Chapter 41: The Flying Fortress

The brilliant, sparkling waters of Paradise were a welcome sight after the suffocating gloom of the Florian Triangle.

The Glacial-Inferno Sovereign let out a melodic, ringing neigh as it pulled our massive, floating caravan into the outer bays of Water 7.

The towering fountains of the city cascaded in the afternoon sun, a stark contrast to the gothic nightmare we had just left behind.

I brought the carriage to a gentle halt near a quiet, rocky outcrop just outside the main shipping lanes.

The Sovereign stood proudly on the flash-frozen water, a towering, majestic guard for our makeshift home.

Inside the cabin, Robin was resting comfortably against the velvet cushions.

Her color was returning, and the kinetic healing was doing its job, though she still didn’t have the physical strength for a long walk through the bustling city.

“I’m going to take the gold to Iceburg,” I told the crew.

“Robin, you stay here and rest.”

“I am not a nursemaid!” Perona complained loudly from the corner, crossing her arms and floating a few inches off the floor.

“I demand to go shopping!

I am a Princess!”

“You’re also currently unemployed and broke,” I pointed out dryly.

“Watch the carriage, Perona.

I’ll bring you back some cake from the upper tiers.”

Perona huffed, her cheeks puffing out.

“It better be strawberry.” Then she floated over to Robin’s bedside, shoving a fresh glass of water onto the nightstand.

“Drink this.

And don’t die while he’s gone, it’ll ruin the upholstery.”

Robin just offered a small, amused smile, taking the glass.

“I’m gonna go see the metal man!” Gammamon cheered, practically vibrating with excitement.

He threw the carriage door open and hopped out onto the ice.

“I want to show Zambai how strong I got!”

“Keep him out of trouble, Brook,” I chuckled, lifting a massive, heavy iron chest from the floorboards.

“I’ll meet you two at the scrap yard when I’m done.”

“Yohoho!

Leave it to me, Captain!” Brook tipped his top hat to the ladies and followed Gammamon toward the underbelly of the city.

I hoisted the chest onto my shoulder and made my way toward Dock 1.

Mayor Iceburg was sitting at his desk, surrounded by blueprints, when I walked into the administrative office.

He looked up, his eyes widening slightly as I effortlessly dropped the massive iron chest onto the floor.

The wood groaned under the sheer weight.

I kicked the latch open.

A blinding mountain of hoarded pirate gold, jewels, and ancient Berri coins spilled out onto the carpet.

Iceburg just stared at it, completely stunned.

Beside him, Tyrannosaurus the mouse squeaked in surprise.

“One billion Berries,” I smiled, sitting in the chair across from him.

“As promised.

How is the Adam Wood coming along?”

Iceburg slowly tore his eyes away from the treasure and looked at me.

He had read the news.

He knew what kind of chaos I brought with me.

He just didn’t expect me to actually produce the cash in less than three weeks.

“The timber has been secured,” Iceburg said, his voice returning to its professional, craftsman cadence.

“But carving Adam Wood isn’t like cutting standard oak.

It takes time, precision, and the full focus of my top foremen.

To build a carrier of the magnitude you requested…

it will take about six weeks.”

“Six weeks,” I nodded, mentally charting out a timeline.

“That works.

We have a few errands to run anyway.

I’ll be back in a month and a half to pick it up.”

Iceburg accepted the terms, officially marking my new carrier into the Galley-La production schedule.

While I was finalizing the paperwork in Dock 1, two figures were moving silently through the shadows of the outer bays.

Rob Lucci and Kaku crouched behind a stack of shipping crates, their eyes locked onto the massive, pontoon-sled carriage resting on the coastal ice.

Standing directly in front of it was the Glacial-Inferno Sovereign.

The jade unicorn’s sheer presence was terrifying, the air around it was so cold that the ocean waves were freezing before they even touched the shore.

“What kind of devil fruit is that?” Kaku whispered, his square nose twitching.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lucci replied coldly.

“Look at the window.”

Kaku pulled out a spyglass, carefully aiming it past the unicorn’s icy aura and directly into the reinforced glass of the carriage.

His breath hitched.

Resting comfortably inside, drinking a glass of water, was a woman with dark hair and striking blue eyes.

“The Demon Child,” Kaku breathed, lowering the spyglass.

“Nico Robin.

She’s supposed to be dead, or lost in the Triangle.”

“She’s with the Beastmaster,” Lucci stated, his eyes narrowing.

He pulled a small, specialized baby Den Den Mushi from his coat.

The snail’s face warped into the leather-masked visage of Spandam.

“What is it, Lucci?

Have you secured the Pluton blueprints?” Spandam’s voice was impatient.

“Negative,” Lucci reported.

“But we have a situation in the outer bays.

Nico Robin is in Water 7.

She is currently residing inside Victor D.

Costa’s personal carriage.”

The snail went dead silent.

Then, Spandam let out a high-pitched, hyperventilating shriek.

“THE BEASTMASTER?!

Are you out of your mind?!

Do you know what that maniac did to Vice Admiral Garp?!” Spandam screamed, absolute terror bleeding through the receiver.

“I don’t care about the Demon Child!

If you provoke him, he will atomize Water 7, and my promotion goes up in smoke!

DO NOT ENGAGE!

Do not even look at them!”

“Sir, she is an Alpha-priority target…”

“I gave you an order, Lucci!

Observe only!

I will handle this!” The line clicked dead.

Lucci crushed a piece of the wooden crate beneath his hand in sheer, unadulterated frustration.

The greatest assassins in the World Government, forced to sit like obedient dogs because they were completely outmatched.

Thousands of miles away in Enies Lobby, a panicked Spandam was already dialing an encrypted gold-plated Den Den Mushi.

It connected directly to Marineford.

“Commander-in-Chief Kong,” a deep, authoritative voice rumbled over the line.

“Sir!

It’s Spandam, Chief of CP9!” Spandam stammered, trying to sound tactical rather than terrified.

“I have critical intelligence!

Victor D.

Costa is in Water 7.

And he has Nico Robin with him!”

There was a heavy pause on the other end.

“The Beastmaster and the survivor of Ohara,” Kong mused, the gears of the highest military authority rapidly turning.

“You have CP9 on site.

Why haven’t you moved?”

“Sir, a direct confrontation inside the city could destroy the Galley-La shipyards!” Spandam lied smoothly.

“CP9 is embedded to find the Pluton blueprints.

We can’t risk losing the blueprints in the crossfire!

Costa commissioned a ship from the Mayor.

He will return in exactly six weeks to collect it.

According to agent Kalifa.”

“Six weeks,” Kong repeated.

“A unique convergence.

We can secure the ultimate weapon, capture the last scholar who can read the Poneglyphs, and eliminate the greatest rising threat to the World Government all in one stroke.”

“Exactly, sir!”

“Stand your ground, Spandam.

Keep CP9 hidden,” Kong ordered, his voice cold and absolute.

“I am authorizing a Buster Call-level strike force.

When Costa returns to that city in six weeks…

he will walk directly into an execution.”

I didn’t know the World Government had just painted a massive target on my back, and even if I did, I wouldn’t have cared.

I arrived at the scrap yards of the Franky House.

Gammamon was currently engaged in a chaotic game of tag with Zambai and the Square Sisters, while Brook was happily playing a fast-paced sea shanty on his violin for the crew.

I walked past the party and found Franky in his main workshop, wiping grease off his metallic forearms.

He looked up, his eyes immediately darting to the shadows, paranoid and on edge.

“Your pontoon-sled held up, bro,” Franky said, crossing his arms.

“It did.

You do good work,” I nodded.

I stepped closer, lowering my voice.

“But that’s not why I’m here.

I’m leaving the city for a few weeks.

What are you going to do about Tom’s blueprints?”

Franky instantly tensed, his metal fists clenching.

He glared at me, the trust we had built momentarily fraying.

“Why do you care?

You want the ancient weapon for yourself?”

I couldn’t help it.

I laughed.

“Franky, why the hell would I want a piece of paper?” I asked, leaning casually against the doorframe.

I lowered my voice to a whisper, dropping a piece of lore that shattered his entire worldview.

“I already know where the original Pluton is buried.

It’s sitting underneath the borders of Wano Country.”

Franky’s jaw literally dropped, his sunglasses sliding down his metal nose.

“SUPER…

WHAT?!”

“You heard me,” I smirked.

“I don’t need a blueprint.

I just don’t want to see Tom’s legacy used by the World Government to slaughter innocent people.

Keep it safe.”

Franky stared at me for a long, quiet moment.

He slowly pushed his sunglasses back up, the defensive posture completely melting away.

He let out a loud, booming laugh.

“You’re a crazy bastard, Victor,” Franky grinned.

He reached into his Hawaiian shirt and pulled out a small, wrapped parcel.

“Listen, since you’re heading out…

do me a solid?

Drop this off at the Shift Station just outside the city.

It’s for Granny Kokoro.”

“No problem,” I took the parcel, slipping it into my coat.

“See you in six weeks, Cutty Flam.”

We left Water 7 that same afternoon.

The Glacial-Inferno Sovereign pulled our caravan smoothly along the tracks of the Sea Train, making a brief stop at Shift Station.

I hopped off the carriage and handed the parcel to Granny Kokoro, a mermaid who drank entirely too much, and gave her energetic granddaughter, Chimney, a few Berri coins for sweets.

Kokoro gave me a knowing, drunken grin, wishing us a safe journey.

Back on the frozen road, the sun was beginning to set, casting a beautiful orange glow over the ocean.

We were gathered inside the warm, spacious cabin of the carriage.

Robin was sitting up, a blanket draped over her legs, looking healthier by the hour.

“Alright, crew,” I announced, leaning against the wooden wall.

“Iceburg needs six weeks to build our flying fortress.

Which means we have a month and a half to kill in Paradise.

Where does everyone want to go?”

The cabin instantly erupted into chaotic found-family energy.

“Little Garden!” Gammamon cheered, raising both of his stubby claws.

“You promised me there were giant dinosaurs there!

I want to fight a T-Rex!”

“A splendid idea!” Brook chimed in, raising a bony finger.

“Though, if we are backtracking, I would humbly request a stop at the Twin Cape Lighthouse.

There is an old friend, a rather large whale named Laboon, that I must check on.”

“Absolutely not!” Perona shrieked, floating upside down from the ceiling.

“I refuse to go to a sweaty jungle or a smelly lighthouse!

I’ve been living in a graveyard for years!

Take us to Kyuka Island!

It’s a premium vacation resort, and I demand a spa day!”

I chuckled, holding up a hand to calm the chaos.

I looked over at the bed.

“What about you, Robin?

Any requests before we vanish into the New World?”

Robin took a delicate sip of her tea, her blue eyes sparkling with a faint, dry amusement.

“Alabasta.”

The cabin went quiet.

“Alabasta?” I raised an eyebrow.

“The desert kingdom?”

“Yes,” Robin nodded calmly.

“I would like to hand my formal resignation to Sir Crocodile in person.

Despite his villainous tendencies and his complete lack of loyalty…

he was somewhat of a good boss.

It’s only polite.”

I stared at her for a second, absolutely loving her dark, deadpan sense of humor.

“Alright,” I grinned.

“Dinosaurs, whales, spas, and a Warlord.

We’ll hit them all.

But my mandatory stop comes first.”

I pulled out a sea chart, tapping a finger on a winter island covered in drum-shaped mountains.

“Drum Island,” I stated.

“It’s famous for its medical science.

I want a master physician to properly examine your dual-heart biology, Robin, just to make sure those SMILE factors are perfectly stabilized before we head up into the other islands.”

Robin looked down at her cup, a soft, genuine warmth spreading through her chest at the realization that her health was my top priority.

“Drum Island it is,” she agreed softly.

“Buckle up, everyone,” I grinned, looking out the window as the Sovereign picked up speed, charging across the ocean.

“It’s going to be a long road trip.”

Word Count: 2080

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