Chapter 31: The Board is Set
There's an old saying among sailors:
A butterfly flaps its wings on one side of the world, and a storm brews on the other.
Metaphorically, it means that sometimes, the smallest change can alter the course of a great event.
...
Vergil felt this truth deeply now.
Under normal circumstances, Crocodile would never have left Alabasta. He would have remained, lurking in his dual role as the kingdom's "hero" and the shadowy master of Baroque Works, patiently plotting to uncover the Poneglyph.
Years later, just as his scheme to steal the nation reached its climax, he would have been stopped—and defeated—by the Straw Hat Pirates.
But the moment "Caesar Clown salvaged the ancient stone slab" became a reality, everything changed.
Crocodile, hungry for any clue to the Ancient Weapons, chose to temporarily abandon his sandcastle kingdom and venture into the New World.
There, he witnessed the awakening of Alvin Vergil. He endured the Sabaody riots. And now, returning to Alabasta with this ancient variable in tow, he was greeted by a piece of shocking news:
A neighboring kingdom was preparing for war with Alabasta?
...
That's… not right.
Something was off.
Crocodile kept his expression neutral, the cigar clenched tight in his teeth as he studied the grandfather and grandson before him. His mind raced.
He'd been gone barely over a month. How could a war have materialized so suddenly? By skipping the surrounding islands on his return, he'd missed any news of a "sea ban."
What in the world is happening here?
He tried to pry more details from the two fishermen, but their answers were jumbled and frantic. They were Alabastan citizens, yes, but they bore none of the discipline or bearing of the Royal Army. They were nervous, almost skittish.
"Tch. Amateurs…" Crocodile muttered under his breath, shaking his head. He let them gather their wits while he took the helm, steering toward the port. Vergil quietly tied their small fishing boat to the stern.
As they approached the dock, Vergil's own curiosity was piqued. What could have happened in Alabasta? This was a Grand Line superpower, a nation of over 60 million square kilometers with a standing army of 600,000. Even the World Government tread carefully here. What "neighboring" kingdom would be so foolish as to provoke it?
Furthermore, King Nefertari Cobra was renowned for his compassion. He would never willingly send civilians to the front lines. So why were these two patrolling?
Too many questions swirled in the air.
...
The ship docked at last. Vergil officially set foot in Alabasta.
Their landing point was the port city famous for its perfume: Nanohana.
Even Vergil could sense the palpable tension. Nanohana, normally a bustling, vibrant trade hub, was now eerily quiet. No street vendors called out their wares. The usual hum of life was absent. Scattered soldiers of the Royal Army stood guard at intersections. Most citizens remained shut inside their homes, while a few ad-hoc militiamen patrolled the streets.
The atmosphere was thick with the dread of impending conflict.
Nearby, the grandfather and grandson finally caught their breath. Relieved by Crocodile's dismissive forgiveness, they began calling out to their neighbors.
"Everyone! Sir Crocodile has returned!"
The announcement sparked an instant commotion. Doors creaked open. Dozens of people poured into the street, their murmurs quickly swelling into a buzz of excitement and relief.
"Sir Crocodile! You're finally back!"
"Are you alright? Do you need to rest?"
"Thank goodness! With you here, His Majesty will surely lead us to victory!"
"…"
The clamoring crowd made Crocodile's eye twitch. He held these easily swayed commoners in utter contempt. But his carefully constructed persona in Alabasta was that of the "Hero" who repelled pirates. He had to play the part.
Seeing he'd get no clear answers from the mob, Crocodile excused himself with practiced charm and pulled a few Royal Army soldiers into a side alley. He gestured vaguely at Vergil. "This is my… associate." The last word tasted sour.
Alabasta was his chessboard. He needed to know who was moving the other pieces.
"So," he demanded, his voice dropping to a cold, authoritative tone. "What happened while I was away?"
"…"
The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances. After a moment, their captain stepped forward. "To be honest, sir, even we are not entirely certain…"
"Oh?" Crocodile's eyebrow lifted.
The captain's explanation only deepened the mystery. "Not long after you left, these… appeared." He pulled a crumpled leaflet from his uniform and handed it to Crocodile. It was cheaply printed, the text bold and inflammatory.
"It's a declaration of war from the Drum Kingdom," the captain continued. "King Wapol claims a rebellion broke out in his country. He alleges the ringleader is now hiding here in Alabasta, even colluding with our royal family. He demands we hand over the 'criminal,' or face the consequences."
"The people refuse to believe King Cobra would ever do such a thing," another soldier added. "His Majesty tried to open communications with Drum, but there's been no response. Just silence."
"And for the past month," the captain finished, his voice grim, "our merchant caravans and fishing boats have suffered repeated attacks from Drum Kingdom forces. Harassment, hit-and-run raids. It hasn't stopped. Public sentiment grew… heated. Many volunteered for militia duty. That's why the city is like this."
"…"
Crocodile processed the information, his face a mask of stone. The explanation provided a framework, but it only made the situation seem more absurd.
He'd done his homework on the surrounding nations. He knew of the Drum Kingdom and its current king, Wapol. The former was a small, mountainous nation. The latter was a gluttonous, greedy, and profoundly stupid man.
An idiot. A cruel, incompetent fool.
Neither the kingdom nor its king were significant threats. So why this? Why now?
"The attacks are sporadic, not a full invasion," the captain sighed. "But they're constant, like deliberate provocations. They're hard to defend against. His Majesty stationed us here more to maintain public order and calm nerves than anything else."
"…"
"I see."
Crocodile nodded slowly, his mind already turning. These soldiers only knew the surface. For the real story, he needed to speak with Cobra himself.
...
Their journey to the capital, Alubarna, began.
It meant crossing the vast, sun-scorched desert.
For ordinary travelers, such a trek required immense preparation. For two Devil Fruit users, it was merely a matter of time.
Vergil found the desert landscape magnificent in its stark, endless beauty and chose to walk, absorbing the new experience.
Crocodile, however, was preoccupied. After organizing his thoughts, he took out a Den Den Mushi and placed a call ahead to the royal palace in Alubarna.
Pururu… Pururu…
Click.
"Your Majesty," Crocodile's voice was smooth, layered with false concern. After the briefest pleasantries, he cut to the chase. "My voyage proved… informative. I investigated certain matters of interest."
He allowed a pregnant pause, then continued, his tone dropping conspiratorially. "I have reason to suspect the unusual aggression from the Drum Kingdom is connected to something within your royal catacombs."
On the other end, King Cobra's confusion was audible. "The catacombs? What could possibly be there?"
Crocodile paused again, as if carefully weighing his words, before uttering the two syllables that were his entire purpose here:
"…The Poneglyph."
...
"…"
Clap. Clap.
Vergil, walking beside him, watched the performance and couldn't help but offer a slow, silent round of applause.
You had to hand it to the crocodile. He was a natural at weaving lies from thin air.
(End of Chapter)
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