The ball was in three days, and Karl was not ready.
He’d met up with allies and acquaintances that would be attending said ball and there had been no underlying tension, they were just as ignorant as he was. Though he had learnt that the Marines were acting up more than usual. They’d even closed down the port at night. It was a clue, and he did not like what it told him, at all. If a World Noble was coming, he did not want to be on this island. He did not want his wife and daughter to be on the island with him either.
So, before he made a mistake by running away and thus snubbing the First Prince due to a faulty assumption. He needed to be sure, which was why he and a group of guards were currently on their way to meet up with the First Prince’s representative.
In order to reach the restaurant in which they were going to have their talk, Karl had needed to disguise himself with a horrible and incredibly long fake beard that all he wanted to do right now was scratch. To further spoil his mood, the streets were packed and his guards couldn’t clear the way as they too were disguised, not as heavily as him, but they were out of their uniforms and had been following him at a distance since they’d left The Gilded Compass.
He knew the disguise was a necessity, and hopefully it was enough. That spider they’d killed had ramped up his paranoia. There was probably a price on his head now, a bounty. He shook his head as he squeezed around a large family that had stopped to greet someone. This was the world of One Piece, he was not safe especially now that he’d semi-publicly spent two billion Berries. What a fool he’d been.
There it was, The Swan’s Grace, their destination. A high-end restaurant frequented by merchants and lesser nobles alike. The representative had insisted on this particular restaurant being their meeting spot, as it was known for being discreet.
The restaurant was enclosed by a tall wall sculpted with golden swans, their wings outstretched in flight. These miniature sculptures extended outwards from the wall, their golden surfaces in stark contrast to the grey stone. The wall blocked the view of what the building actually looked like. Only the entrance, flanked by two statues that had been carved to represent another pair of swans, allowed one to see what lay beyond. The two swan statues faced each other, their necks arching gracefully and their beaks touching to form the entrance with the shape of a heart.
Karl and his guards stepped off the main street and between the two statues, emerging into a large garden. The cobblestoned path they were on cut through said garden until it reached a small lake with an island housing a mansion at its centre. White swans swam around floating pavilions where nobles, merchants, and all kinds of high-end clientele sat around tables where they drank, ate and conversed. Every now and then, a waiter would leave the mansion on a small boat, pushing towards one of the pavilions using a long stick, they would then climb onto the pavilion where they took the orders and served the food and drinks.
Karl joined the short line that stretched just before a small post in front of the lake, his guards joining the line right behind him.
“Quite the place, is it not?” The short man Karl was standing behind turned to look at him and stared at him with piercing blue eyes, framed by a weathered face that had been marked by the passage of time. The old man waited for a response, his calloused hand combing through a thick white beard that cascaded down to his chest.
Karl stared at the beard, a beard that was well-cared for. Where had his luck gone? Had he spent it all at the Auction? What was the likelihood that he would stand in line behind a man that had the highest chance in realising that he was wearing a disguise? That beard of his was the most healthy, silky sheen of white that he had seen in either of his lives. It was neatly trimmed, with no stray hairs or uneven lengths disrupting its symmetry. It even—
“Well? Young man?”
Karl gulped, frantically reaching for something to say. “Yes, it is quite the place…” and that was the understatement of the century. This place wasn’t considered top-of-the-line in the South Blue, which Karl found unbelievable. What would a restaurant that was actually considered top-of-the-line be like?
Karl had never eaten on a pavilion floating in crystal clear waters, surrounded by swans, with a group of musicians playing calm, soothing music on a large, floating stage. The music drowning out the sounds of conversation, keeping them private…Just as the prince’s representative had wanted.
“It is quite the place!” The old man leaned closer, “ Though, it can’t compare to The Sea Haven,” he whispered.
The line moved along and the old man stepped back, “But the food, the ambiance! You’ll enjoy it, I assure you.”
They moved along once more, they were close to the post where they would be directed to their pavilion. Just a family and a couple ahead of them, but they couldn’t get there fast enough.
“I noticed you were staring at my beard, do you need any advice for your own?”
The dreaded question. The old man was now staring intently at his beard, Karl needed to quickly divert his attention.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Karl rushed to say, anything to keep those piercing blue eyes from staring too closely.
“I was wondering…” Karl trailed off, he didn’t know what to ask! He’d never had a beard as long as the one he was sporting now, in either of his lives. What should he ask? What could he ask? Maybe he should ask something about the man’s beard? Yes! He needed to redirect the man’s attention, and hopefully he liked talking about his beard.
“How do you keep your beard so silky smooth?” He asked the first thing that came to mind.
“Ho? You noticed?” The old man absentmindedly ran his fingers through his beard, “I use a—”
The old man, most likely a noble judging by the golden crest on his ring, had barely begun his rambling monologue when Karl slipped into his well-practiced routine. He nodded at intervals, feigning interest with the occasional hum or murmur of agreement. It was a finely honed art, to listen with one ear, yet still follow along the gist of what someone was saying.
The couple before the old man were now at the post, and the line moved along. He only had to survive for a few more moments and then he would be free. His clean-shaven face was in the news everywhere and if the old man saw through his disguise, the fact that he was at this restaurant would spread like wildfire. Something he decidedly did not want, he would prefer to not have to dodge assassinations left and right.
“Sir?” The attendant at the post interrupted the old man's impassioned speech.
The old man looked back at the post as the couple were led away. He smiled at Karl and held out his hand.
“Well, it was nice speaking to you…?”
“Victor,” Karl grasped the old man's hand, “Victor Ellington.”
“Wilfred Fitzroy,” the old man introduced himself, only to pause. “Are you by any chance related to Jane Brooks, wife of that famous Karl Brooks?”
Karl froze, the fact the man knew this much about him was worrying. He should have picked a different surname! He hadn’t expected him to be so well-informed as to even know his wife’s previous family name! What should he say?
“Yes, Jane is a cousin of mine.”
Wilfred firmly squeezed his hand and let go. "Well, what a coincidence! I–”
“Sir?” The attendant at the post cleared his throat. Wilfred paused for a moment and grimaced.
“I must be going now, but hopefully we can see each other at the ball?”
This man was going to the ball? Well, there goes the lie.
“Yes, for sure. I will be there, it was a pleasure meeting you.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” with that, Wilfred turned and walked up to the post.
Karl exhaled, feeling the air rush from his lungs like a deflating balloon. The interaction had been brief, but it had felt like it had dragged on for hours. He glanced around, the guard standing behind him, Grayson—with his prominent ginger beard, nodded imperceptibly. A small smile gracing his grizzled visage, the man was probably just as happy as he was that he had not blown his cover.
Wilfred was finally led away by one of the staff and it was finally his turn.
He walked up to the post, his guards following behind him, and waited patiently as the attendant finished jotting something down and then smiled up at him. The attendant, a gentleman dressed impeccably in the restaurant’s signature white and gold uniform, gave him a polite but appraising look. “Good evening, sir. Welcome to The Swan’s Grace, may I have your name?”
“K–” he stopped himself, “Victor Ellington.”
The attendant raised an eyebrow but checked for his name, nodding after a moment. “Mr Ellington, will the gentlemen behind you be joining?” The attendant glanced at his guards standing a few steps behind him.
Karl nodded and the attendant stood up and gestured to a waitress who had been patiently standing to the side. “Well then, please follow my colleague, she will lead you to your pavilion.”
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“Mr Ellington,” the waitress bobbed her head in a small curtsy. “Please follow me.”
The group followed the waitress to the lake’s edge, where three sleek, ivory-hued gondolas glistened under the midday sun, their wide frames bobbing gently against the dock.
Each gondola was large enough to carry their entire group, with room to spare. They approached the first gondola in line, Karl noting how the wood it was made of had been polished to a mirror-like finish, and how its gracefully arched prow, carved into the shape of a swan’s head, seemed almost lifelike, with delicate feather patterns etched along the sides of the prow.
Lanterns, crafted from clear crystal and brass, hung from slender posts at each corner of the boat’s canopy. In the sunlight, the crystal facets caught the light, scattering rainbow prisms across the rippling water. The gauzy white curtains that framed the gondola’s canopy fluttered gently in the breeze, casting rippling shadows on the gold-threaded silk cushions that lined the floor of the craft.
On one of these cushions a large man sat cross-legged. His eyes closed such that he looked as if he were meditating. As their group reached the man’s gondola, it was clear to Karl that he was not ordinary, he was huge. His shoulders were as broad as an anvil, and his frame towered over everyone present by at least three heads. For a moment, his guards tensed, their hands briefly brushing their hidden weapons. Only relaxing moments later as Karl gave the slightest shake of his head.
“Step carefully, sir,” the waitress gestured for Karl to board.
Karl nodded and adjusted his cloak as he stepped into the gondola, his guards stepping in just behind him as the large man’s eyes snapped open and he nodded towards them. The gondola swayed slightly as he stood up and walked back to the furthest edge where he retrieved a long pole which he dipped into the waters. The waitress was the last to step onto the boat and the moment she did, the giant man gave a soft grunt and pushed off the dock with the pole, the gondola turning to face the lake such that the giant was situated at the stern of the boat, the man pushed once more and they glided forward, the boat cutting through the calm waters and dipping slightly every time he pushed the pole, adjusting their course around other smaller gondolas and pavilions scattered across the lake, their gilded rooftops glinting in the sunlight.
Karl and half of his guards had settled onto the plush cushions, the other half having stayed standing, as they all watched the gondola slowly weave its way around any obstructions, gradually approaching their pavilion, most likely one of the larger ones that floated beyond the cluster of small and mid-sized pavilions at the lakes centre. The closer they got to said cluster, the louder the music that had been playing in the background got. Reaching its peak as their gondola weaved around an especially dense collection of small pavilions that were set around a large floating stage, where a chamber orchestra played the calm, soothing music.
Jane would love this place, the music, the view, the very atmosphere. It was incredibly romantic, he could just picture her staring over the surface of the lake as it glittered under the midday sun, sipping her glass as they listened to the music. Yes, it would be a way to make it up to her. To soothe their relationship. She wasn’t as angry with him as she had been on the first day, but some time together like this would hopefully help his case.
A bevy of white swans paddled up besides them as they finally broke away from the cluster of pavilions gathered around the stage. The swans kept pace beside them for a few moments, the lead swan staring at him with dark eyes, but as they neared the larger pavilions they broke away.
“Your pavilion is just ahead sir,” the waitress gestured at one of the larger pavilions, its red lacquered columns and ornate carvings casting reflections in the water. Two figures sat on one side of the round table at the pavilions centre, watching them approach with their guards standing at attention on the pavilions edge.
The giant behind them gave another push of the pole, the boat dipping slightly as it decelerated on their approach to their destination.
Why are there two? Was he not meant to only meet up with the prince’s representative? His guards seemed to realise the same thing as they tensed.
Karl squinted his eyes, trying to make out their faces against the glare of the sun. One of them he recognized, his bald head gleaming as it caught the light like a mirror, his thick grey moustache that curled at the ends unmistakingly marking him as the representative.
But the other man sitting beside him Karl did not recognise, especially with his decidedly foreign dress. A large turban concealed his hair and a pair of dark sunglasses hid his eyes, he wore a long robe that cascaded down in rich folds of silk, and though it lacked any embroidery it carried an understated elegance that was mirrored by the man's impeccable posture. He sipped on his cup of tea, watching them approach with an unreadable expression.
Who was he? And why did the representative bring him?
The boat was maneuvered into the pavilion dock until it bumped softly against the polished wooden planks. The scent of jasmine and sandalwood drifted down from the strong tea on the elevated platform above them, where the two men sat and watched them in silence.
Karl was the first to step off and took a deep breath, noting how the scent from the tea mingled with the fresh smell of the lake. The breath, and maybe even the smell itself worked to calm his nerves as he climbed up the set of stairs, his guards moving with practiced ease behind him and setting up positions beside the other guards spread around the edges of the pavilion.
He tugged at the itchy damnable beard as he reached the top of the stairs, resisting the urge to scratch the irritated skin beneath the disguise.
“Mr Elington!” The representative stood up as Karl reached their position. “We finally meet in person!”
They clasped hands. The representatives grip firm but not overly aggressive, before the representative —Langley, was his name if he remembered correctly— gestured toward the seat opposite.
“Please do take a seat, before we begin the introductions.”
Karl took the offered seat as Langley settled back down on his own chair and leaned back, twirling his moustache as the foreign man that Langley had brought nodded in his direction, still sipping his cup of steaming tea.
Karl shifted slightly, writing off the foreigners' breach in decorum as either a cultural choice, or maybe even a calculated one. He suppressed the urge to once again scratch his false beard, as the waitress made herself known by walking up to the table.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen. Welcome to The Swan’s Grace. I will be attending to you today." She gave a curtsy and then turned to Karl. “Mr. Ellington, may I offer you a refreshment while you peruse the menu?"
“Something light, please. Maybe what they are having?”
The waitress glanced at the tea set and smiled. “A fine choice, the Saville Blanc, shall I bring you a pot sir?”
“If you would be so kind, a small one, please.”
The waitress dipped into a curtsy once more. “Of course, sir. I shall return shortly.” With that, she turned and disappeared down the stairs.
The moment she left, the foreigner set down his cup and made a gesture to the guards standing around the pavilion. They were quick to act, as they drew the silk curtains closed. The silk, thin enough to allow golden light to filter through, reflected off the foreigner's pearly white teeth as he smiled at Karl.
“I trust you won’t object? A little shade often makes for a more comfortable conversation.” His gaze, obscured behind his dark sunglasses, flickered briefly towards Karl’s fake beard. “Though I trust, Mr Brooks, that you find your disguise just as discomforting as I do mine."
Karl froze, as the foreigner reached up to his turban and unwound the fine silk cloth, the first unravelled coil revealing a shock of vivid red hair that poked out. Red hair. Karl gulped, realisation creeping in like a shadow at the edge of his mind.
The final coils of the turban fell away, the man’s fiery red hair catching the golden light. Hair just like that of House Aurelian, the patrons of his family, and a House famously known for their distinctive bright crimson hair. Hair exactly like–
The man looked at him as he then removed his sunglasses, exposing piercing hazel eyes, eyes flecked with gold. Like the eyes of…
The Prince.
Karl sprang from his seat and hastily sank to one knee. “Your Royal Highness.”
“Please be seated,” the prince gestured to Karls seat. “There is much to be said, so let us not waste time with such formalities.”
Langley cleared his throat, “Before we begin, My Prince, allow me to perform the introductions.”
The prince nodded, and Langley continued. “On this occasion, Mr Brooks, I am not here acting as a delegate of the crown, but rather I am here to introduce His Royal Highness, Prince Caius Aurelian Briss, heir to the throne.”
Langley turned to the prince and gestured at Karl with a seated bow. Karl had no idea how he made that look so distinguished, but he did.
“My Prince, as you well know, may I present Karl Brooks, second son of Johann Brooks, current patriarch of House Brooks. He is known for his genius inventions and mercantile mind, as well as for the many Berries he has amassed.”
“Yes, yes, thank you Langley.” The prince turned to Karl and raised an eyebrow. “So, Mr Brooks, why did you call for this meeting? Perchance due to the upcoming ball?”
Karl nodded, but before he could say anything, Caius continued. “Forgive me, I suspect I know what you are here for. Feel free to correct me if I am wrong.”
The prince leaned forward, piercing hazel eyes locking with his own. “You wanted to ask about the World Noble attending the ball did you not?”
So he was right. A World Noble was attending. Now there was no way he was going to that ball. He refused to be anywhere close to a World Noble, especially with his loved ones. After this meeting he’d be heading straight back to the Gilded Compass, he’d collect his family and subordinates and then they were getting out of here. The faster the better.
“Let me rephrase that, he is not merely attending, the ball is for him.” The prince was still staring at Karl as he leaned back in his chair, sipped his cup of tea, and then gently set it down.
“He asked for the most interesting people in our kingdom to be presented to him on his visit, and you, genius inventor and merchant extraordinaire. You were at the top of the list.”
Karl was beginning to have an inkling on where this was going. Why would the Prince decide to meet him in person? To inform him in person?
“The King, me, the entire Briss Kingdom.” The prince continued, irrespective of Karl's clear unease. “We are counting on you. Keep him interested, keep him entertained.”
Karl could hear the unspoken or else behind those words. He heard it loud and clear. Now he knew why the prince came to see him in person.
It was a threat.
The certainty that he wouldn’t be able to leave—even if he wanted to—settled in his stomach like a stone, heavy and unmoving.
He wouldn’t be able to leave. But maybe. Maybe Elisa and Jane could.
Wait, no. That wouldn’t work. If he did that, he’d have to split his forces. They’d have less security on the way back, and there’d be less security for him here. If the next assassination attempt succeeded because of that… He did not want to leave his daughter fatherless and his wife a widow.
No, before he made any hasty decisions, he’d talk it over with his wife.
But to do that, he needed more information, enough to make a plan, and as Tsun Tzu once said: ‘If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.’
“Your Highness, may I ask—who is the World Noble, the Celestial Dragon(天竜人), that is coming? What is his name?"
“Saint Augustin Figarland. He deems himself an adventurer, and we have been chosen to be part of his adventure. Our job is to make sure he enjoys his stay. We must make sure of it.”
