— Your bounty is considered the first in East Blue... incredible, — Karina said, glancing again at the newspaper clipping.
— This is just the beginning, — I replied calmly, looking at the serene sea surface, beyond which the port of Loguetown was already coming into view. — It will only grow from here.
— Either way, we won't stay long here, the Grand Line awaits us — I added, looking away from the horizon. — We have too much to do.
I turned to Karina:— Get the money ready. We need to fully equip the ship. New rooms, rigging, repairs, everything necessary. And most importantly — ship cannons. We need to prepare as thoroughly as possible for the Grand Line. Gear too — everyone needs their own.
— Well then, let's divide responsibilities, — Karina nodded. — You and Gin go look for cannons. I'll take Sabo and stock up on supplies and everything for daily life: dishes, fabric, tools, ropes, some stuff for the cabins and hold.
— Hey, but I wanted to go with the guys too! — Sabo sighed, grinning crookedly.
— Help carry everything back to the ship — and then you're free, — Karina smirked, patting him on the shoulder.
— Alright, alright, — he muttered. — Anyway, buying cannons isn't exactly a quick errand.
— Then we'll head out right after docking, — I said. — Now's the time to lower the sails and take down the flag before we're spotted.
Silhouettes of other ships and activity on the docks were already visible in Loguetown's port.
— After we've bought everything, — I said, turning to the crew, — you can go do whatever you want. Rest, explore, anything. But we meet at 16:00 — right here at the port. Don't be late.
— Aye, captain, — Sabo responded, already pulling up the anchor.
— I want to check out the forge. Maybe I'll find someone to help with a new pair of tonfa, — said Gin, adjusting his strap.
— And I'll peek into the tailor's. Need to check out a few things— maybe even grab a new fashion magazine, — Karina added with a smirk, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
— I want to visit the execution platform... — I said a bit more quietly. — The place where the Pirate King was executed.
Everyone turned. A moment of silence fell.
— Alright, — Gin said finally. — But first — cannons. Then — wherever you want, captain.
Loguetown greeted us with bustle: merchants shouting to advertise their wares, sailors darting between ships, and watchmen leisurely patrolling the streets. Everything was brimming with life and tension all at once.
— The port is well-guarded, so I hope our ship won't get stolen, — Karina said, glancing back at the pier's chaos.
Looking back at the noisy pier, Sabo lazily rubbed his hands and grinned:— I jammed the steering system, so our ship won't move without our say-so.
Karina squinted with a faint smile and replied:— I hope you'll be able to unjam it later, or we'll be stuck here forever.
— No problem, — Sabo chuckled, flexing his fingers.
I couldn't hold back, jumped down from the side, and shouted:— Let's go, Gin!
He leapt down beside me, catching up as we ran:— How much money did they give you?
— About a million, — I replied, scanning the streets.
— And I only got two hundred? That's unfair! I'm part of the crew too! — he protested, eyeing the crowd.
— Hey, do you even know where you're going? — he asked, looking around.
— We'll follow the signs, — I smirked. — Besides, you needed to drop by the forge and armory anyway.
— Well, alright, — Gin shrugged, and we headed deeper into the port in search of the right workshops.
Elsewhere Marine Base, Loguetown.
— Hey, are you seriously saying we should increase patrols? Just because some new pirate showed up somewhere? — growled a hoarse male voice in a spacious room, its table buried in documents and sea charts.
— Yes, — said a voice from the Den Den Mushi on the table. — According to the analysts' forecast, he'll appear in Loguetown today or tomorrow at the latest. He attacked Commander Nelson and robbed the base, causing massive losses — we can't take any chances.
— Got it. We'll boost patrols, — the man muttered, putting the receiver back in its holder.
He tiredly ran a hand over his face, got up with a creaking chair, and walked to the window.
Through the glass, the noisy port was visible, with ships coming and going like blood in the city's veins. But this time, the air was different — tense.
— Damn pirates… Had to show up now, just as my Grand Line assignment was finally approved, — he grumbled, straightening his uniform and putting on his captain's cloak. — Well then… if he really is here — Loguetown will be his last port.
Meanwhile, in the city.
Gin and I walked along the dusty streets of Loguetown, weaving between market stalls and buildings, looking for something that could be called an "armory district."
— Look! — Gin pointed at a massive sign: "Hunter's Forge — Best Cannons in East Blue!"
— Just what we need, — I nodded.
The place looked solid: a brick building, with two old cannon barrels crossed at the entrance like a coat of arms.
From inside came the sound of metal striking metal and muffled conversation.
We entered. It was hot inside, and it smelled of coal and rust.
Behind the anvil stood a burly man with rolled-up sleeves, his face covered in soot.
— Oh, customers. What do you need? — he asked without looking up.
— Ship cannons, — I replied, stepping closer.
— How many?
— Six, — Gin said.
— Six hundred thousand Berries. You got it? — the blacksmith said gruffly, not turning from his notes.
— Yes, with us, — I nodded, placing a thick bag of money on the table. Coins and bundles of bills clinked softly, drawing attention.
The blacksmith looked up for the first time. His face was covered in soot and sweat, but his eyes were sharp and focused. He sized me up, then looked at Gin.
— You're not Marines… and don't look like merchants. Who are you?
I opened my mouth, but Gin stepped forward and calmly, almost lazily, but firmly said:— We're the ones who'll pay you upfront and won't haggle. As long as you don't ask unnecessary questions.
A tense silence hung for a moment.
The blacksmith stared at us for a few more seconds, then silently nodded, turned around, and shouted deeper into the workshop:— Hey, North! Show these two to the warehouse!
We exchanged glances and followed a broad-shouldered guy in greasy clothes who stepped out of the shadows and waved us forward.
He led us down a corridor past piles of rusty metal and stacks of old shells.
When we entered the warehouse, an impressive sight unfolded before us.
The hall was spacious, with a high ceiling. Rows of ship cannons lined the walls: long-barreled, short, brand-new, with castings and engravings. Some were already mounted on swiveling platforms, ready for deck installation.
To the left, we spotted an apprentice pouring molten metal into a mold. The glowing liquid hissed and steamed, making the air shimmer with heat.
— Here, take your pick, — North said, nodding at the rows. — Everything works, all checked. If needed, we'll add triggers, prep for mounting. Want cannonballs — we got 'em. Want powder-based — no problem.
I walked up to one of the cannons and ran my hand over the metal. It was smooth, cool, and solid — a true weapon of war.
— These will do, — I said. — Six pieces.
— Need cannonballs? — North asked, wiping his hands on an oily rag and looking at us again.
— Yes, — I nodded. — About fifty, standard ones for these guns.
He grunted, tilted his head as if doing mental math, and finally said:— Fifty thousand Berries — and they're yours.
I looked at Gin — he just shrugged.
— We'll take them, — I replied without hesitation. — Pack it all up with the cannons.
An hour later…
— Bellamy, I'm heading to the workshop — I'll look for something to replace my tonfa, — Gin said, wiping his brow as we finally hauled the cannons and crates of cannonballs onto the deck.
— Alright, don't be late, — I nodded. — We're still meeting at 16:00 by the ship.
He went off toward the forge district, and I remained standing at the pier.
The city was noisy, bustling, calling.
I stood for a moment, watching the waves lazily slap against the ship's hull... and walked.
Aimlessly, I wandered through the streets until my eyes caught an old sign: "Bar Gold Roger."
I picked the perfect place…