Near Arabasta, on a completely deserted island, Igaram, disguised as Vivi, looked around in confusion at the barren landscape.
"There really is nothing here... no traps either. What was that woman thinking?" He couldn't make sense of Miss All Sunday's instructions, but he didn't have time to puzzle it out. He needed to return to the palace immediately.
After getting his bearings using the stars, he set sail again.
But not long after departing, his small ship collided with an even smaller boat that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.
"Sorry, sorry!"
A shirtless man wearing a cowboy hat leaped aboard Igaram's vessel.
The moment he landed, he saw Igaram in his female disguise and froze. But then he shrugged it off as if cross-dressing sailors were perfectly normal.
"Been at sea too long, I'm pretty exhausted. Hey, you wouldn't happen to have any food, would you? Water's fine too."
He stretched and looked around, taking in the desert kingdom's heat even at sea. "Man, this country really is hot, even out here on the water."
Igaram noticed the mark on the man's back. Whitebeard's jolly roger, the symbol of one of the most powerful pirate crews in the world.
He swallowed hard. His throat was suddenly dry.
Even so, his ingrained courtesy compelled him to provide food and water. Refusing hospitality to anyone at sea, even a dangerous pirate, went against everything he'd been taught.
"You're a decent person. Yeah, you're the type who's beautiful inside and out!" the stranger grinned, praising Igaram while stuffing food into his mouth.
Igaram blushed without realizing it. "Ah, thank you, no, wait! This is a disguise! You couldn't tell?"
As soon as the words left his mouth, he clapped a hand over it in embarrassment.
The pirate gave him another look and then burst out laughing. "Hahahaha! So that's why someone alone on a ship would be so dressed up. A disguise, huh? Not bad, the face work is excellent. Doesn't look feminine at all."
"It's the clothes that are supposed to make me look like a woman!"
"Eh!?" The pirate froze mid-bite, food still hanging from his mouth. "Oh... so that's how it works. Well... you're still pretty good-looking for a guy."
He quickly looked away.
Igaram wanted to explain the full situation, but in the end said nothing. He just waited quietly for his guest to finish eating and leave.
But while eating, the pirate suddenly collapsed face-first into his food.
"Huh?!"
Igaram was shocked, he definitely hadn't poisoned anything!
Cautiously, he approached and poked the man with his finger, then heard the sound of steady, peaceful breathing.
"He fell asleep?! Hey!!"
A vein bulged on Igaram's forehead. The audacity of falling asleep in a stranger's boat was beyond belief.
But a moment later, he calmed down and took a closer look at the pirate.
Now that he wasn't distracted by panic, he could properly study the man's features. His eyes widened further and further...
"Fire Fist Ace... Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates?!"
"Why would someone of his caliber come to Arabasta? Could he be connected to Crocodile somehow? If Whitebeard himself has designs on our kingdom..."
The thought of a Yonko's attention turning toward Arabasta made his knees weak.
For a brief moment, he considered whether he should eliminate Ace while the pirate was vulnerable. It would solve a potential problem before it could grow larger.
But in the end, he didn't move a finger.
He knew all too well what would happen if he harmed one of Whitebeard's "sons." The retribution would be swift, absolute, and something Arabasta could never hope to survive.
Better to let sleeping pirates lie.
---
At that same time, elsewhere in the Grand Line, Mr. 2 received a call from his boss.
"Go to Whisky Peak and eliminate everyone who's betrayed us."
"Roger that, Zero-chan~" Mr. 2 replied in his flamboyant tone.
The person on the other end of the line went silent. Finally, there was just a heavy sigh before the call disconnected.
"Oh my The path of the okama has brought me another fabulous mission" Mr. 2 struck a dramatic pose. "Boys, let's set sail! Destination: Whisky Peak!"
Under clear skies, the ship began its journey.
---
Meanwhile, back at Drum Island, it had been three days since the Straw Hats departed.
A man wearing a hood and protective goggles landed on the snowy shores, immediately pulling his coat tighter against the bitter cold.
"Hmm? According to our intel, wasn't this place supposed to be under brutal tyrannical rule?" The man pulled out his Den Den Mushi with numb fingers.
Purururu... Purururu...
Gacha.
The call connected.
"Yeah, it's me. The situation here doesn't match the intelligence you gave me at all."
The person on the other end frowned audibly, followed by the sound of papers being shuffled, "Escaped convict from the Kilauea prison camp, Musshuru. Former first heir to the Drum Kingdom throne, exiled for massacring civilians. According to our sources, he was rescued five days ago by his younger brother Wapol."
More paper rustling. "Based on our informant's reports, they should have already reached Drum Island. Given Musshuru's documented psychopathic tendencies, there's a high probability he would attempt to assassinate Wapol and seize the throne for himself."
"Hold on, there's updated intelligence coming in right now."
Several electronic beeps echoed through the Den Den Mushi before the other person fell into silence.
"Hello? What's the new intel? Why'd you suddenly go quiet on me?"
A harsh wind whipped across the island, making the Revolutionary Army operative shiver. Even his Den Den Mushi trembled from the cold.
"Damn this frozen wasteland," he muttered. "Whatever, I'll investigate the situation myself and report back."
The man set off toward the main settlement, trudging through snow that crunched under his boots.
But when he reached the outskirts of town, his jaw dropped.
"What... what the hell is this?!" He stared at vast wheat fields swaying in the wind. "Wheat growing in the dead of winter? No, wait, why are these wheat heads so massive?"
He approached one of the stalks, running his gloved hand along grain ears that were three to four times larger than normal wheat. Each kernel was plump and perfectly formed, and was glowing with health.
Curious, he reached out to pluck one of the grain heads.
Crack!
The entire square meter of wheat stalks shattered instantly like they were made of glass. The next moment, a single stalk of wheat materialized in his hand.
"What the fuck?!"
He stared at the wheat in his palm, then at the perfectly square gap left in the field where the plants had been. This wasn't natural… it was like something out of a fever dream. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if that's all it was, that his real body lay elsewhere, shivering in the cold, slipping toward hypothermia, while his mind wandered through this vision.
That's when the villagers guarding the fields noticed the disturbance and quickly approached.
"Hey, stranger! State your business here!" The lead villager called out, immediately on high alert.
At the same time, one of the iron golems Marcus had created began moving toward them. Its eyes fixed on the stranger, and the three-meter-tall construct's imposing presence made the operative instinctively raise his hands in surrender.
"I'm with the Revolutionary Army," he said quickly. "We received intelligence suggesting a tyrant might emerge here, so I was sent to investigate and potentially provide assistance."
The villager's expression turned peculiar upon hearing "Revolutionary Army." He looked the man up and down skeptically.
"You don't look like any revolutionary I've heard about," he said bluntly. "You'll need to come with me for questioning."
As he spoke, the lead villager picked up a green seed from the ground and buried it in the tilled soil.
"Come on, let's go!"
He led the suspicious man toward the town center, where Dalton was handling administrative duties. After a brief introduction explaining the circumstances, the two men found themselves face to face.
"So you claim to be with the Revolutionary Army?" Dalton asked, studying the newcomer.
"My name is Sabo. I'm currently responsible for Revolutionary Army operations in this section of the Grand Line." The young man pulled back his hood, revealing a burn scar over his left eye. "Your country should have been torn apart by civil war between Wapol and Musshuru by now. Did they destroy each other?"
Dalton looked thoughtfully at the boy, noting something oddly familiar about his earnest expression and tone of voice.
After a moment of consideration, he replied, "You're too late to help with that particular crisis. I can't go into all the details, but the Drum Kingdom as it once existed has fallen. Both Wapol and his brother have vanished. Right now... there is no king in the traditional sense."
Hearing this outcome, Sabo nodded and smiled with relief. "In that case, we can offer you access to stable trade routes. That should help you quickly restore your economy and establish reliable food security."
Dalton remained silent for a while, then nodded slowly. "We definitely need new trade connections, but..."
"Don't worry about the details," Sabo reassured him warmly. "Even though these would all be non-World Government member nations, quality and safety are guaranteed. We can even offer you favorable terms initially. Later, when your country becomes more prosperous, all we'd ask is that you help support other nations in need."
Listening to Sabo's sincere words, Dalton felt his tension ease. There was something strangely trustworthy about the boy's gaze and manner of speaking... almost like that Straw Hat kid who'd changed everything.
"Alright, I accept your offer."
Seeing Dalton's agreement, Sabo also relaxed visibly. Then his curiosity got the better of him as he gestured toward the wheat fields.
"By the way, what's the story with these crops? Did you develop some new variety of cold-resistant wheat? If so, could you spare some seeds for us? Don't worry, not much, just enough for research purposes. Many winter islands are desperately in need of agricultural solutions like this."
Dalton's expression turned strange at the request, which confused Sabo.
That's when the Den Den Mushi in Sabo's coat began ringing insistently.
"Hello? Sabo, is that you? We just received updated intelligence. Drum Kingdom has already been renamed as 'Neverwinter.' Its current leader is Dalton, and he's already established contact with us through official channels."
Sabo froze, staring at Dalton's odd expression.
"Hahaha... sorry about that. Our intelligence network was running a bit behind, apparently."
Taking two steps back, Sabo's face turned red. "Why didn't anyone tell me something this important sooner? You made me look like a complete amateur! I was even being questioned about whether I was a real Revolutionary!"
"Sorry, sorry!" came the apologetic voice through the Den Den Mushi. "The news was so shocking that we forgot to update field operatives immediately."
"What kind of news could be that shocking?" Sabo asked. "Was it about them developing super cold-resistant crops? Because I'm telling you, this stuff grows even in deep winter conditions! It's absolutely incredible."
"Huh? Cold-resistant crops? What are you talking about?"
"Eh?"
Both sides were clearly confused by each other's priorities.
"Wait, if it's not about the crops, then what was so shocking?" Sabo demanded.
"Hold on, super cold-resistant crops that grow in winter? How resistant are we talking about here?" the voice asked urgently.
Both sides started talking past each other in their excitement.
"I asked first!"
"You explain the plants first!" The woman's voice, which Sabo now recognized as Koala, snapped impatiently through the Den Den Mushi.
He sighed and explained in detail about the wheat he'd witnessed, including the strange way it shattered and reformed when touched.
Koala's surprised voice came through clearly: "Oh! No wonder they said they didn't need our assistance."
"Now tell me what's happening on your end."
Koala then explained about the so-called Neverwinter ideology that had apparently emerged from this remote winter island.
---
After a long explanation filled with political theory and social philosophy that made Sabo's head spin...
"You're saying this ideology came from the Straw Hat Pirates?"
"A pirate crew spreading such theory... are they really pirates?"
"Who says they aren't?" interjected the villager standing beside Dalton, nodding in firm agreement.
Dalton himself remained silent, just watching Sabo process this information.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to belittle them," Sabo said quickly. "It's just that this is all so..."
"Beyond common sense, right?" Dalton spoke.
In this era dominated by pirates, most crews were nothing but criminals and murderers. Yet from the mouth of a pirate had come an ideology of social revolution and equality, how could that not be shocking? Honestly, if Marcus hadn't explained it all to him in detail right there in person, he would have doubted its authenticity too.
"If I could, I'd really love to meet the man who could develop such thinking," Sabo said wistfully, adjusting his top hat.
"Since there's nothing urgent for us to handle here anymore... could you spare some of those wheat seeds? They'd be extremely valuable to our cause. Too many nations don't have enough food to feed their people."
"At the moment, we don't have large quantities to spare," Dalton admitted after thinking it over. "But I'm willing to help with what we can manage."
His decision to reach out to the Revolutionary Army wasn't just about spreading their ideology, it was also because he believed in making as many friends as possible, and as few enemies as possible.
Drum Island was small and vulnerable. If they could build solid connections with the Revolutionary Army, it would only benefit their future security and development. This was especially important now that they were no longer a World Government member nation and had to plan for potential threats.