Reclining on a lounge chair with a cigar in his teeth and sunglasses shading his eyes, Ozz tilted his gaze a fraction when he heard the report.
"Oh? Sammi, is that you? What is it?"
"Lord Ozz…" On the other end of the transponder snail, Sammi's voice was soft and respectful, as if afraid to disturb his mood. Her pretty features were held a touch too tight.
Ozz did not mind in the least. He chuckled. "No need to be so stiff, Sammi. I know your nature. You never trouble me unless it matters. So breathe."
In a high office above the Sabaody Archipelago, Sammi let out the tiniest sigh of relief. A charming smile touched her lips. "Your travels and your enjoyment are always our first concern." She truly meant it. Sheltered by Ozz, she and the sisters of the red-light district had flourished. "We will never forget your kindness."
That was pleasant to hear. The curve at Ozz's mouth deepened. Being remembered by a beauty had its own sweetness.
"All right, I understand. Tell me the business," he said. "If you made this call, it is because you hit a wall."
Only then did Sammi lay out the situation. "A few days ago, Crocodile…," she began, and when she finished, she added quietly, "which is why I can only report to you. The World Government's stance this time is not what it used to be."
Sammi could not help feeling aggrieved. For that shabby World Government to slight Lord Ozz like this.
"I look away from the papers for a few days and Little Sand already stirs up trouble?" Ozz's tone went wry. He had not expected her to be quite so headstrong.
He would grant that under his wing Crocodile's strength had outstripped the same point in the original timeline. He had given her plenty of pointers on Haki and Devil Fruit development. But picking a fight with Sakazuki?
That man had already reached solid admiral level, and not the weakest of the three. In elemental matchups, sand did not come out ahead of magma either.
Was she not worried about getting melted into a very pretty glass statue?
"The condition for releasing her is that she enters the Seven Warlords program?" Ozz asked.
"Yes."
Ozz rubbed his chin. There was no flash of outrage. A line like this was something you fed to Sammi because Sammi could not decide anything herself, and it let them posture as firm for once. If he had personally picked up the line, it would not have been CP0 at the other end. The Elders would have convened on the spot.
If he had insisted no Warlords, release her the odds were they would have complied anyway. It would just sour both sides, and they would start denying each other face over small things afterward.
There was no need for that.
"That works," he said.
Sammi blinked. For a heartbeat she wondered if she had misheard.
But Ozz was quite clear. "Tell Crocodile to accept the Seven Warlords nomination. I support it. If they invite Mihawk as well, you may relay that my attitude is the same. Face lasts only if it is given both ways."
The truth was, Ozz had never thought much of the Warlords as a concept. At most, it had been a side move while he was roping in the Little Flamingo. But if the Government meant to follow the original plan and bring in Crocodile and Mihawk, then the game grew interesting.
Mihawk, Crocodile, Doflamingo and sooner or later the Empress, Boa Hancock four of seven would already be in his orbit. More than half.
Anyone who has ever opened snack packs knows the feeling. When you pull one collectible card, you do not necessarily care to complete the set. But once you have most of them, a funny itch sets in. You want the whole sheet.
Call it compulsion. Or just a tidy mind.
"Besides," Ozz added lazily, "it is a badge of rank. On paper it sits across from the Emperors."
"…Understood," Sammi said. She did not fully grasp what such a title was good for, but obedience was her strong suit. If Lord Ozz had decided, then she would carry it out without an ounce of slack.
She placed a call through the network to reach Mihawk. The swordsman answered quickly. At that moment he happened to be sharing a drink with Rayleigh.
On Ozz's tab, naturally.
"What is it?" The snail's face sharpened into that unmistakable hawk's gaze as Mihawk posed the question.
Sammi explained the Warlords invitation in simple terms. Mihawk's expression did not change. He sipped his red wine in silence, plainly unenthusiastic.
Beside him, the Dark King lifted his own glass and listened, a glint catching on the rim of his lenses. "Why not accept? If your dream is to be the greatest swordsman in the world, a status like that makes life easier. You would be able to appear anywhere by law and challenge anyone you please."
Mihawk weighed it. In the original flow of events, perhaps he would have accepted to avoid unnecessary trouble. Now, even without the Government, he could come and go anywhere in the world. Ozz's name opened doors.
He remained reluctant.
It was as if Sammi had anticipated this. She added, after a beat, "Mihawk, the request that you accept the Government's nomination to the Seven Warlords also comes from Lord Ozz."
Mihawk paused. His mouth parted, then closed. He said nothing for a long second, something like resignation moving behind his eyes.
You could have led with that.
In the end he inclined his head. It was assent, even if he did not say the word.
…
Doflamingo would be easier.
When that call ended, Sammi dialed another code, routing it to the New World. The line clicked, and a cruel red gleam appeared on the snail's features above a grin full of swagger. A pink feathered coat rippled in the background.
"Fufufufufu… how rare, Lady Sammi. I did not expect you to seek me out."
New World, Dressrosa.
In a gilded room, Doflamingo had just arrived to lay groundwork for the slow theft of a kingdom. He had not expected Sammi's call. Though they were both under Ozz, they were not particularly friendly. Partners and rivals made a prickly mix. Business aside, they seldom had cause to speak.
Sammi's next sentence wiped the grin from his face. He set down his raised leg without being asked.
"I am not calling to chat, Doflamingo," she said. "I am calling under Lord Ozz's orders."
The line held for a heartbeat, the susurrus of feathers the only sound, and then the Heavenly Yaksha leaned forward to listen.