"Robbery?"
"Purchase?"
Newgate rubbed his stubbled chin, deep in thought.
"Eh... it's probably one of those two options."
Across from him, Argus sat with arms crossed, brow twitching. What had started as a logistical meeting about concubine candidates had spiraled into absurdity.
His original plan had been simple: Widen the net. Gather more concubines. Produce more high-grade children. Efficient. Clinical. Strategic.
But Newgate had taken a hard left turn into royal obsession.
Why? Only the Sea Gods knew.
The man had clearly spent too much time "researching"… probably in a tavern littered with bounty posters and rum.
"Non-affiliated kingdoms first," Newgate muttered, half to himself. "Snatch a royal daughter or two. Or hit up the black market—always a noble or two floating around the auctions…"
"Brother."
"Hm?"
Argus glared at him.
"What?"
"Shouldn't we be thinking about—oh, I don't know—raising our current children in peace?"
"Exactly!" Newgate snapped his fingers. "That's what I'm saying!"
Argus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Wait. Hold on. You're suggesting we find a peaceful island for Serena, Sally, and Shella to rest until the babies are born?"
"That's the idea!"
"Let me guess... You're not talking about going back to Sphinx Island, are you?"
"Hell no!" Newgate immediately waved off the notion. "Place is a goddamn warzone now. Word got out we were from there. Now every idiot pirate with something to prove thinks it's fair game. No way I'm letting my sisters-in-law and future nieces and nephews get caught in that mess!"
His voice was dead serious now. The mirth evaporated.
"They need peace. Real peace. Not just quiet seas—but safety. Somewhere they can live… even just for a few months… without fear."
Argus blinked.
This wasn't some drunken tangent. Newgate was genuinely worried.
And he wasn't wrong.
Out here—especially in the New World—every sunrise was a gamble.
"A base... a sanctuary," Argus murmured. "A place to lay low. Somewhere no one would dare touch them."
"You got a place in mind?" Newgate asked.
"Nope. That's the damn problem."
"Four Blues, maybe? Or the first half of the Grand Line?"
"Too much exposure. We become a liability magnet. People start connecting dots. Next thing you know, every bounty hunter from here to Drum Island is sniffing around."
"Right…, Like They could Do anything!"
"It's Not Them. It's The World Government, and It's Cronies."
They fell into silence. Cold, heavy silence.
"…What if we just took an island?" Newgate muttered.
"…What?"
"Find a small, non-aligned island. Drive out whoever's there. Claim it. Raise our flag. Boom—instant base."
Argus shook his head. "That paints a target on our backs. That doesn't keep Serena safe—it drags her into a war zone."
Newgate growled. "Is it really this hard to find one quiet f***ing corner of the world?!"
"Yes. In the New World? It's a goddamn myth."
As, they Continued into the spiral.
Below The Deck
Sally carried a rolled-up scroll in her arms.
And, said to Serena , Husband & Big Brother has been bickering for hours, about Island.
She unfurled the parchment. "I asked some of the merchant contacts and smuggler routes. These islands might work: Caldera's Nest—rich soil, low population, mostly herbalists. North Haven—quiet, misty, but unstable tectonic activity. Eros Isle—beautiful, but known for unpredictable love-lust spores. And Angel's Drift—abandoned sky island fragment. Isolated, but... too isolated."
She looked to Serena, who had followed in, arms folded.
Serena shook her head. "Caldera's Nest? Prone to disease. North Haven's earthquakes would cause stress. Eros Isle? You want pregnant women inhaling aphrodisiac pollen? And Angel's Drift has no sustainable food supply."
Sally sighed. "Knew you'd say that."
Shella entered quietly behind them, drying sweat from training.
"I can't help much," she admitted, touching her belly gently. "The Fishman Island's our only sanctuary, and even it's watched. But…"
She glanced to Serena.
"If we raise and tame a pod of Sea Kings... not for war, but transport. A moving base, hidden in the Calm Belt, maybe?"
Serena blinked. "A... floating fortress, hidden in the teeth of the sea?"
"Exactly," Shella said. "It's not perfect. But it's something no one would expect."
"I'll bring it up to Argus and Newgate," Serena murmured. "It might be insane... but it's bold. And bold is our only chance."
Outside, the crew whispered among themselves.
The servants and junior officers weren't fools. They'd seen Serena poring over maps. They watched Sally barter with smugglers and Shella adjust training to protect her unborn. They heard snippets—Sea Kings, islands, strategy.
The talk of war faded into talk of legacy.
They weren't just building a crew anymore.
They were building a future.
Back inside, Newgate downed the rest of the sake and growled, "Gurararara~~~! Screw it. Let's hit the black market again. Your pregnancy rate's off the charts—might as well prep a second batch of concubines!"
He grinned wickedly. "We'll get you a few princesses. A few rarebloods. Hell, maybe a Lunarian if we're lucky!"
Argus groaned, "Brother... could you not treat this like shopping for livestock?"
"Too late!" Newgate roared with laughter. "GURARARARARA~~~!"
----
(CHAPTER END)