# **TRUE PIECE**
## **Chapter 13: The Power Fleet**
### **The Diner Arc — Part 2**
The forty-eight Capability Exchange collectors reached the **Last Stop Diner** first.
Their defeat arrived before they did.
Chains connected their black recovery ship to the seven damaged hulls supporting the diner. Mechanical paddle wheels reversed. Metal hooks pulled hard enough to bend the outer railings.
The collectors swung across the narrowing gap.
Analog met the first with two serving trays.
One tray caught a sword.
His wrist turned.
The blade slid harmlessly past his ribs.
The second tray struck the collector's chest.
Metal armor folded inward.
The man crossed the dining room, passed over six customers, and landed inside the washing basin.
Three hundred clean plates rose.
Eullian Hound stared upward in horror.
"No."
The plates fell.
Ceramic shattered across the floor.
Eullian dropped to his knees.
"My work."
A second collector landed behind Analog.
Analog stepped aside.
The attacker's electrified baton passed beneath his arm.
Analog caught the man's wrist with one scarred hand, struck the elbow with the edge of a tray, and drove his forehead into the collector's nose.
Blood crossed the kitchen steam.
The collector fell.
Analog looked toward Eullian.
"Help."
"You let the dishes die."
"They were already falling."
"You could have caught them."
"There were three hundred."
"You have two hands."
"That is not enough hands."
"Then apologize."
A rifle fired from the recovery ship.
Tallen Vey's rebuilt weapon answered.
His blunt round struck the incoming bullet over the water.
Both pieces of metal changed direction.
One entered the sea.
The other struck the collector ship's speaking horn.
The woman issuing repossession orders disappeared beneath collapsing brass.
Tallen lowered the first of his four observation lenses.
"Apology later."
Hijo Albino's white threads crossed the diner.
Two boarding chains separated.
Three collectors lost their weapon belts.
A fourth discovered that both bootlaces had been tied to the same ceiling hook.
He rose upside down.
Hijo looked toward Analog.
"Forty-seven remain."
Analog struck a tray against a collector's jaw.
"Forty-six."
Mira Cale stood near the diner's central support column with the Open Ledger secured beneath her injured arm.
Her braced wrist rested against the hilt of a dockworker's borrowed hook.
"Runa!"
Runa Above-Storm leaned through the giant service wall.
The sixteen-foot Height girl seized one of the recovery ship's boarding chains.
"Pull?"
"Not yet!"
Runa frowned.
"Why hold chain if not pull?"
"Because their ship is attached to the diner!"
"That sounds like reason to pull."
"It is the reason not to!"
Three armored collectors landed together.
Eullian moved.
His right fist remained splinted.
His leg still hurt.
His damaged lung refused deep breaths.
He used his left hand.
The first collector swung a hooked blade.
Eullian caught the flat side, turned the weapon, and sent its owner into the second attacker.
The third drove a reinforced shoulder into Eullian's wounded ribs.
Pain emptied his chest.
Eullian stumbled.
The collector raised a short metal spear.
Analog's tray struck the spearhead sideways.
Eullian seized the opening.
His left palm entered the collector's armor.
He did not punch.
He pushed.
The man left the diner through the same window he had entered.
Glass followed him into the sea.
Analog looked at the broken window.
"You will repair that."
"He brought the window into the fight."
"You pushed him through it."
"He was emotionally connected to it."
"That sentence means nothing."
"It helped me."
The recovery ship's paddle wheels roared.
The chains pulled harder.
The diner shifted.
Broth escaped three enormous pots.
Customers grabbed tables.
Pirates and Marines who had been eating beside one another moments earlier worked together to keep the central counter upright.
Analog looked toward Runa.
"Now."
Runa smiled.
She pulled.
The chain snapped tight.
The entire black recovery vessel stopped moving forward.
Its paddle wheels continued beating the sea.
Wood cracked along its stern.
Runa planted both enormous feet against the diner's outer platform.
"Small ship stubborn."
"Keep it still!" Mira shouted.
Tallen fired three rope bolts.
They crossed the gap and struck the recovery ship's exposed machinery.
Hijo sent threads along the ropes.
White lines entered the paddle-wheel housing.
They cut the drive belts.
One wheel stopped.
Then another.
The remaining wheels fought against the dead mechanisms.
The ship turned sideways.
Analog grabbed the Last Stop's emergency bell.
He rang it four times.
Diner workers opened hidden panels beneath the outer roofs.
Eight harpoons emerged.
Six functioning.
Two broken.
Tallen looked at Hijo.
"You were correct."
Hijo's pale eyes shifted toward him.
"About what?"
"Six useful harpoons."
Hijo almost smiled.
The diner fired.
Six thick lines crossed the night.
They struck the recovery vessel above its waterline.
The harpoons did not pierce deeply.
They opened valves.
Seawater stored in elevated diner tanks rushed through attached hoses.
Thousands of gallons poured onto the collector ship.
Its deck flooded.
Its electrical equipment sparked.
Collectors screamed and abandoned their armor.
The woman beneath the broken speaking horn rose.
"Retreat!"
Analog placed one tray on the counter.
"No."
The recovery commander stared.
Analog picked up the Common Meal notebook's empty storage case.
"You came for people."
His voice remained level.
"Leave the ship."
The commander reached toward a pistol.
Tallen's shot removed it.
Hijo's thread tied her wrist to the speaking horn.
Eullian smiled.
"You heard the cook."
The collectors surrendered.
Not because the Peace Crew had defeated every one of them.
Because the diner's customers stood now.
Pirates.
Marines.
Merchants.
Prisoners.
Fishermen.
Cooks.
People the Capability Exchange had classified by value.
Every person held a plate.
A tool.
A weapon.
A chair.
One elderly customer raised a spoon with alarming commitment.
Forty-eight collectors had expected escaped assets.
They found several hundred unpaid consequences.
The last collector dropped his baton.
For one breath, the diner became silent.
Then something struck the sea beyond the recovery ship.
Not a cannonball.
A person.
The impact sent a circular wall of water above both vessels.
The wave lifted the black ship, tore three of the diner's harpoon lines free, and buried the docking ring beneath white water.
Eullian grabbed Analog.
Analog caught the Common Meal's storage case.
Mira held the central support.
Hijo's threads anchored six customers.
Tallen tied himself to the counter.
Runa simply remained standing.
The wave passed.
Water streamed from the diner's roof.
The captured recovery ship rolled violently.
Several collectors fell overboard.
A bare human arm reached from the water and placed them back onto their deck.
One by one.
The hand was enormous.
Not Height Tribe enormous.
Ordinary human proportions taken to the final edge of believable size.
A man rose from the sea.
Water fell from his shoulders.
His feet found the submerged side of the recovery ship.
Then he stood upon it.
He wore no armor.
No coat.
No shoes.
No weapon.
Only loose black trousers tied with a thick yellow rope.
His upper body was bare.
Scars crossed it without pattern.
Sword cuts.
Bullet wounds.
Burns.
Animal bites.
One broad mark across his stomach resembled the print of a ship's bow.
He appeared to be in his early forties, though his thick dark hair contained no gray. It hung wet across his back.
His beard had been cut short.
His face was calm.
Not Chief Asia's lethal stillness.
Something simpler.
The calm of a mountain that had never considered moving away from weather.
The black recovery ship leaned beneath his weight.
Eullian stared.
"That man jumped into the ocean."
Tallen studied the sea behind him.
"No vessel within immediate range."
"Then where did he jump from?"
Tallen changed lenses.
His expression tightened.
"The horizon."
Analog looked toward him.
"That is not a distance."
"It is the best answer available."
The stranger bent his knees.
He jumped.
The recovery ship dropped six feet when his weight left it.
The man crossed the docking ring and landed on the Last Stop Diner's outer platform.
No explosion.
No dramatic crater.
The wood bent slowly beneath his bare feet.
Every linked hull groaned.
The man adjusted his balance.
The wood stopped bending.
He had felt the structure weakening and redistributed his weight before it broke.
Runa leaned closer.
"You are small giant."
The man looked upward.
"You are a large child."
Runa smiled.
"I like him."
Mira did not.
The man walked toward the central kitchen.
Customers moved aside.
Not because he threatened them.
Because remaining in his path felt like standing in front of a closing door.
Eullian stepped forward.
The man stopped.
His eyes moved over Eullian's body.
Splinted fist.
Healing leg.
Bullet scars.
Poor balance.
"Nearly dead recently."
Eullian nodded.
"Three times."
"That is wasteful."
"Yes."
"Did you win?"
"Yes."
"Then less wasteful."
Analog picked up both trays.
"State your business."
The man looked at him.
"You are Analog."
"Yes."
"You built the Common Meal."
Analog's hands tightened.
"Who told you?"
"Twenty-one people."
"Names."
"Later."
The man looked toward the captured Capability Exchange collectors.
"They came to take you."
"Yes."
"They failed."
"Yes."
"Then their ship has no owner."
The recovery commander pulled against Hijo's thread.
"It belongs to the Capability Exchange!"
The man looked toward her.
"Did you win?"
She became silent.
"No," he answered for her. "Then it does not."
Mira's expression sharpened.
"That is not how ownership works."
"It is how possession works."
"Those are different."
"Only when someone powerful enforces the difference."
Eullian watched him.
"You believe strength decides what belongs to people."
The man looked toward him again.
"Strength decides every answer eventually."
"No."
"Yes."
"What about truth?"
"Strength protects the accepted version."
"What about laws?"
"Strength punishes people who break them."
"What about food?"
"Strength controls the field, road, ship, market, or hand carrying it."
Analog's amber eyes became colder.
The man pointed toward the diner's first rule.
# **NO RANKS AT THE COUNTER.**
"You created a place where strength waits outside."
"Yes," Analog said.
"That requires enough strength to make everyone wait."
Analog did not answer.
The man nodded.
"You know."
A low horn sounded from the darkness.
Then another.
Another.
The notes spread across the Empty Route.
Not one ship.
Many.
Tallen ran to the open service wall.
He raised the strongest lens.
The night beyond the diner changed.
Lights appeared.
First ten.
Then fifty.
Hundreds.
They did not move randomly.
Rows formed across the sea.
Lanterns at identical heights.
Masts spaced evenly.
Ships arranged in expanding circles around one central absence.
Tallen's lens moved from left to right.
His mouth tightened.
Mira joined him.
"How many?"
"I cannot count them from one position."
"Estimate."
"More than seven hundred vessels."
The diner became quiet again.
The bare-chested man walked toward the open sea.
The lights continued appearing.
Cargo ships.
Converted fishing vessels.
Long troop carriers.
Wide barges covered in tents.
Medical vessels.
Water ships.
Training platforms.
Ships carrying ships.
None displayed heavy armor.
Few carried visible cannons.
Every mast flew the same flag.
A yellow field.
One black fist.
No weapon inside it.
No crown.
No skull.
A fist alone.
Mira looked toward the man.
"Power Fleet."
The surrounding customers reacted.
Not loudly.
Fear rarely began loudly.
A Marine captain lowered his cup.
Two pirates moved toward the rear exit.
The chained prisoner stopped breathing for a moment.
Analog did not look away from the man.
"Captain Power."
Power nodded.
"Yes."
Tallen adjusted his lens.
"How many people?"
A voice answered from the roof.
"Ten thousand five hundred."
A woman dropped from the diner's chimney.
She landed on the counter without disturbing one bowl.
Her hair had been shaved entirely from the left side of her head and grown to her waist on the right. Thin black numbers had been tattooed along both arms.
She wore a yellow vest over a white shirt.
No weapons.
A collection of signal flags rested across her back.
She looked toward Tallen.
"Not ten thousand four hundred ninety-nine."
Tallen raised his weapon.
She pointed toward it.
"You have four lenses, three loaded chambers, eleven bolts remaining, and one damaged release catch."
Tallen's eyes narrowed.
The woman smiled.
"I am **Commander Exact Sera**."
She pointed toward the lights.
"I count the fleet."
Something climbed over the outer roof behind her.
A man shaped like a barrel lowered himself into the diner.
His arms were short.
His chest was enormous.
His skin had been painted with thousands of small names.
He wore a cook's cloth around his head.
No weapon.
He carried a wooden table beneath one arm.
Six unconscious Capability Exchange collectors rested on it in a neat row.
He placed the table down.
"I am **Commander Carry Bole**."
He tapped the names painted across his chest.
"I move the fleet."
A third commander entered through the front door.
No dramatic landing.
No loud step.
He was narrow, elderly, and dressed in plain gray. His eyes were closed.
More than one hundred small bells hung from his clothes.
None rang while he moved.
He stopped beside Power.
"I am **Commander Quiet Toll**."
One bell moved.
Still no sound.
"I hear the fleet."
Eullian looked between them.
"Those introductions sound organized."
Exact Sera nodded.
"They have been rehearsed."
Power looked toward her.
"No."
"They have."
"I did not rehearse mine."
"You only say your name."
"It is efficient."
Carry Bole began collecting fallen diner furniture.
He lifted six tables at once and returned them to their places.
Quiet Toll tilted his head toward the sea.
"Three outer vessels have entered the wrong formation."
Exact Sera took one yellow flag from her back and moved it twice.
Three distant lights shifted.
The vast fleet corrected itself.
Not one commander carried a weapon.
Power did not need them to imitate him.
They had their own functions.
Sera counted and coordinated.
Bole moved supplies, ships, and people no ordinary equipment could carry.
Toll monitored thousands through sound, vibration, and silence.
Power stood at their center.
Not because he did everything.
Because everyone believed nothing could move him.
Mira opened the Open Ledger.
"Supreme Government bounty: nineteen million, seven hundred fifty thousand Coins."
Power nodded.
"Correct."
"You have never entered the Grand Sheet."
"Correct."
"Your fleet remains inside the four main seas and Empty Routes."
"Yes."
"Why maintain ten thousand five hundred people without entering the most famous route?"
Power looked toward the dark horizon.
"Because I am not ready."
Eullian blinked.
He had expected pride.
Not that.
Tallen lowered his weapon by a fraction.
"Your bounty exceeds nearly every active pirate in this region."
"Yes."
"You can cross miles of sea without a ship."
"Yes."
"You command the largest independent fleet in the East."
"Yes."
"And you say you are not ready?"
Power looked toward him.
"The Grand Sheet destroys people who confuse local greatness with world strength."
His tone contained no shame.
"No official record says I entered."
"Because you didn't," Mira said.
"Yes."
"Why would rumors claim otherwise?"
"People prefer brave failures to patient threats."
Eullian studied him.
Power possessed confidence.
Not the kind that required pretending he had never hesitated.
He knew his limits.
He simply believed he could remove them through greater power.
Analog rested both trays against the counter.
"What do you want from the diner?"
"Food."
"You have supply ships."
"We have ingredients."
"That is food."
"No. Ingredients become food through knowledge."
Analog's expression tightened.
Power continued.
"I want the Common Meal copied across every ship."
Eullian stepped between them.
"It isn't yours."
"No."
"You came with ten thousand five hundred people."
"Yes."
"To ask?"
"Yes."
Eullian looked toward the encircling fleet.
"That does not feel like asking."
Power considered.
"No."
The answer carried no apology.
Analog's fingers closed around the tray edges.
"How many copies?"
"Ten thousand five hundred."
"One for every person?"
"One for every person who may need to feed another."
Analog became still.
That number was larger than the entire reach of the Last Stop Diner.
More cooks.
More islands.
More routes.
More versions of the Common Meal.
His dream expanding faster than he could follow.
Mira saw the temptation.
"So what do you give in return?"
Power looked at Analog.
"Protection."
"No gratitude debt."
"Not gratitude."
"Then payment?"
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"Until the recipe no longer needs me."
Analog's eyes narrowed.
"That could become forever."
"Yes."
"Then no."
Power nodded.
"Good."
Eullian stared.
"You accept that?"
"No."
"That sounded like accepting."
"I accept that he said no."
Power looked toward the fleet.
"I will offer again after he sees what I am protecting them from."
Quiet Toll raised one finger.
A bell near his shoulder moved without ringing.
"Unknown vessel beneath the southern formation."
Exact Sera raised three flags.
Dozens of fleet ships opened a corridor.
The sea between them bulged.
A submarine-like Capability Exchange vessel broke the surface.
Its forward weapon began opening.
Power vanished from the diner.
The enormous structure shook from his departure.
He appeared above the hidden vessel.
No Devil Fruit.
No Devil Liquid.
No weapon.
Power fell with one fist beneath him.
The strike entered the vessel's reinforced bow.
Metal folded downward.
The sea split.
The entire craft disappeared beneath a circular wall of water.
A second later, Power rose carrying the submarine above his head.
It was longer than the **Civic Mercy**.
Water poured from its broken seams.
Collectors scrambled across the top.
Power jumped back toward the fleet.
He threw the vessel.
Not at another ship.
Into an empty space Exact Sera had created before he attacked.
Carry Bole leaped from the diner.
He caught the submarine against his enormous chest, rotated with its weight, and placed it across two waiting barges.
Quiet Toll listened.
"Forty-three alive inside."
Power landed beside Analog.
"Open it."
Hijo's threads appeared.
Power looked toward him.
"I was speaking to Bole."
Carry Bole pulled both sides of the submarine apart.
Metal opened like warm bread.
Forty-three collectors remained alive inside.
Some injured.
None crushed.
Power had destroyed the vessel without killing them.
Eullian's emotional attention sharpened.
"You protected the attackers."
Power looked at him.
"They lost."
"That doesn't answer me."
"They are no longer dangerous."
"That still doesn't answer."
Power considered the question.
"Killing them would not increase my power."
Eullian's expression changed.
Not compassion.
Calculation.
Power did not avoid unnecessary death because it was wrong.
He avoided it because it accomplished nothing.
A better result than cruelty.
A worse reason than mercy.
Tallen noticed too.
"Your fleet follows power, not loyalty."
Power faced him.
"Loyalty is a feeling."
"And power?"
"Evidence."
"What happens when someone stronger appears?"
"I follow them."
The answer silenced even Exact Sera.
Eullian looked at the fleet captain.
"You would give them your fleet?"
"If they can carry it."
"That is terrible."
"Why?"
"Because strength doesn't make someone good."
"No."
Power's eyes remained steady.
"It makes them responsible whether they are good or not."
Eullian stepped closer.
"You think responsibility belongs to whoever can force everyone else."
"Yes."
"That is Captain Garven's thinking."
"Garven used hostages because he lacked power."
"Chief Asia had power."
"He rented skill from a Devil Liquid."
"He nearly killed all of us without it."
"Then he was powerful."
"He killed for a piggy bank."
Power's expression did not change.
"That made him foolish."
"Still powerful."
"Yes."
"And Aldren?"
"Powerful."
"He doesn't fight."
"He controls what fighters need."
Eullian's hands tightened.
Power understood too much to dismiss the argument.
He simply reached a different answer.
The strongest person did not have to be physically strongest.
Whoever controlled the final result held power.
That was Power's morality.
Not good.
Not evil.
Hierarchy shaped into belief.
Mira turned to a blank Ledger page.
"Why are you here personally?"
Power looked toward Analog.
"The recipe."
"That requires one ship, not seven hundred."
Power looked toward Eullian.
"The second reason requires everyone."
Eullian stared back.
"What second reason?"
Power lifted one hand.
Exact Sera removed a sealed black tube from her flags.
She tossed it to him.
Power caught it and placed it on the counter.
Mira examined the seal.
Not Mercy Ledger.
Not Marine.
Not Capability Exchange.
A circle divided into four unequal pieces.
Tallen's expression sharpened.
"Meridian code."
Mira opened the tube.
Inside waited an old chart and a printed proclamation.
The paper had yellowed.
The ink had not faded.
Across the top appeared a date from twenty-two years earlier.
Beneath it was an image of one man standing on the bow of a narrow ship.
Hone E. Jim.
The Mythical Sailor.
He wore no crown.
No pirate hat.
No military coat.
Only a plain travel cloak and a smile that appeared too tired to belong to a legend.
Behind him, the sea rose into four separate walls.
East.
West.
North.
South.
In his hand rested an object hidden beneath white cloth.
Mira read aloud.
"'After one year and three months of recorded voyage, Hone E. Jim has reached the end beyond the Grand Sheet and recovered the True Piece.'"
Every customer in the diner knew the next words.
They spoke them quietly.
Even Analog.
Even the prisoners.
The legend had entered childhood before most people understood maps.
Mira continued.
"'The True Piece is the greatest peace this world has ever produced.'"
Eullian frowned immediately.
"What does that mean?"
No one answered.
Power did.
"It means the person who claims it gains the means to bring peace to the entire world."
"How?"
"Unknown."
"What is it?"
"Unknown."
"Where is it?"
"Unknown."
Eullian looked at the paper.
"That answer is terrible."
Power nodded.
"Yes."
"Everyone wants something nobody understands?"
"Yes."
"Because a man twenty-two years ago said it was peace?"
"He found it."
"According to who?"
"Records."
"Which records?"
"Supreme Government. Meridian. Independent witnesses. Jim's surviving crew."
"Where is he?"
"Gone."
"Dead?"
"Unknown."
"Where is his crew?"
"Most dead."
"How?"
"Different causes."
"Convenient."
Mira looked toward him.
Eullian's emotional intelligence had found the gap beneath the legend.
Everyone knew the conclusion.
Almost no one knew the people who had decided it was true.
Hone E. Jim found the True Piece in one year and three months.
At least, that was what the surviving records claimed.
One year and three months of what?
From where?
Following which route?
What had been removed from the official version?
The True Piece was called the greatest peace in the world.
By whom?
For whom?
At what cost?
Power placed one hand against the proclamation.
"Hone E. Jim was the strongest sailor in recorded history."
"Because he found it?"
"No."
"Then why?"
"Every force sent to stop him failed."
Power's calm deepened.
"Pirates. Marines. private fleets. governments. weather routes believed impossible. He crossed all of them."
"He killed them?"
"Some."
"Saved them?"
"Some."
"Why didn't he bring the peace back?"
"Unknown."
Eullian disliked that word more each time.
Power looked toward the surrounding fleet.
"My dream is to take the True Piece."
Analog's expression remained hard.
"And become the strongest sailor?"
"No."
Power faced Eullian.
"I must become the strongest before taking it."
"Why?"
"Because the greatest peace requires someone strong enough to prevent anyone from stealing it."
Eullian understood.
Power did not seek treasure for wealth.
Not fame.
Not freedom.
He wanted the True Piece because he believed peace was an object that had failed the world only because no one strong enough had held it permanently.
He would take it.
Guard it.
Enforce it.
Turn peace into a result no one else could challenge.
The mysterious island again.
Perfect peace.
No argument.
No uncertainty.
One answer made too strong to resist.
"That isn't my dream," Eullian said.
Power looked toward him.
"No."
"My dream isn't to find something called peace."
"No."
"I'm going to keep peace myself."
"Yes."
"Until I die."
"Yes."
Power did not mock him.
That made the disagreement heavier.
"You will die before completing it," Power said.
"Yes."
"Then the result depends upon whoever follows you."
"Yes."
"They may fail."
"Yes."
"The True Piece does not require your continued life."
"You don't know that."
"No."
"Then why act certain?"
"Because uncertainty does not reduce the need to act."
Eullian looked beyond him.
Seven hundred ships.
Ten thousand five hundred people.
Many stood along the rails now.
Former pirates.
Laborers.
Fighters.
Navigators.
Cooks.
Doctors.
Children.
People who had chosen Power because he had demonstrated that he could carry them farther than they could travel alone.
Some believed in his dream.
Some believed in food.
Some believed the fleet was safer than an island.
Some simply feared leaving.
Power did not need chains.
His strength created its own gravity.
Eullian looked at the True Piece proclamation again.
A world-sized promise built from an unknown object and a dead man's reputation.
Perhaps the True Piece was real.
Perhaps Hone E. Jim had found it.
Perhaps it truly could create the greatest peace in history.
Eullian still did not want it.
A peace given by an object could be taken.
A peace enforced by the strongest person could become a cage the moment they stopped listening.
Eullian's dream was harder.
Smaller in every place.
Larger in distance.
Peace made repeatedly by people who remained free enough to break it.
Power studied him.
"You do not want the True Piece."
"No."
"Then you are not my rival."
"No."
Eullian looked toward the ten thousand five hundred people.
"But you don't deserve it."
Every sound inside the diner stopped.
Exact Sera's eyes narrowed.
Carry Bole slowly lowered the table he was repairing.
Quiet Toll's bells moved.
This time, one rang.
A single tiny note.
Power remained still.
"Explain."
"You think being strongest means you should decide what peace is."
"Yes."
"That means everyone weaker gets your answer."
"Yes."
"Even if they hate it."
"Yes."
"Even if you're wrong."
"If someone proves me wrong through greater power, I follow them."
Eullian's face tightened.
"That is the problem."
Power waited.
"You don't care who is right."
Eullian lifted his functioning left hand.
"You care who can make everyone else stop arguing."
Analog watched him.
Mira held the Ledger tighter.
Hijo's threads rose.
Tallen's weapon shifted.
Runa smiled because the room had finally become simple enough for her.
Eullian pointed toward the fleet.
"They don't deserve the True Piece either."
Ten thousand five hundred people heard him through the open walls.
Some shouted.
Some laughed.
Some became angry.
Exact Sera raised two signal flags.
Every voice stopped.
Not slowly.
Instantly.
Power looked toward her.
"I did not order silence."
"You needed to hear."
"I heard."
Power looked back at Eullian.
"You have five people."
"Sometimes six."
Analog looked toward him.
"I have not joined."
"That is why I said sometimes."
Power looked around the diner.
"You have one damaged ship."
"Yes."
"One cannon."
"And twelve flower boxes."
Power paused.
"That is not relevant."
"Mira likes them."
"I tolerate them," Mira said.
Eullian continued.
"You have ten thousand five hundred people."
"Yes."
"That is too many."
"For what?"
"To all be wrong together."
Quiet Toll's bells moved.
Many rang now.
Soft sounds spread across his gray clothing.
"The fleet is unsettled," he said.
Exact Sera watched distant ships changing formation by inches.
"Four hundred twelve people are openly angry."
"Only?" Eullian asked.
"Three thousand nine hundred remain uncertain. The rest await Power's answer."
Power stepped closer.
The diner floor bent beneath him.
He did not raise a fist.
"I came for the Common Meal."
Analog lifted his trays.
"You were refused."
"I came for the route encoded inside Jim's proclamation."
Mira looked down at the chart.
Lines had been hidden beneath the printed text.
Tallen saw them when she tilted the page.
Power continued.
"The route begins beneath this diner."
Analog's expression changed.
He had known something was under the Last Stop.
Not that.
"The seven hulls," Mira said. "They were chained around a fixed location."
Analog looked toward the floor.
"The diner's original builder chose the site."
"Who?"
"I never met her."
Power pointed downward.
"One of Hone E. Jim's final navigational markers lies on the sea floor."
Eullian looked at Analog.
"You built a diner above the True Piece route?"
Analog's jaw tightened.
"Apparently."
"That seems important."
"I noticed."
Power looked toward the customers.
"Move them."
Analog did not.
"No."
"I need the marker."
"The diner is above it."
"Then move the diner."
"The hulls will separate."
"Then rebuild."
"People live here."
"Move them first."
"Where?"
Power pointed toward the fleet.
"My ships."
Analog looked across hundreds of yellow lights.
Protection offered by one overwhelming answer.
Exactly what he hated.
"No."
Power inhaled.
Not angrily.
Deeply.
The Last Stop Diner shifted toward him.
Bowls slid across counters.
Windows rattled.
The water beneath all seven hulls sank several inches from the pressure of his stance alone.
Hijo's threads filled the room.
Tallen unfolded his weapon.
Mira passed the proclamation to Eullian and opened the Ledger to a blank page.
Runa lowered herself until her head entered through the service wall.
Analog struck his serving trays together.
The remaining customers moved behind the kitchen.
Marines beside pirates.
Prisoners beside guards.
No ranks at the counter.
Outside, the Power Fleet began opening.
Rows of ships separated.
Troop bridges extended.
Ten thousand five hundred people moved toward the rails.
Not all fighters.
Enough.
Exact Sera raised six flags.
Carry Bole lifted the diner's broken outer support and placed it aside so he would not trip over it during battle.
Quiet Toll's hundred bells began ringing one by one.
He listened to the fleet prepare.
Power stood before Eullian without armor or weapons.
Only a body that had crossed miles of sea in one jump.
A bounty of **19.75 million Coins**.
A dream large enough to require the entire world's obedience.
Eullian's splinted fist could not close.
His left hand did.
Power looked at it.
"You are still recovering."
"Yes."
"You cannot defeat me."
"Maybe."
"You cannot defeat ten thousand five hundred."
"Not alone."
Eullian glanced toward his crew.
Hijo stood on his wounded leg.
Mira held the record of everything Power said.
Tallen aimed through four lenses.
Runa's shoulders filled the wall.
Analog remained at the counter of the diner he had built for people with nowhere else to stop.
He had not joined.
He had also not left.
Eullian looked toward Power.
"I don't want your treasure."
"It is not mine yet."
"Good."
"Why?"
Eullian smiled.
"Because you don't deserve it at all."
Power raised both hands.
Empty.
The Power Fleet moved.
The Peace Crew prepared.
Analog stepped between his diner and ten thousand five hundred hungry ambitions.
No cannon fired.
No fist moved.
Not yet.
The sea held one breath before discovering how much power it would take to move peace.
# **TO BE CONTINUED**