Of course, the real reason Yahn praised Robin wasn't just the small matter of her delicate touch—that was merely a trivial detail. What truly impressed him was her flawless ability to manage affairs and process intelligence.
It's a pity… Robin is still a little too young. Otherwise, she really would make an excellent secretary.
The thought stirred an image in Yahn's mind: Robin in the future, matured into a poised and intellectual woman, clad in a fitted suit.
Yes… that would look rather good.
By then, he could entrust more important matters to Robin, freeing himself to focus on things of greater consequence.
Meanwhile, Robin, her cheeks subtly flushed from the unexpected praise, noticed that Yahn seemed lost in thought. She tilted her head and asked softly:
"Brother Yahn, is there a flaw in the plan?"
"No. I was only thinking about the future."
Yahn quickly straightened his expression, his tone turning serious. "Robin, our warship will soon reach Naval Base 741. Head back to the castle for now."
"Alright."
Robin nodded and helped him sort the scattered files and reports in the cabin. Once everything was neatly organized, she returned to the castle to rest.
Yahn adjusted his white suit, draped the "Buddha's Cloak" over his shoulders once more, and stepped out toward the deck.
"Sir Yahn, we're about ten nautical miles from Naval Base 741," the ship's lieutenant reported.
Yahn gave a brief nod, instinctively extending his Observation Haki toward the base ahead.
"…Hm? That's not right. Why are there so many warships?"
His senses immediately picked up something abnormal.
Unlike the Grand Line's branch headquarters, naval bases in the four seas typically housed only one or two ships—enough to handle routine pirate suppression.
Yet from the direction of Base 741, Yahn clearly sensed twelve warships.
"Increase speed. Maintain full alert."
His eyes narrowed as he gave the order.
"Yes, sir!"
The warship surged forward, racing toward Base 741.
---
At that same moment, inside Base 741, nearly ten base commanders had gathered for a meeting.
The host commander of 741 spoke first:
"Our mission is simple: blockade the coast of 'White City' Flevance to prevent its infected citizens from escaping by sea."
"It shouldn't be difficult," another commander from Base 472, younger than the rest, replied with some hesitation. "Flevance's coastline isn't long. With twelve ships, we can easily seal it off. But… if civilians try to break through, and we can't confirm whether they carry the disease, what should we do? Our soldiers can't risk direct contact."
A man in a black suit, a representative of the World Government sitting in silence until now, finally spoke with chilling calm:
"Shoot them on sight."
The room fell silent. Shock rippled across the faces of the gathered commanders.
The 472 commander immediately protested: "Sir, they are only sick civilians. Shooting them outright cannot be considered justice."
The official's voice grew colder, harsher:
"This is the World Government's order. Until we know how dangerous this disease truly is, no one from Flevance may be allowed to leave. Anyone who resists is to be executed immediately."
He paused, his gaze sweeping the room. "Do you object? Or are you suggesting you'd defy the World Government's command?"
Silence. None of the commanders dared respond. They were only captains, after all, far beneath the authority of the World Government.
"Bang!"
Suddenly, the meeting room's doors swung open with a crash.
"I have an objection."
A clear, confident voice echoed across the hall.
The official's smile froze on his lips, his expression darkening as everyone turned.
Yahn strode in, cloak billowing behind him, his gaze steady as he met the eyes of every commander and the World Government envoy.
The official snapped angrily: "And who are you? What right do you have to oppose me?"
Yahn's eyes swept across the commanders before he spoke.
"North Sea Inspectorate, Trafymore Yahn."
At once, sweat beaded on the foreheads of the assembled commanders.
Over the past six years, countless base leaders had been imprisoned thanks to the Inspectorate. Some of the very men sitting here owed their positions to those purges. And more importantly—rumor held that the Inspector was the son of the Fleet Admiral himself.
A double authority. No wonder they feared him.
Yahn continued firmly:
"Executing civilians in this manner is utterly against the Navy's justice. As Inspector of the North Sea, I cannot allow it."
The envoy, newly arrived from Mary Geoise and ignorant of this position's power, was utterly unmoved. Being repeatedly contradicted by a mere Lieutenant only worsened his fury.
He jabbed a finger at Yahn and barked at the commanders: "Arrest this insolent fool at once!"
But not a single commander moved. They all remained seated, still as statues.
"Did you not hear me? I said, arrest him!" the envoy shouted again, his face flushing with anger.
Again—silence.
His composure cracking, the official bellowed: "So you dare defy the World Government itself? Fine! I'll take this to your superiors!"
Yahn chuckled lightly, tapping the table before him.
"In the entire North Sea Navy, I hold the highest authority. If you believe their conduct improper, sir, you may file your complaint with me."