"It's not looking good. The rebel army has already begun to move, and the drought is making life miserable in the cities."
After the Nanohana incident ended and Crocodile was executed, Pell didn't return to Alubarna. Instead, he traveled to other regions on King Cobra's orders to assess the situation across the kingdom.
What he found was disastrous.
Although civil war hadn't erupted, the appearance of rebel factions alone meant that something had gone terribly wrong.
Especially after hearing from Robin about what Baroque Works had done behind the scenes, Pell was certain that removing Crocodile as swiftly as they did was a blessing.
And the reason was simple—Baroque Works' infiltration of the Alabasta Kingdom ran far deeper than anyone could have imagined.
Crocodile's plan had always been to destroy the royal family's credibility, to make the desert people who once loved their king turn against him.
Achieving such a goal was no easy task.
Take the droughts for example. When they struck, King Cobra would mobilize the entire nation's resources for relief efforts.
That wasn't a hypothetical—it actually happened.
Even now, those relief efforts had continued.
It was like watching a king who didn't even have servants to clean his study anymore.
That was just one small example. The royal budget had been slashed dramatically, and most of the kingdom's wealth had gone directly into drought relief.
Under such conditions, trying to vilify a benevolent king was nearly impossible.
Even if Crocodile dragged Alabasta into a drought and framed Cobra with Dance Powder, those acts of mercy would still offset much of the intended damage—perhaps even backfire.
So Robin's solution was simple.
While weaving a web that concealed Baroque Works' existence, she subtly redirected its foundation—turning honorable officials into scapegoats, assassinating the incorruptible, and replacing them with greedy collaborators.
As a result, Alabasta's administrative structure rotted from the inside out.
Good, capable governors were replaced by parasites.
The royal capital remained ignorant, because Baroque Works' assassinations had been clean and quiet.
From the capital's perspective, the relief programs just seemed less effective by the day. Public discontent grew louder.
Meanwhile, in the provinces, people saw only the soldiers "collecting relief taxes" under the king's banner—taxes that never reached them.
That's where the rift began.
Not only in drought relief, but in every sector Baroque Works had touched.
Conflicts over scarce water, the rise of local militias, the birth of the rebellion—all of it stemmed from this manipulation.
All these threads combined to create the current, disastrous state of Alabasta's domestic affairs.
In short—Crocodile was gone, but the kingdom's internal decay remained the greater threat.
This wasn't a problem that could be fixed in three months, or even a year. It would take three to five years of steady reform.
Corrupt officials had to be purged, interest groups dismantled, and the pain that came with such changes endured.
Every one of those was a real, tangible problem.
And to solve them required time—and money.
If there were enough funds to stabilize everything, Cobra could push through any reform he wished.
He had the strength—the royal army and national forces.
He had powerful allies—warriors like Pell.
He had the people's faith—the capital still adored its king.
He could even trade for rainwater to ease tensions in drought-stricken provinces.
Which brought everything back to one point—
Money. Without money, nothing could be done.
No amount of morality could fill an empty stomach.
Unfortunately, Alabasta's financial situation was dire.
In normal years, the kingdom's revenue was immense. But now, with rebellion spreading and administration failing, several major cities could no longer pay taxes at previous levels.
In fact, the rebels' uprising was directly tied to those taxes—funds that had been squeezed out of the people for "relief."
"So… it's gotten that bad?"
After hearing Pell's report, Cobra took a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding in his chest.
"Yes, I'm sorry, Your Majesty."
"This isn't your fault, Pell. At least now we know the cause."
"Princess Vivi did a great thing. Without her, we wouldn't have uncovered the truth."
"I've seen the documents myself. Crocodile planned for every one of our key officials."
"We can call it luck—and perhaps, fate—that outsider named Ren."
"Regardless of his motives," Cobra said, correcting Pell's tone, "he's a hero of Alabasta. Without him, could we have defeated Crocodile?"
"…I'm afraid not, Your Majesty."
Pell had witnessed Crocodile's power firsthand—the man could summon a sandstorm with a wave of his hand.
In a desert nation like Alabasta, facing such an enemy was practically suicide.
The odds of victory were zero.
Having studied royal records and traveled with the World Government before, Pell knew the terror of Logia-type Devil Fruits—untouchable by normal means.
Even as a Devil Fruit user himself, he wouldn't stand a chance against Crocodile.
But still, Pell didn't see Ren as a hero.
"It was a transaction. He wasn't acting out of selfless virtue."
"That doesn't matter," Cobra said firmly. "What matters is that our people were spared annihilation."
Then he sighed. "Speaking of that transaction—how much was the agreed payment again?"
"Ten billion Beli. He requested it in cash," Pell answered honestly. "For the kingdom's treasury, that's… difficult."
"Would he accept negotiation?"
"The original deal included my participation in the fight against Crocodile," Pell explained, shamefaced. "But the Nanohana incident unfolded too fast—I never got the chance to intervene or speak."
He fell to one knee. "It was my failure, Your Majesty. Please punish me."
"That can wait until the kingdom stabilizes," Cobra said, shaking his head with a tired smile. "One billion, huh? How much do we have in reserve?"
"If we combine everything you've mentioned, roughly 3.9 Billion Beli. Beyond that, we'd have to use the funds meant for relief. If we do that, gathering Ten billion is easy—but the cost would be unbearable. The drought hasn't ended yet."
Pell's words were heavy with duty and guilt.
Alabasta's finances were already stretched to breaking.
Cobra had long diverted "unnecessary" funds toward relief efforts. In truth, there was no such thing as free capital left.
That 3.9 Billion included Pell's personal savings, the pooled wealth of loyal officers, and even small contributions from ordinary citizens—all scraped together from the cracks of the nation.
Only when combined did it reach that number.
"We'll find a way," Cobra murmured, rubbing his temples. Something about Pell's numbers didn't sit right with him—it felt too high, as if others had quietly given more than he'd realized.
As the two men discussed solutions, a quiet figure behind the bookshelf covered her mouth. Vivi listened intently.
When Pell left and her father finally fell asleep at his desk, she stepped out from her hiding spot.
King Cobra lay slumped over the table, exhaustion etched into every line of his face.
Vivi stood there silently. It had been so long since she'd simply looked at her father this way.
The image in her memory no longer matched the man before her.
His clothing was no different from any desert merchant's, but his hair and beard were white now. His expression was weary, stripped of the majesty a king should possess.
To any passerby, he would look like an old man resting by the roadside.
Yet Vivi knew—her father was only forty-seven.
Still in the prime of life for a monarch.
He should've been a figure of regal strength, not a worn-out man crushed by duty.
Watching him like this, the joy she'd felt from gaining her Devil Fruit powers faded away. All that remained was a deep, aching sorrow.
Unlike her—sheltered and innocent until just a year ago—her father had always borne the weight of the nation.
He wasn't just a father. He was a king—a man who gave everything to see his people live better lives.
That crown of responsibility rested heavy on his back.
Something flickered in her eyes. She turned and quietly left the study.
She walked to the throne room at the heart of the palace.
There, upon the armrest of the throne, lay a simple golden crown—no longer a symbol of authority, just an ornament collecting dust.
In truth, the crown wasn't even gold. It was bronze, painted to look the part.
The original had been sold long ago, during the early years of the drought.
Vivi picked up the crown just as hurried footsteps echoed behind her.
"Princess—Princess Vivi! Thank goodness we found you!"
Out of breath, Igaram burst in, followed by Pell and the racing Karoo.
When Karoo had noticed Vivi missing, he'd panicked and run everywhere. Igaram, newly reinstated as captain of the guards, realized what was wrong and joined Pell in the search.
By luck, Pell had spotted her moving toward the throne room.
"Your Highness… what are you doing?"
Pell hesitated. In the past, he would have assumed she just wanted to play dress-up.
But now, there was no laughter in her eyes—only solemn resolve.
"Pell, Igaram," Vivi said, gripping the crown tightly. "If my father were to die, who would become Alabasta's next monarch?"
Both men froze.
Your Highness… are you planning a coup!?
There's absolutely no need for that!
"…You are the only remaining blood heir to the throne, Princess," Pell answered cautiously.
In truth, if given another decade, Cobra would've placed the crown upon her head himself.
"I see."
Vivi placed the crown on her head and smiled faintly. "Then allow me to be king for a day."
"Princess Vivi, what are you doing?"
"Your father once told me," she said softly, "that authority is merely an adornment on a king's robe. What truly defines a king is responsibility."
Straightening the crown, she looked at them with blazing eyes.
"As king, I now have the right to repeat the words of our ancestors—"
"The crown raises those who wear it above others, marking their status. But its true meaning is this: When calamity descends from the heavens,I will stand before it for you—So that you may always see the golden light of hope."
Outside, the desert wind howled. Sand swirled into the palace, curling around her feet like a reverent tide.
"This—this is a Devil Fruit power!?" Igaram gasped.
Pell's eyes widened in shock—it was Crocodile's ability.
"Pell," Vivi said, extending her hand, her voice calm yet commanding, "give me the 3.9 Billion. I will resolve the matter with Ren—on terms acceptable to the kingdom."
Pell's heart stopped. "You… you knew? No—were you there!?"
He understood instantly what must have happened.
Vivi didn't answer. The sand around her stirred gently, circling her like a halo.
She understood all too well how dire Alabasta's situation was.
But she also knew that moral ideals wouldn't make that man walk away empty-handed.
Ren wasn't an Alabastan. He wouldn't understand the burden of a crown—and he didn't need to.
But Vivi did.
She was the next monarch, by both blood and law.
Now that she had seen what her father carried, she could no longer stand idly by.
She knew exactly what spending 6.1 billion Beli meant for Alabasta—it wasn't just money.
It was lives. Countless lives hanging by a thread in the desert, waiting for relief that might never come.
So she made her decision.
She would take the 3.9 Billion herself—and face Ren.
Not in battle.
If Ren could defeat Crocodile, he could kill her in an instant.
She only wished to speak.
A promise might not be breakable—but promises made under duress often left room for negotiation.
Perhaps she could find that loophole.
(End of Chapter)