The throne room of Alubarna was quiet in the way only a place like the place during siege could be.
King Cobra sat upright upon the sandstone dais, his back straight despite the tension weighing heavily on his shoulders. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered though no longer young, his long dark hair streaked faintly with grey and tied neatly behind him. His face bore the lines of decades spent ruling not through fear, but through compromise, patience, and the constant balancing of a kingdom that survived by water and trust more than swords. The cobra-shaped sigil of Alabasta gleamed faintly on the wall behind him, a reminder of both pride and duty.
And today, that duty felt heavier than ever.
One after another, his aides spoke—voices overlapping, arguments spilling into the open like sand through broken fingers.
"Your Majesty, reports from the eastern coast—"
"—the port of Nanohana is under direct assault—"
"—pirate ships, dozens of them—"
Cobra raised a hand, and the room slowly fell silent.
Pell stepped forward, his falcon helm tucked beneath his arm. As Head Guard, his posture was rigid, his voice sharp with restrained fury. "At dawn, a cluster of ships was sighted off Nanohana's coast. All of them flew the same Jolly Roger. Before the harbor defenses could fully mobilize, the pirates opened fire."
Cobra's fingers tightened against the armrest.
"Without warning?" he asked.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Pell replied grimly. "The coastal batteries were destroyed first. By the time the alarm spread through the city, the port was already in chaos."
Igarram, captain of the Royal Guard, slammed his fist lightly against his chest in frustration. "The ships docked openly. They introduced themselves as part of the Carragher Pirates Group."
That name drew a sharp breath from several in the chamber.
"Jamie Carragher," Chaka said quietly, his deep voice cutting through the murmurs. As head of the palace guard, he rarely spoke without thought. "Bounty: two hundred and thirty million berries."
Cobra closed his eyes for a moment.
Carragher.
A man who should not have been anywhere near Paradise.
Far away, aboard the largest ship of the invading fleet, Jamie Carragher lounged upon a grotesque mockery of a throne—crafted hastily from plundered wood and gilded debris. His massive frame was wrapped in heavy bandages, burn scars crawling across his exposed skin like ugly reminders of failure. Every breath sent dull pain through his ribs.
Kaido.
The thought alone made his teeth grind.
He had gone to the New World with ambition, with numbers, with arrogance. And he had been crushed—his fleet scattered, his strength proven meaningless before the so-called strongest creature in the seas. Barely escaping with his life, he had fled back to Paradise, wounded pride burning hotter than any scar.
Arabasta was perfect.
A rich kingdom. A strategic port. A place to rebuild.
"Let them run wild," Carragher muttered, watching his men swarm Nanohana like ants over sugar. "Fear is good for morale."
Back in Alubarna, the room had grown heated.
"The pirates already present in Nanohana are either joining Carragher or fighting him," Pell continued. "But both sides are pillaging. The city is burning."
Igarram turned sharply. "We cannot hesitate. People are dying."
"We must mobilize the army," Pell insisted. "This is exactly why we maintain six hundred thousand soldiers."
"And march straight into a trap?" Igarram snapped back. "Carragher commands a fleet. Charging blindly will cost lives."
Cobra rubbed his forehead, exhaustion pressing into his temples. "What of the World Government?"
A bitter edge crept into Pell's voice. "We should not involve them."
The room stiffened.
"This is a pirate attack," Pell continued. "If we call upon the World Government every time pirates strike, what message does that send? That Alabasta cannot protect its own people?"
Igarram's eyes flared. "Tell that to the dead! To the families fleeing Nanohana right now!"
The argument escalated, voices rising, anger spilling free.
Cobra raised his voice, "Enough."
Silence returned, heavy and absolute.
He turned his gaze to Chaka. "What do you propose?"
Chaka took his time. When he spoke, his words were measured. "We use our army. Pell is right—we cannot show weakness. But we must be precise. Stabilize nearby cities first. Cut off Carragher's escape routes. Then retake Nanohana."
Cobra nodded slowly. "Do it."
Chaka bowed and departed.
Igarram lingered. "What of the refugees? The panic?"
"Disperse them to safer cities," Cobra said. "And block news from Nanohana. Panic will only spread."
Igarram hesitated, displeased, but bowed and followed.
Left alone, Cobra slumped back into his throne.
"Why now," he whispered. "Why now… when my wife is so close to giving birth?"
Far from the palace, Jack Sparrow woke with a sharp yelp.
He bolted upright, instantly regretting it as pain flared through his arm. He groaned, blinking rapidly. The ceiling above him was low, made of rough wood. The bed beneath him was stiff, itchy, and deeply unwelcoming.
"A five-star experience," he muttered.
His sword rested nearby. His compass lay beside it.
Relief washed through him.
"Augur," Jack breathed. "Right… Augur came."
He forced himself up, ignoring the stinging ache in his arm, and staggered outside.
The sunlight hit him like a hammer.
Sand. Heat. Stillness.
The village seemed empty.
Jack squinted. "That's… unsettling."
Then he heard it.
A boom in the distance.
His eyes narrowed.
"That," he said grimly, "is definitely trouble."
He jogged toward the sound, favoring his injured arm.
SHORTLY BEFORE JACK WOKE UP:
Crocodile awoke with a scowl.
She realized two things immediately.
First: she was alive.
Second: someone had been lying far too close to her.
She disentangled herself sharply, pain flaring through her ribs as she pushed herself upright. Bandages—poorly done—wrapped her torso, already darkening with blood.
"…Idiot," she muttered, unsure whether she meant herself or the man who was sleeping beside her.
She stepped outside—and froze.
A long rifle was aimed directly at her chest.
Van Augur's voice was calm, flat. "Don't move."
Crocodile's eyes flicked up slowly, unimpressed. "You must be one of that man's crewmates."
"And you must be the one my captain carried through the desert," Augur replied.
That gave her pause.
"…Carried?"
Before either could say more, Crocodile's temper flared. Sand rippled beneath her feet as she lashed out.
The shot rang out.
The bullet passed through her shoulder harmlessly, scattering into grains. She countered instantly, sending a blade of sand screaming toward him.
Augur was gone.
She snarled.
Another one.