Chapter 13: An Ideal That Shakes the Hall
[Ding!]
[Congratulations, Host, for successfully defeating Gladius, 'Spade Officer of the Don Quixote Family,' user of the Paramecia Pop-Pop Fruit!]
[Reward Gained: 350 Enhancement Points!]
[Current Accumulated Points: 1750 Points!]
[Reminder: Every 1000 points can be used to...]
Three hundred and fifty points! A surge of genuine excitement coursed through Ian. A mere officer of the family was worth over three hundred points. If one of the Warlords themselves were to fall... his evolution would skyrocket.
But that was a thought for another day. The immediate concern was navigating the political fallout from his clash with a Warlord's crew.
A few days later.
Marineford, Navy Headquarters.
The fortress was a monolith of steel and justice, a terrifyingly majestic structure rising from the sea. Its walls, thick and unyielding, had withstood the erosion of time and the fury of war, standing as an unwavering symbol of naval might and the faith of every Marine who served under its banner.
At this moment, within a spacious, brightly lit conference room, many of the Navy's most important figures had gathered. The occasion was supposed to be Ian's promotion ceremony. He had arrived at Marineford safely an hour prior, only to be immediately ushered into this room. The atmosphere, however, felt less like a celebration and more like an inquisition.
The reason for the "trial-like" ambiance was clear. Fleet Admiral Sengoku himself sat at the head of the table, flanked by eight high-ranking officers—four on his left, four on his right—forming a formidable semicircle around the lone figure standing in the center. Ian had just finished delivering a comprehensive report on the incident with the Don Quixote ship, down to the most minute details of the battle.
Tina stood near the door, a special attendee to the proceedings.
With his report concluded, Ian took a moment to study the legends arrayed before him. Tina's quick introductions upon entry, paired with their distinct appearances, made their identities clear.
At the center sat Fleet Admiral Sengoku. To his left were the Hero of the Navy, Vice Admiral Garp, and the brilliant strategist, Vice Admiral Tsuru. To his right was one of the three Marine Admirals, "Aokiji," Kuzan. The other five were all elite Vice Admirals: "Pink Rabbit" Gion and "Brown Pig" Tokikake, both candidates for the Admiral position, and the veterans Momousagi, Momonga, and Doberman, who had all participated in the brutal Buster Call on Enies Lobby.
This concentration of the Navy's top-tier combat power, assembled for a newly promoted Commodore, was unprecedented.
"Jock Ian," Sengoku's voice was stern, cutting through the silence. "Based on your account, what concrete evidence did you have to justify boarding and engaging a Warlord's vessel?"
"I had no evidence," Ian replied, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture ramrod straight and unflinching. "Only inference."
"Inference?" Sengoku's brow furrowed. "Are you unaware that a Branch Captain has no authority to initiate hostilities with a Warlord of the Sea without direct orders from above?"
It was a question of rules and protocol, a refrain Ian had grown tired of hearing. He knew that in a time of strict peace, Sengoku and Tina would be correct. But this was not a time of peace; it was an era of all-out war on the seas, where the Navy was expected to fight unruly pirates with one hand tied by bureaucracy. He wondered how many in this room truly followed the letter of the law themselves.
"I may not have had the authority," Ian's voice was calm, his gaze steady. "But I had the responsibility to protect the East Blue." He met Sengoku's eyes. "Marshal Sengoku, I've been perfectly clear. They fired the first shot. My actions were self-defense. I called for an inspection, not a declaration of war. Isn't it inherently suspicious that a ship belonging to a New World Warlord like Don Quixote Doflamingo was operating in the East Blue?" He paused, letting the question hang. "In fact, everyone in this room knows it's suspicious. I believe the Don Quixote family also knows we would find it suspicious. Yet they were there anyway, doing whatever they pleased. They are emboldened, believing themselves untouchable. So, I chose to touch them."
His words were a rapid-fire volley, a logical onslaught. The core of his argument was simple: their presence was an act of aggression in itself, and he had responded in kind.
At the table, Garp's shoulders began to shake. He covered his mouth with one hand, a low rumble of suppressed laughter escaping his lips.
Tsuru glanced at him. "Laughing so heartily? Did you even understand what the boy said?" she whispered.
Garp flashed a wide, toothy grin. "Not a word of it!"
Tsuru sighed. "..."
Garp leaned closer, his voice a low grumble. "You don't need to understand the words, Tsuru. I only understood one thing. He knew they were Shichibukai, and he wasn't afraid. Even when our own ships yielded, he held fast to his own line of justice. The kid's got spine!"
Tsuru studied Garp's face, taken aback by the rare, unadulterated admiration she saw there.
After a moment of heavy silence, Sengoku shifted his approach. "Jock Ian," he began, his tone slightly less confrontational. "You will soon assume your post here at Headquarters. You will face far more complex situations. Given your recent... unilateral actions, it is difficult for me to believe you will follow the orders of your superiors on the battlefield. What do you have to say to that?"
Ian knew what Sengoku wanted to hear—a promise of future obedience, a vow to follow orders without question. But that was a vow he could not make.
He thought for a moment, then spoke clearly. "If my superior's order is to punish evil, I will carry it out without hesitation. But if I am ordered to weigh political costs and ignore the lives of innocent civilians... I cannot do it." He locked eyes with the Fleet Admiral. "Marshal Sengoku, fifty children. Fifty young, vibrant lives... If you were in my position, what orders would you have given?"
Sengoku's face darkened. "..."
A ripple of shock went through the assembled officers. This meeting had been called to scrutinize Ian, and yet he had turned the tables, putting the Fleet Admiral himself on the spot. The audacity was staggering.
Ian was no fool. He was strategically planting himself on the moral high ground, making it impossible for Sengoku to give a clean answer. To say "military orders are supreme" would be to devalue innocent lives—a statement the public face of the Marines could never utter.
Unable to refute the core of Ian's argument, Sengoku's frustration showed. His mustache twitched. "So, the 'Adjudicator of the Sea'... Ian, do you believe that just because you've achieved the feat of a 'pirate-free East Blue,' you can look down upon everyone at Headquarters?"
Caught off guard by the shift, Ian snapped to a crisp salute, his expression the very picture of righteous fervor. "No, Marshal Sengoku!" he declared, his voice ringing through the chamber. "In my eyes, that is not even a true achievement. My ideal is far greater... a world entirely without pirates!"
In that moment, his theatrical personality took full command, and Ian projected the image of a vigorous, unyielding, and utterly fearless Marine, his ideal so grand it seemed to silence the very room.
End of Chapter