Knock knock~
The sharp, sudden sound echoed through Raleigh's office, interrupting a perfectly good stretch.
"Come in," Raleigh called out, his voice lazy.
He leaned back in his chair, feet propped up on his desk, wondering who would bother him at this hour.
It was prime "slacking-off" time.
The door opened, and a nervous-looking messenger from Borsalino's side entered.
He snapped to attention, saluting stiffly.
"Rear Admiral Raleigh, Vice Admiral Borsalino needs to speak with you."
Raleigh raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised.
He slowly lowered his feet to the floor. "Oh? What does my dear brother need?"
This was... weird.
Borsalino never sought him out.
Raleigh seldom approached him, either.
They had an unspoken agreement: you stay in your office and nap, I'll stay in mine and slack off.
For Borsalino to summon him, something must be up.
A flash of paranoia hit him.
The matters he was about to undertake—namely, using Doflamingo to handle a World Government problem while also messing with CP9—were definitely... let's say, anti-World Government.
Could this be about that? Had that lazy oaf somehow caught on?
With a puzzled mind, he stood, straightened his uniform just enough to look vaguely professional, and followed the messenger.
When he entered Borsalino's office, he knew this was serious.
First, his brother was actually sitting upright.
Second, Borsalino was wearing an unusually serious expression—a rare and deeply unsettling sight.
It was his "I'm-forced-to-do-my-job-and-it's-very-troublesome" face.
Third, and most importantly, there were several other men in the office.
They were not Marines.
They wore dark, formal suits that looked stuffy and out of place, and they all had the pale, pinched look of career paper-pushers.
Officials from the World Government.
The solemn atmosphere, thick with the smell of cheap cologne and nervous sweat, made Raleigh shed his casual demeanor.
He snapped a crisp salute.
"Vice Admiral Borsalino, you needed to see me?"
In front of outsiders, Raleigh always maintained his elder brother's dignity.
Borsalino nodded, his movements agonizingly slow.
"Oooooh, Raleigh. It's not me who needs you... but these... distinguished... officials from the World Government."
"The World Government?"
Upon hearing this, Raleigh's mind raced.
'Okay, here we go. Is it about the King's Guard massacre? Did Kazuki talk? Is it about Doflamingo? Did I push too hard?' But he quickly dismissed the panic.
As Deputy commander of the North Blue Marines, with his brother as the top boss, there shouldn't be any immediate issues.
These guys looked nervous, not accusatory.
He remembered a key piece of advice from his previous life: when you're an expert (or pretending to be one) and you don't know what's going on, you must wait for the other party to speak first.
So, Raleigh remained silent, his face a perfect mask of neutral professionalism.
He stood at ease, waiting.
The World Government officials also stayed quiet, shuffling their feet.
The only sound in the room was Borsalino, who had picked up a teacup and was obnoxiously blowing on the hot drink.
Fwoooooo... Slurrrrp. Silence. Fwooooo...
One official coughed.
Slurrrrrp.
This went on for what felt like an eternity, but was probably only ten minutes.
Finally, the officials couldn't take the pressure.
The fat one, who seemed to be in charge, broke the silence.
"Greetings, Rear Admiral Raleigh," he said, his voice a bit too high. "We are... ah... department officials from the World Government. We've come seeking your assistance regarding a... special situation."
Hearing this, a massive weight lifted from Raleigh's heart.
'Phew. They need help.'
It seemed the World Government needed a "Marines expert" for some matter.
This meant it wasn't related to his previous... creative solutions.
His paranoia faded, replaced by his usual irritation at being asked to do actual work.
"Well, first tell me what this is about," Raleigh said, his casual tone returning.
He had no desire to get entangled in the World Government's messy affairs.
His mind was completely focused on his own plans.
The fat official glanced at Borsalino—who was now intensely studying his teacup—before adjusting his own glasses.
"Rear Admiral Raleigh, our intelligence personnel in the Eryoku Kingdom have relayed information. It suggests... ah... that someone there is quietly preparing an uprising."
"The Kingdom of Eryoku," the official continued, gaining a bit of bureaucratic steam, "is a very important affiliated nation in the North Blue. Their coal resources and iron ore processing industry account for a significant proportion worldwide."
He leaned in, lowering his voice.
"If a commoner uprising leads to the interruption of those resources, it would... greatly... dissatisfy the nobility. We hope the Marines can dispatch a far-sighted and meticulous leader to crush them completely before the uprising erupts."
Raleigh tapped his fingers restlessly on his thigh.
So, it was because of this matter.
The Eryoku Kingdom.
He had indeed heard of it. Back when he was in the East Blue, he had purchased a batch of high-quality Fine Iron from a merchant convoy.
The merchants had proudly claimed it was from Eryoku, boasting about its excellent quality.
He'd even made a mental note to procure more after arriving in the North Blue, but other tasks had piled up, and he'd forgotten.
He turned and walked over to the massive Naval Deployment Chart that covered the far wall, his fingers tracing the sea routes.
"Hmm, so it's here."
In a very remote, tucked-away sea area, Raleigh located the island.
He stroked his chin, carefully examining the naval deployment symbols.
Suddenly, he broke the silent atmosphere in the room.
"If this deployment chart hasn't changed," he said, tapping the map, "there are four Marine branches and one super-large naval base in this sector. Theoretically, that should be more than enough to suppress any uprising."
He wasn't wrong.
Four branches plus a major base, all dealing with what he assumed were unarmed commoners who didn't even have proper weapons... Raleigh just didn't see the difficulty.
He had heard the King's Guard was responsible for internal defense there.
Even if the miners somehow overthrew the Guard and seized their firearms, he didn't think it would make much difference against that much concentrated Marine power.
The World Government officials' expressions turned grim.
The air got ten times more awkward.
The fat official's forehead was now openly dripping sweat.
He subtly, but viciously, kicked the thin official standing beside him.
Startled by the kick, the thin official flinched and let out a small squeak.
With a troubled, pained look, he stammered, "Th-that's the situation, Rear Admiral Raleigh! Although the naval forces there are sufficient... according to intelligence from our agents... this one... this one might be even more terrifying than the last!"
"The previous uprising," the thin man whispered, "involved over a hundred thousand participants. This one... it could be larger. Moreover, their leader... their leader is rumored to possess Devil Fruit powers! You know how difficult it is for us... ah... to stop an Ability User with our current capabilities!" He then, foolishly, blurted out the real reason.
"Furthermore, the nobility won't tolerate a major uprising during our tenure! It would... it would affect our evaluation by the higher-ups!"
Raleigh had to physically stop himself from smiling.
Ah. There it was.
It wasn't a military problem. It was a career problem.
These guys were worried their political careers would end, so they specifically came to find a "top expert" from the Marines.
Currently, the only publicly recognized top experts in the North Blue Marine were him and Borsalino.
Gion and Tokikake were just temporary assignments.
This matter was definitely brought to Borsalino first.
And that lazy bastard definitely said something like,
'Ooooooh, a Devil Fruit user? How terrifying... You need a meticulous leader for that... You should talk to my brother, Raleigh. He's very far-sighted.'
And then he'd pawned it off.
Sigh.
With just this one old buddy, sometimes you have to shoulder what needs to be shouldered. ...But as for benefits...
Raleigh's posture sagged.
He let out a deep, troubled sigh, and his face took on an expression of profound, weary worry.
He looked like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"I'd like to help you, gentlemen. I truly would," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "But... I'm currently facing some troubles of my own. Very troublesome matters, I'm afraid."
Upon hearing this, Borsalino—who had been watching the exchange out of the corner of his eye—immediately and slowly swiveled his large office chair around.
Squeeeeeeeeeak.
He was now facing the wall, his back completely turned to Raleigh and the World Government officials.
Being shrewd, how could he not understand his younger brother? Just from that one sentence, he knew.
The kid was planning to extort these paper-pushers.
Borsalino happily picked up his cup of warm goji berry water.
He sighed inwardly, 'This kid... he really is someone who plucks feathers from a passing goose. The only question is how much he can squeeze out this time.'
The thin World Government official, hearing Raleigh's "troubles," immediately panicked and spoke up.
"Rear Admiral Raleigh, if there's anything, just say it! We'll handle it for you! Anything!"
THWACK.
The fat official kicked him under the table, hard, while giving him an angry "shut-your-mouth" look.
The thin official quickly shrunk his neck, pretending nothing had happened.
Seeing no other way, the fat official had to brace himself.
He forced a smile, which looked more like a grimace.
"Ah... Raleigh, you can tell us what's on your mind. We... we will do our best to handle it perfectly." He added, quickly, "But, our positions are, ah, quite low, and our influence is... limited. We hope you can understand. Our apologies."
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