East Blue, Kalmar City.
The day after the tavern riot, the entire Marine force in the city was mobilized, startling Basco and the soldiers in his squad. They initially thought this was a massive retaliation for the previous night's incident at the tavern.
However, they soon discovered that the Marines' mobilization was to free up manpower to suppress the rampant pirate crews wreaking havoc across the East Blue. It had nothing to do with the tavern incident. The Marines involved in the riot had no chance to seek revenge, as they were immediately ordered to board warships and deployed to Marine bases across the East Blue.
But before Basco and his comrades could fully breathe a sigh of relief, they received a notice of disciplinary action from their superiors.
Although the Marines didn't have time to retaliate against those involved in the tavern riot, the incident had spread widely. The nobles of the Navia Kingdom, fearing displeasure from the Marine Headquarters—on whom they relied to regain their ruling power—acted swiftly. The riot also made these nobles sense an undercurrent of unrest, prompting them to take immediate action against Basco's squad and any identifiable participants in the riot.
As a result, Basco and his men were all confined, flogged with military rods, docked their pay, and reassigned to patrol the now-deserted port area.
Many other squads faced similar fates. After the Marines from Headquarters withdrew, critical facilities were handed over to local armed forces. From the perspective of Garp, Strawberry, Dalmatian, and Doberman—the four Vice Admirals in charge—this was a strategic decision. With insufficient manpower to combat the East Blue's pirates, it made sense to consolidate forces and deploy them to more crucial and impactful locations.
However, to Dampier, Aramis, Kuro, and others who had anticipated the Marines' response, this move effectively handed over control of Kalmar City on a silver platter.
Unlike the Marines from Headquarters, the local armed forces had complex ties within the region. Some sympathized with Morgan William's faction, others feared the remnants of his power, and some were even directly connected to his group. As a result, their efforts to secure and guard the city paled in comparison to the diligence of the Headquarters Marines.
Previously, William's staunch supporters in the city had either been evacuated by him in advance, fled during the subsequent Marine crackdowns, or were captured and imprisoned. Those who remained, no matter how angry or dissatisfied, were scattered and powerless. They lacked the courage, strength, and capacity to resist. After enduring several suppressions, they didn't even dare to try.
But now, with the withdrawal of a large number of Headquarters Marines to other parts of the East Blue, leaving Kalmar City defensively weak once again, William's loyal supporters began to infiltrate the city once more.
On the third night after the Marines handed over city defense to the locals, a small fishing boat braved the waves and docked at a private port outside Kalmar City.
Abram, his dark skin glistening, was the first to leap off the boat. He glanced around cautiously. Seeing no one, he waved to the boat, and a few young men jumped ashore.
The group formed a loose formation, moving warily toward the city. Their progress was remarkably smooth, partly because they were familiar with the terrain and partly due to the local guards' lax attitude compared to the original Marines.
At the city wall, Abram suddenly stopped. Bending down, he picked up a stone and sketched a simple drawing of a honey badger in a running pose on the wall.
Looking at the crude depiction, Abram grinned, his white teeth gleaming. "Kalmar City, your true masters are about to return."
The honey badger may not be the most powerful animal in nature, but it is undoubtedly one of the fiercest and most fearless creatures in the wild.
Smoker exhaled a cloud of smoke, staring blankly at the ruins before him.
"These pirate cannonballs are this powerful?" Smoker muttered in disbelief.
The ground he stood on was supposed to be the Marine 153rd Division Base. Supposed to be—because the area no longer resembled a Marine base, reduced to little more than rubble by relentless bombardment.
Crouching down, Smoker inspected a bloodstained stone, its surface smeared with dried blood. Behind him, a local Marine lieutenant, one of the few survivors, sorrowfully reported, "The pirates launched their first wave of attacks at night, targeting us while most were asleep. They used a weapon called the Buggy Ball, which could destroy large sections of the fortress walls with a single shot. Just a few shots were enough to breach the fortress and create openings."
"After breaking through the defenses, they released poison gas bombs. Since we rarely used gas masks and were caught off guard by the sudden large-scale attack at night, we couldn't mount an effective defense. The base was easily overrun, resulting in heavy casualties among our officers and soldiers. By the time we managed to regroup, it was too late to organize a counterattack."
Smoker furrowed his brows, puffing on his cigar as he fell into deep thought. After a moment, he asked, "Have the pirates been spotted in the surrounding waters since then?"
The lieutenant nodded.
"How many operational ships does the base have left?" Smoker continued.
"Two... two small boats, but they're not equipped for combat," the lieutenant replied hesitantly.
"Good. We set sail immediately to capture these pirates. I want to extract information about the Morgan Group from them," Smoker ordered decisively.
The lieutenant hesitated, stammering, "But with just two small boats, we might not stand a chance against those pirates. And, uh, your forces seem... a bit thin."
Smoker glanced over his shoulder at the few Headquarters soldiers he had brought along. The lieutenant also looked at the small group, noting how meager the Headquarters' support for the 153rd Division had been—practically an insult.
To the lieutenant's surprise, Smoker responded calmly, "It's enough. As long as we bring gas masks, we'll be fine."
"But..."
"Lieutenant," Smoker's sharp gaze bore into the man, "that's an order."
With no choice, the lieutenant reluctantly complied, leaving Smoker standing alone, muttering to himself, "Is this your last desperate struggle, Morgan William?"
The pirates' harassment, while troublesome for the Headquarters Marines, was ultimately just that—a nuisance. Attempting to use this chaos as a cover for a prison break was nothing short of a fool's dream. Smoker didn't believe William would resort to such a plan.
The lieutenant quickly completed the preparations. Smoker led his men aboard the two small, fragile-looking boats, which seemed like they wouldn't withstand more than a few cannon shots.
The surviving local Marines followed nervously, while the Headquarters soldiers accompanying Smoker reassured them, urging them to stay calm.
For two days, Smoker and his crew patrolled the waters, searching for the pirate ship. On the third day, to their surprise, a pirate ship found them instead.
Judging by the pirates' demeanor, they clearly saw the two small Marine boats as easy prey.
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