"Dimitri, where are we? Is there an island nearby? We need a break," called out Aeridar as he descended from the crow's nest. His voice, though steady, carried a weariness that was hard to miss. He walked up to the bow, directing his question to the navigator, Dimitri, who stood by the helm.
Pulling out a damp parchment map from his coat, Dimitri gave it a glance and replied, "We drifted off-course a bit, but the general direction is still on track. We should be close to Sasardo."
"Sasardo?! That huge island in the East Blue? We ended up all the way out here?" Aeridar raised an eyebrow, surprised.
"That's right—the largest and most prosperous island in the East Blue," Dimitri nodded, rolling the map back up.
"Alright then. New heading—Sasardo!" A grin tugged at the corner of Aeridar's lips, a flicker of energy returning to his tired face.
"You got it!" Dimitri gave a firm nod. He knew full well that after last night's storm, everyone on board was drained. Several items left on deck had been swept away by the gale, and the Chris itself needed a serious round of repairs. They desperately needed a place to restock and recover.
"It's 7:21 AM. Leave one helmsman to keep us on course, and post one lookout up top. Everyone else, get some rest. Wake us when we arrive," Aeridar said after checking the waterproof silver pocket watch he always carried.
"Roger that. I'll handle it," came the voice of Gilbert Arlan, the ship's first mate, who was sprawled nearby on the deck. He knew it was his job to get things in order when the captain was this exhausted.
Arlan swiftly delegated duties—assigning the most well-rested helmsman and a crew member to the crow's nest. After Dimitri gave them the current heading, Gorbo in the galley whipped up some hot soup. Everyone drank their fill and returned to their quarters to rest.
The sky was clear, the sun shining bright. A few seabirds circled overhead, and the sea was calm—so calm it was as if the Sea God had already made peace with whatever had angered them last night. There was no sign of the apocalyptic storm they'd survived just hours before.
By 10 AM, a massive three-masted ship bearing a black-and-white wolf-head motif glided steadily across the tranquil ocean. Atop the main mast, a black flag with a white skull fluttered in the wind—swords crossed behind the skull, each hilt adorned with a golden ring.
This was a pirate ship—and not just any pirate ship, but the infamous Chris, flagship of the Chris Pirates, whose reputation had already spread throughout the East Blue.
As the Chris sailed onward, the dark speck on the horizon gradually grew larger. From a distance, it resembled a slumbering beast. But in truth, it was a colossal island—vast enough to rival a continent.
Time ticked on. From the crow's nest, the lookout finally spotted a large port city nestled on the island's edge.
The sound of the great drum reverberated through the ship—a deafening alert from the lookout above.
Inside the captain's quarters, located on the second floor of the ship's stern, Aeridar stirred in the round, cushy bed. Blinking groggily at the ceiling, he struggled to reorient himself. Beside him, Millie and Mina rubbed their eyes and sat up, their bare skin catching the morning light in a way that could make any man's blood run hot.
"Captain... are we... there yet?" Mina mumbled sleepily, her soft, sweet voice still thick with dreams.
Yaaawn. Aeridar let out a long yawn, blinking away the last of sleep. "Ahh... drum sounded... probably here already."
Millie, her face still hidden beneath long strands of hair, suddenly wrapped her arms around Aeridar, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder. "Captain... are we staying here to rest?" she asked, her voice muffled.
Without a second thought, Aeridar gently peeled her arms away, ignoring Millie's sleepy clinginess. He got up, opened the nearby wardrobe, and began putting on fresh clothes, piece by piece. "Get dressed. We'll probably stay on this island for a day or two." By now he was mostly awake, though the traces of fatigue still lingered in his eyes.
Fifteen minutes later, more and more crew members had gathered on deck. Curiosity sparked as they watched other ships sailing nearby—merchant vessels, fishing boats, passenger ships, and even other pirate ships.
"Captain, we're pirates, right? So why aren't they afraid of us?"
"Should we fire a warning shot, just to be sure?"
"You think there's some kind of rule or unspoken agreement here?"
"Wanna test some 'unspoken agreements' with me?"
"Screw you, test your sister."
The crew was clearly confused. Ships of all kinds passed them by without fear—none attacked, none fled. Some even came close to offer them goods for sale, leaving the pirates baffled.
"What's so surprising? This is Sasardo," Oliver said calmly, leaning against the railing.
"This is the territory of the Kingdom of Sasardo—one of the nations under the World Government. Six cities, millions of citizens, and over two hundred thousand troops. It's one of the largest kingdoms in the East Blue."
Dimitri smiled as he elaborated, "Not to mention, the biggest Marine base in the East Blue—the 17th Branch—is stationed here. Thousands of Marines, dozens of warships. A Vice Admiral commands the whole branch and oversees the region."
"Guess that explains why no one's causing trouble."
"Wait a sec... are we walking right into a Marine stronghold?!"
"Thousands of Marines? Dozens of warships?! That's insane!"
Some of the crew started to panic. They were pirates, after all—and now they'd just sailed straight into the lion's den.
Dimitri, ever the patient one, kept explaining. "Sasardo Island is the largest in all of East Blue. It's got forests, deserts, plains, grasslands, mountains—every kind of terrain you can imagine. It's rich in resources too: high-grade gemstones, premium lumber, iron ore, exotic spices... fourteen major exports in all. It's the most prosperous island in East Blue."
"Two of Sasardo's six cities are massive port cities. They're bustling, but also full of all kinds of people—pirates, gangsters, slavers, you name it. Thing is, these cities bring in massive tax revenue for the kingdom—and the Marines get a share of that too. So as long as you don't cause trouble—or at least not too much trouble—both the kingdom's military and the Marines tend to look the other way."
"Pfft. Typical rotten corruption," Aeridar sneered from atop the wolf-head figurehead, clearly unimpressed.
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