Bikashi Island.
It was the largest of the twenty-seven islands under the jurisdiction of the Kingdom of Echemondo, and the seat of the nation's capital, Arabica.
Echemondo was known far and wide as the "Kingdom of Coffee." The beans harvested from Bikashi Island alone supplied a tenth of the demand across the entire Grand Line. Collectively, the kingdom's twenty-seven islands accounted for nearly a quarter of the global coffee market.
Arabica, the capital, bore the prestigious moniker "The City of Coffee."
On the hills directly north of this aromatic metropolis sat the royal palace. Constructed from gleaming white marble, it remained ablaze with light even deep into the night. Its glow was so intense it turned the hillside into a second sun, competing with the brilliance of the full moon hanging in the sky.
To the common citizens, the palace was likely a den of debauchery, filled with wine, music, and the decadent revelry of the nobility. The reality, however, was far grimmer. A suffocating, terrifying pressure hung over the halls.
Maids huddled like frightened quails against the corridor walls, barely daring to draw breath for fear of attracting the notice of the King, who was currently locked in a state of volcanic fury within his study.
That was until the sound of footsteps—brisk, rhythmic, and unshakably steady—echoed from the far end of the hall.
The oppressive atmosphere seemed to ripple and soften at the sound.
"Prince Elus."
The Head Maid hurried forward to greet the man approaching with long, confident strides.
His short, dark hair was neatly styled, framing a face of such flawless symmetry that it bordered on the divine. His eyes, a piercing emerald green, were as clear and deep as the finest jade. Standing at two hundred and five centimeters, he wasn't a "giant" by the standards of this world, but he possessed an imposing, regal stature.
Soccachio Elus.
The First Crown Prince of Echemondo, Vice-Commander of the Royal Guard, and the Kingdom's Vice-Minister of Foreign Affairs.
As the Prince came into view, the trembling servants let out a collective sigh of relief. Known as the most compassionate member of the Soccachio bloodline, Elus was regarded by the palace staff as a living panacea for the King's temper.
There were others capable of soothing the King's rage, of course—the Queen, the high ministers, or even the seven-year-old second prince and the young princess. But none of them particularly cared for the lives of the servants. To the rest of the royalty, if a few servants' heads were required to pave a path toward the King's good graces, it was a price worth paying.
In a den of wolves, the lamb is king. Against such a callous backdrop, Elus was naturally viewed as a savior by the common folk.
"Gale, didn't I tell you? When Father is in a foul mood, stay clear. Go find Mother or one of the ministers instead."
Elus slowed his pace, glancing at the bowing Head Maid. A dark, fresh bruise marred her forehead—clearly the result of a heavy object being thrown with force. It had happened less than an hour ago.
"Abandoning one's post is not permitted," Gale replied stubbornly.
She adhered strictly to the Maid's Code of Conduct, a set of rules rumored to have been passed down through generations of the Soccachio family. Elus didn't know if the rules were truly that ancient, but the yellowed, brittle parchment they were written on was certainly over two centuries old—an antique in its own right.
"Go find a doctor and get some ointment on that. That is an order."
With that, Elus quickened his pace and pushed open the heavy, closed doors of the study.
The moment the doors parted, a cloud of thick, white smoke billowed out.
"Excessive smoking is bad for the health. You aren't a Smoke-Smoke Fruit user, so stop ravaging your lungs."
Elus walked to the windows and threw them wide. The cold sea breeze surged into the room, quickly dispersing the stagnant haze.
"El, you're back."
The man sitting behind the desk coughed twice, clipping his half-burnt cigar. As he looked at Elus—whose features were a seventy-percent match to his own—a thin smile touched his lips. The murderous chill that had been radiating from him was forcibly suppressed, replaced by a flicker of genuine warmth in his emerald eyes.
As the sixth sovereign of the Echemondo Kingdom, Soccachio Bovill considered his greatest achievement in life to be fathering a son who was a hundred times more capable than himself.
"Any word on the Whitebeard Pirates?"
"Gio, the Captain of the Second Division—known as 'Pale Horn'—is likely near death. An incurable illness; he's in the terminal stages. Furthermore, Whitebeard's own health isn't looking great. Marco the Phoenix, the First Division Captain, isn't on the Moby Dick—rumor has it he's searching for rare medicinal ingredients. Currently, the fleet's affairs are being managed by 'Diamond' Jozu of the Third Division and 'Flower Sword' Vista of the Fifth..."
Elus had recently returned from a diplomatic mission to the Whitebeard Pirates to pay the "protection fee" required to fly their flag.
As a nation that had held its ground in the New World for over two hundred years, Echemondo certainly possessed its own military might.
However, a saying had recently begun to circulate through the New World: "The New World belongs to the Four Emperors." No one knew where the phrase originated, but within a short time, it had become a self-evident truth accepted by every power player in the sea.
It was undeniable.
In this era, the New World was the playground of the Yonko.
To survive in these waters, one needed the aegis of an Emperor. While Echemondo didn't fear the common pirates with bounties in the hundreds of millions—the kingdom's army was more than enough to crush those arrogant upstarts—the Four Emperors were a different matter entirely.
Facing the sovereigns of the sea, the Kingdom of Echemondo was forced to bow its proud head and choose a master to serve.
Only by becoming a vassal to an Emperor could a nation minimize the risk of being targeted by the others. In the New World, the only thing that could restrain a Yonko was another Yonko. Even the gargantuan institution of the Marines was currently unable to contest the Emperors for dominance in these seas.
The four pirate sovereigns:
Whitebeard, Kaido of the Beasts, Red-Haired Shanks, and Big Mom.
Big Mom—Charlotte Linlin—had been the first to be crossed off the list. As the only female Emperor, she had birthed an entire pirate crew herself. She trusted only her original crew and her children; outside vassals were treated as little more than tools with zero status. Beyond that, there was always the terrifying risk of being selected by her to become a husband—a fate worse than death.
Next was Kaido of the Beasts. The suicidal maniac who cherished talent and obsessed over building an army of Zoan-type fruit users wasn't a terrible choice on paper. If you were strong enough, you could earn a place of respect in the Beast Pirates.
Unfortunately, when Echemondo first went looking for a protector, Kaido was busy in the Wano Country with some unknown agenda and had not yet ascended to the throne of an Emperor. At the time, the sea only recognized two: Whitebeard and Big Mom. As for Red-Hair, his rise was too recent; he wasn't even an option then.
The final choice had been obvious.
The flag of the Whitebeard Pirates now flew high over Echemondo's ports, announcing to the world that this was Whitebeard's territory.
"Whitebeard is getting old, too," Bovill sighed softly.
He was forty-three this year, in the prime of his life. He had personally witnessed and heard the tales of the "Devil-Slayer" Whitebeard carving a path through the meat grinder of the New World, becoming the first to claim the title of Emperor—a mountain of a man who pressed down upon the hearts of everyone in the world.
And yet, even a man that formidable could not withstand the erosion of time.
"What's the story with the Kingdom of Amento's declaration of war? Has the Nebli family gone mad?" Elus pulled up a chair and sat by the desk, unceremoniously flipping through the scattered documents and letters.
The Kingdom of Amento was a neighbor to Echemondo and also a vassal under Whitebeard's protection. The Nebli family was its royalty. While there had always been friction between the two nations, it had never escalated to open conflict.
Yet, Amento had done exactly that—unilaterally declaring war and opening fire on Echemondo's borders.
Elus, who had been making a leisurely journey home, had been forced to double his pace to rush back.
"It's Umit. He's set his sights on our coffee plantations," Bovill said bluntly.
"Umit... 'Deep Current,' the Shipping King?" Elus looked down at the document in his hand. It was the formal declaration of war from Amento. The wording was absolute, leaving no room for negotiation or ceasefire. It was a declaration of total annihilation. "Looking at this, it seems the Nebli family has fallen under Umit's thumb?"
"A month ago, our informants inside the Nebli household went dark. Shortly before that, the Neblis recruited a group of 'reformed' pirates. I suspect the rot started there," Bovill said, his emerald eyes flashing with renewed murderous intent.
Recruiting pirates wasn't unusual in the New World.
This sea was the end of the Great Line, the final destination for all pirates—and the graveyard for most. These waters were a nightmare for the naive. Countless hot-blooded rookies had their dreams shattered against the cold reality of the New World.
Many grew weary of the wandering life but couldn't return home due to their high bounties. Their only choice was to find a way to crawl along in this land of chaos. Thus, swearing fealty to local powers became their best option.
As for why they didn't join the Emperors directly? The reasons were complex. Some preferred to be the "head of a chicken than the tail of a phoenix"; others weren't strong enough to be noticed by the Yonko; some did it out of gratitude... the list went on.
In this instance, the Nebli family had been unfortunate enough to be outplayed by the Shipping King, Umit.
"I suppose the protection fee we pay Whitebeard is finally proving its worth," Elus remarked thoughtfully, tossing the declaration back onto the desk.
"The New World belongs to the Four Emperors... those aren't just empty words. Even the titans of the Underworld must bow their massive heads before a Yonko," Bovill said, imparting a life lesson to his eldest son.
"Years ago, when the Old Man told me to go buy a flag from Whitebeard, there were only two Emperors—Whitebeard and Big Mom. Kaido was still in Wano... I had just taken the throne, young and full of pride. I didn't want to do it. The Old Man ended up flying back from the Red Line just to hang me up and give me a hell of a thrashing."
The "Old Man" referred to Elus's grandfather, the former King of Echemondo. Though retired, he was still healthy and thriving as a high-ranking official at the World Government headquarters on the Red Line. He was living quite the life; word had it he had recently found Bovill a new stepmother who wasn't even twenty years old.
The thought of it...
It was a headache. Fortunately, the man stayed on the Red Line. If he ever brought her back to Arabica, Elus had no idea how he'd handle it. There was no way he was calling a woman younger than himself "Grandmother."
Bovill seemed to share the sentiment, as his expression soured for a moment before he quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, remember this: buying Whitebeard's protection is a bargain at any price. As long as the old man stands, we keep flying that flag, no matter the cost."
Umit was a giant of the Underworld, the King of Shipping. For a man of his stature to target Echemondo's assets without declaring war directly—instead using Amento as a puppet—showed exactly how much he feared that flag.
Umit didn't dare attack Echemondo himself.
That would be a direct provocation to the Whitebeard Pirates.
The consequences of such a move were more than even Umit could bear. Despite his vast network and influence in the New World, and despite being a guest of honor at Big Mom's tea parties, all of that combined couldn't withstand the pressure from the "Strongest Man in the World."
However, where there's a will, there's a way. With enough cunning, one can always find a loophole.
Through the Shipping King's careful machinations, the Kingdom of Amento—which also flew Whitebeard's flag—had declared war.
This was now an internal struggle between two of Whitebeard's vassals. As long as there was no undeniable proof of third-party manipulation, the Whitebeard Pirates wouldn't interfere. To them, it didn't matter who won or lost, as long as the protection money kept flowing.
In fact, if Umit successfully usurped Echemondo, he'd likely increase the tribute to Whitebeard just to keep his new prize secure.
"Ahem, back to business."
Bovill cleared his throat and continued, "Umit is after our coffee plantations, and if he's willing to risk offending Whitebeard by manipulating Amento, this is going to be a hard-fought war. El!"
Bovill looked at his pride and joy, his eldest son.
"Resign from your post as Vice-Minister of Foreign Affairs. You are now the Vice-Minister of the Navy. You will be the one to command this campaign."