership, I mused, were far more tedious than the thrill of battle.

...

Kiera sat on the cold stone floor of her cell beneath the Lvneel royal castle, her wrists still chafed from the seastone cuffs that restrained her abilities. Months had passed since her capture, but each day felt like a year.

The dungeon, though well-kept, was a cruel prison, and the isolation gnawed at her spirit. She was well-fed and taken care of, yet the solitude and silence felt like a slow torture. Being ignored and left to her own devices, as if to let her ponder her actions, seemed more merciless than a swift execution.

She lost herself in the routine sounds of the dungeon—the drip of water, the occasional scurrying of rats, the distant clink of chains. But today, something broke the monotony. The sound of approaching footsteps aroused her from her thoughts. She raised her head, her eyes narrowing as she saw Blake approaching her cell.

He halted before the bars and smiled at her, a casual, almost friendly smile. "It's been a while."

Kiera scoffed, her voice laced with bitterness. "And here I thought you'd let me rot here for the rest of my life."

Blake shrugged, his expression unbothered. "I have a willful crew to lead and a kingdom to run. I’ve been busy."

Kiera glared at him, her silence speaking volumes. Blake sighed, the sound echoing softly in the cold dungeon. "Your father was a piece of shit," he began, his tone matter-of-fact. "But I did learn a thing or two from him. I owe him a debt."

Kiera's eyes flashed with anger. "Don't you dare talk about my father."

Blake raised an eyebrow, unperturbed by her outburst. "I’m not here to insult him, Kiera. I’m here to talk about you."

She remained silent, her gaze fixed on him with a mixture of defiance and curiosity. Blake continued, his voice steady. "I'd never leave you to rot for the rest of your life, but you went after my crew. I can’t let that slide."

Kiera clenched her fists, the seastone cuffs digging into her skin. "So, what now? Are you here to deliver some grand punishment?"

Blake stood before the cell, his presence commanding and yet oddly relaxed. He studied Kiera for a moment, his eyes tracing the lines of fatigue and defiance etched into her face. "You’ve had enough punishment," he said finally, his voice calm but firm. "And more than enough time to think about your actions... no I'm here to set you free..."

Kiera’s glare intensified, her eyes burning with resentment. "I did have a lot of time to think about my actions," she spat. "And I don't regret them one bit."

Blake smiled, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "One doesn’t usually regret their vengeful acts though storybooks would tell you otherwise..." he replied, his tone almost conversational. "It's to be expected."

He paused, letting his words sink in. "Still. I don’t need you to regret your actions, Kiera," he continued, his voice softening slightly. "Only to remember your time in confinement and that if you target my crew again, I won't be so... understanding."