Ragnar had traded the steam of the hot springs for the cool, dry air of his private chambers within the palace.
He'd dressed in simple, comfortable black trousers and a loose, dark tunic that did little to conceal the formidable frame beneath.
The scent of mineral water and feminine perfume still clung faintly to his skin, a pleasant reminder of the scene he'd left behind. He was pouring himself a glass of aged Alabastan whiskey when the door opened and two figures entered.
Zoro, looking immensely pleased with himself, and Kuro, whose usual composed demeanor held a faint aura of long-suffering patience.
Ragnar took a slow sip, the amber liquid burning a smooth path down his throat. His golden eyes, which were sharp and perceptive as always, moved from Zoro's triumphant grin to Kuro's subtly exasperated expression. He didn't need any Observation Haki to read this particular story.
"How?" Ragnar asked. It was a single word, laden with expectation. And he was pretty confident that Zoro had beaten Smoker up very badly.
Zoro's grin widened, like a flash of white in the dim light. He opened his mouth to boast, but Kuro cut in with the flat, efficient tone of a mission report.
"He got lost three times between the palace gate and the main boulevard. He nearly inspected the Royal Harem, and he almost challenged a decorative suit of armor. I guided him to the Marine encampment. He then engaged Captain Smoker in combat." Kuro paused, adjusting his glasses.
"The result was… decisive."
Now Zoro couldn't contain himself. "Decisive? I mopped the floor with that smoke-blower! His Logia trick doesn't work anymore, not against my Haki!" He puffed out his chest, crossing his arms.
"He tried his 'White Launcher' and I blocked it with Ushi Bari, didn't even budge! Then I finished him with the Lion's Song. One clean cut. He was bleeding all over the place before he even hit the ground."
"Captain Hina and her subordinates attempted to intervene. I… discouraged them." Kuro gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod of confirmation and then spoke.
A slow, genuine smile spread across Ragnar's face. It was a rare expression, one of pure, unadulterated satisfaction.
He looked at Zoro, seeing not just his first mate, but a weapon he had personally helped to forge, now honed to a razor's edge.
Since he knew how to train haki, Zoro has been working very hard, and he believes that Zoro is close to reaching the level he had two years after the time skip in the manga.
"Good," Ragnar said, the single word carrying the weight of immense praise.
"Very good, Zoro. To master Armament to that degree so quickly… you've exceeded expectations. That's the kind of growth I need at my right hand." He raised his glass slightly in a silent toast to his swordsman's victory.
Zoro's chest swelled with pride. Praise from anyone else was meaningless noise. But from Ragnar, a man whose strength he respected above all others, it was a currency more valuable than gold.
"Just getting started, Captain. There are bigger fish to cut." Zoro said.
"That there are," Ragnar agreed, his gaze turning thoughtful as he swirled the whiskey in his glass.
"We'll stay here in Alabasta for a couple more days. Let the crew enjoy the rest, let Vivi and Cobra solidify their rule without the immediate shadow of our presence. Let the World Government's spies report that we've moved on, grown complacent. Then we set sail."
"Understood," Kuro said immediately. "I'll have the Tidereaver resupplied and ready. The local shipwrights have already begun repairs from the minor damage sustained in the river battle."
Zoro grunted, leaning against the wall. "Fine by me. This place is too dry anyway. My swords are starting to feel gritty." He glanced around the opulent room. "And these fancy pillows are too soft. I miss my hammock."
Ragnar chuckled, a low, warm sound. "Comfort is a trap for the weak. But even a blade needs a sheath to rest in occasionally."
"Help yourselves. We've earned a moment of peace." He gestured with his glass towards a sideboard where several bottles and clean glasses stood.
Zoro didn't need to be told twice. He strode over, bypassing the delicate crystal glasses entirely and grabbing a heavy ceramic mug, filling it to the brim with the potent whiskey.
Kuro was more fastidious, selecting a simple tumbler and pouring a precise two fingers of the spirit.
For a few moments, a comfortable silence fell over the room, the three most dangerous men on the ship simply existing in a shared space, the bonds of crew and combat thicker than blood.
"So," Zoro began after a long swallow from his mug.
"What's with you and the archaeologist? Saw you two getting pretty cozy after you came back from wherever you disappeared to."
Ragnar took a sip, his expression unreadable. "Robin has pledged her loyalty. Fully. And I have accepted it. In all forms."
"Huh. So she's part of the crew now. For real." Zoro raised an eyebrow.
"She was always going to be," Ragnar stated, as if it were a fundamental law of the universe.
"She possesses knowledge we need. And a perspective the rest of you lack." His eyes flickered to Zoro. "Does it bother you?"
Zoro shrugged, taking another gulp. "Why would it? As long as she pulls her weight in a fight and doesn't try to stab us in the back, she can do whatever she wants. She's strong. That's what matters." His worldview was beautifully, brutally simple.
Kuro, who had been silently observing, spoke up. "Her integration will require careful management. Nami's… disposition regarding the Captain is volatile."
Ragnar's lip curled. "Nami's disposition is that of a spoiled kitten who hasn't decided if she wants to be petted or scratch your eyes out. She'll fall in line." He said it with such absolute certainty that it brooked no argument.
"Robin is handling it." Ragnar continued.
Zoro barked a laugh. "Yeah, good luck with that. Better her than me. I'd rather fight ten Smokers than get in the middle of that."
"Your talents lie elsewhere," Kuro agreed dryly.
"Speaking of which, what is our next destination, Captain? After we depart Alabasta."
"We follow the Log Pose. But our ultimate heading is Jaya." Ragnar said as he finished his drink and set the glass down with a definitive click.
"Jaya?" Zoro frowned. "Never heard of it. Strong fighters?"
"It's a nest of pirates and dreamers," Ragnar explained.
"But above it… lies something far more interesting. A place in the sky."
"In the sky? What, like a cloud?" Zoro stared blankly.
"An island," Ragnar clarified, a hint of anticipation in his voice.
"Skypiea. A land detached from the world below, ripe with its own secrets, its own challenges. And according to the records I have access to, potentially another Poneglyph."
Kuro's eyes gleamed behind his glasses. "An airborne tactical environment. That presents unique advantages and complications. Our ship is not designed for flight."
"The Tidereaver is designed for whatever I require of it," Ragnar countered, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "We'll find a way. We always do."
Zoro just grinned, it was a savage, eager expression.
"Sky island, huh? I wonder if the guys up there know how to use swords. Hope they're tougher than that sand bastard." He cracked his neck. "This is getting interesting."
"That is the understatement of the century, swordsman," Kuro murmured, a rare, genuine smile touching his own lips.
The quiet camaraderie of the moment, the shared purpose, the promise of unknown skies and new battles, this was what it meant to sail under the flag of the Sea Scourge.