Merlin shrugged her shoulders, doing interesting things to her bikini clad chest, "I don't care what it does or which kind it is. I just want to examine someone who has one. It sounds and awful lot like magic to me and I'd like to confirm whether it is or not."
Peter smirked, "You don't believe it's a devil or some kind?"
She scoffed, "Not even remotely. I could see it being a spirit of some sort, perhaps. But an actual devil? No. Even if it were a devil, how does that translate to their weakness to the sea or seastone? All of us have looked over the seastone you provided and there's some magic inherent to it. Mera says she finds it as comforting as swimming in the depths. I just can't find a connection."
He nodded in understanding, "You're hoping to figure it out once and for all. I'm all for that. Once we meet someone we can study, we'll figure it out and I can see about making us artificial Devil Fruits without the weakness or the inherent flaws in the ones Doflomingo makes."
He really wanted to do it too. He'd searched his mind and he could find recipes, but something was missing. Oh, they would work exactly like a normal Devil Fruit, weakness to water and all. But there was something... wrong with them that he couldn't understand. He, much like Merlin, wanted one to study in person to see what it was missing. It was like... whatever it was missing wasn't covered by the limitations of his Essense. Just like how he figured out how to enchant items in a round about way, he would have to look for a round about way to finish the Devil Fruits properly.
Merlin hummed at his answer and studied the island as they got closer. There was a decent sized village with a pier within sight. Behind the village was jungle that led to a large mountain range. Then, just passed the mountain range, the sky changed. I twas filled with black clouds and lightning, a storm that hadn't moved an inch since they first spotted it on the horizon.
Once they were close enough, those interested in going ashore hopped into a long boat. Peter was joined by Merlin, Domino, Artoria, Alex, and Mera. Without being asked, Mera dropped into the ocean and got behind the wooden boat to push it. Peter let out a laugh and whooped as she pushed the boat faster than any Cigarette boat could hope to match. They had to be going at least a hundred miles and hour. At that speed, it took them no time at all to arrive at the dock where they were met by shocked looks from the few people there.
There was a moment of silence before an old woman at the end of the dock yelled loudly, "PIRATES!"
While Peter and his crew got out of the long boat, or jumped from the ocean to the dock in Mera's case, the locals ran screaming. Doors slammed closed, window shades were drawn, and soon the place looked abandoned.
Peter looked around with a small frown and sighed, "You know, I get the reaction, I do. Still, it irks me." He looks at the bevy of beauties he arrived with, minus himself and Alex, and sighs, "You would think pretty women would help them not panic so completely." His eyes roam over the area until he spots what he's looking for, "Come on, there's a bar over there. Hopefully we can find how long the pose will take to set there, maybe pick up some of whatever the local specialty is."
That was one of the few things he couldn't conjure up, good booze. Oh, he could make alcohol that would make gods weep. The problem is, good alcohol takes TIME. Until he could figure out a way to accelerate time in a small area, he'd be looking at a decade, minimum, just to make a good whiskey. Other things could be made quicker, but the good stuff always took time. He didn't want hash moonshine, he wanted smooth, smokey, and earthy flavors with a rich aftertaste! Even magical liquors took time to age properly! He very much wanted to drink Firewhiskey, even just once, but it took fifty years to age properly! FIFTY!
Time shenanigans were a go.
Until then, he planned to make due with the local beverages he could get his hands on. He was still looking for something that reminded him of a good Scotch. No luck thus far, but he had hope!
Peter pushed the door to the pub open and looked inside the drearily lit interior. There were a surprising number of people within the pub for the time of day, four and the bartender. A man sat at the far end of the bar, head down and snoring. He might've been there all night... or he really got started early.
The last three were all sitting at a table together in the back. Just a single glance at them had Peter thinking 'pirates'. It wasn't any one thing but a bunch of small things such as the one man's golden hoop earring or the other mans missing teeth. He could be wrong, but he honestly doubted it. Either way, it was none of his business so he ignored them and led his group to the bar.
As they approached, the bartender reached down to grab something. He set it down with a solid thunk revealing a short club with the head of it wrapped in bands of iron, "Don't want no trouble."
Peter stopped at the bar and stared into the eyes of the bartender while the bartender stared back. The tension within the room grew as they stared at each other. Slowly, Peter reached into an interior pocket of his jacket, his movement ratcheting the tension up. With a sudden jerk he whips his hand out of his coat and slams it down onto the counter with a muffled 'whump!' sound. Everyone not on his crew jerks in surprise at the sudden action, the bartender even has the club in his hand and hefted for a fight.
Until he see's what's on the counter.