Arabasta, Grand Line
The grand study of the Royal Palace of Arabasta was a testament to the kingdom's millennia-old legacy. Towering bookshelves lined the walls, filled with scrolls and tomes chronicling history, diplomacy, and the intricate records of trade.
An immense mahogany desk sat at the center of the room, adorned with neatly stacked documents, maps marked with inked routes, and golden insignias of the royal seal. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting vibrant hues across the marble floor, while the scent of parchment, ink, and desert jasmine filled the air.
Seated behind the grand desk was Nefertari Cobra, his sharp eyes scanning the documents before him. Despite his youth—only in his late twenties—he bore the weight of kingship with a quiet, commanding presence. His once-carefree demeanor had long been replaced by the burdens of leadership, and as he read through the reports detailing Arabasta's mounting crisis, a deep frown creased his brow.
"Has it been confirmed, Igaram?" Cobra's voice was firm but weary as he shifted through the papers, his fingers tightening around the parchment detailing the kingdom's recent maritime losses. "Are these pirate attacks truly as severe as they seem?"
Standing before him, Commander Igaram, a veteran and one of Cobra's most trusted men, straightened his posture. His distinctive curled hairstyle and ruffled attire did little to detract from the sharp glint in his eyes—he was a man who had served Arabasta with unwavering loyalty since childhood.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Igaram reported gravely. "There has been a sudden influx of pirates in the region. No one has seen them directly, nor do we know their identities, but more and more of our merchant ships are being targeted. At first, it was isolated incidents—one or two ships. But now, even armed merchant fleets are falling prey to these attacks."
Cobra exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple as he absorbed the information. This was no minor nuisance; Arabasta's survival depended on sea trade. As a desert kingdom, they had long relied on maritime commerce to import essential goods—food, medicine, and essential commodities. With these trade routes under siege, the stability of the kingdom was in jeopardy.
His mind raced through the possibilities. "Is it just us?" he asked, his voice edged with suspicion. Arabasta was a kingdom of wealth and prestige, its history older than most nations in the world. "Could one of our neighboring kingdoms be behind this?"
It wouldn't be the first time. While Arabasta lacked natural resources, its influence, culture, and historical significance were unparalleled. Envy often bred hostility. If another kingdom sought to disrupt Arabasta's prosperity, Cobra would not sit idly by. He was a patient ruler, not a weak one.
But Igaram shook his head. "No, Your Majesty. It is not just us. These pirates have struck nearly every kingdom in the surrounding seas. Whatever their goal is, it is not limited to Arabasta alone."
Cobra's frown deepened. This wasn't about ransom or tribute. When new pirate groups seized control of sea routes, they often demanded payments from local monarchies in exchange for safe passage. Yet, these raiders had made no demands. No negotiations, no ultimatums—just silent, relentless disruption.
"Who are these people… and what exactly do they want?" Cobra murmured, his fingers tapping against the desk.
His thoughts were interrupted by Igaram clearing his throat. "There is… another matter, Your Majesty."
Cobra looked up, his patience thinning. "Go on."
"One of the Shichibukai has been spotted in the port town of Nanohana," Igaram reported carefully. "We do not yet know why one of the Warlords of the Sea—appointed by the World Government—has made their presence known in Arabasta."
Cobra's grip on the parchment tightened. A Shichibukai… here?
Ever since the world had learned of the Ancient Weapons, the balance of power had begun to shift. And Arabasta, as one of the twenty original kingdoms that had once helped forge the World Government, held secrets that many would kill to uncover.
Cobra knew of those secrets. Secrets buried in the very history of his family. A cold realization gripped him. Had the World Government begun to suspect something? No… that wasn't possible. If they truly believed Arabasta held knowledge of the Ancient Weapons, they wouldn't send just a warlord. They would turn the entire kingdom upside down.
Still, the timing was unsettling.
Igaram hesitated before speaking again. "Shall I arrange for someone to follow the Shichibukai, Your Majesty?"
Cobra fell into silence, his mind weighing the risks. A direct confrontation was out of the question. The Shichibukai were powerful figures, each with enough strength to contend with an entire navy fleet. Yet, ignoring the presence of one in his lands was equally reckless.
Finally, his eyes sharpened with resolve. "Assign a few of your men to discreetly tail them. Keep a safe distance—we do not want to provoke a misunderstanding with the World Government."
Igaram bowed. "Understood, Your Majesty."
Cobra exhaled, gazing down at the reports before him once more. Pirates disrupting the seas. A Shichibukai in his kingdom. And a history that, if uncovered, could shake the world itself. A storm was brewing on the horizon. And Cobra knew that if he didn't act swiftly, Arabasta would be caught in the center of it.
Just as Cobra and Igaram continued their discussion on the kingdom's affairs, the grand doors to the study creaked open. The scent of freshly prepared food wafted through the room, momentarily distracting the two men from their worries.
Standing at the threshold was Queen Titi of Arabasta, a warm yet regal presence, carrying a large silver platter of food in her delicate hands. The soft glow of the evening sun framed her figure, casting a golden hue over her silken blue robes embroidered with the royal insignia. Her gentle yet commanding demeanor had long made her beloved among the people, for though she was queen, she never distanced herself from those she ruled.
Yet what caught Cobra's attention immediately was the slight swell of her stomach beneath her robes—a quiet yet undeniable reminder of the life growing within her. Their child. The future of Arabasta.
Cobra's heart clenched. She shouldn't be carrying something so heavy!
"Your Highness, allow me!" Igaram, ever the vigilant protector, rushed forward without hesitation, carefully taking the heavy platter from her hands before she could protest. The moment he did, Cobra was already by her side, his concern barely masked beneath his usual composure.
"Titi," he chided, his voice a mixture of sternness and worry. "What were you thinking, carrying something this heavy in your condition?"
She sighed, an exasperated but amused smile gracing her lips as she allowed him to guide her toward a chair. "I am pregnant, not ill, dear husband," she replied, rolling her eyes as Cobra quickly pulled out a chair for her, fussing over her as if she were made of porcelain.
Still, Cobra made a mental note to give the head maid a stern scolding later. How could they allow the queen of Arabasta to carry something so heavy? Though, in truth, he already knew the answer—Titi must have insisted, and no one in the palace dared to oppose her whims, especially now.
Ever since she had become pregnant, the servants, the guards, even the royal advisors had indulged her every wish. Who would dare refuse the Queen when she threw a rare tantrum, especially when she carried the heir to the kingdom within her?
As Cobra helped her sit, Igaram carefully placed the platter on the table, shifting aside stacks of documents with the utmost caution. The table, once cluttered with maps and reports, now held steaming dishes of fragrant rice, grilled fish, and warm flatbreads—simple, hearty food meant to revive a king too engrossed in his duties to eat.
Cobra folded his arms, his expression softening but still laced with mock irritation. "Why did you go through all this trouble? You are a queen—have you already forgotten that?"
Titi scoffed, crossing her arms in defiance. "If you hadn't forgotten about your meals, burying yourself in work all day, I wouldn't have to worry, now would I?"
Cobra stiffened, caught in the act. Igaram, standing beside them, flushed with guilt. He, too, had been so preoccupied with urgent reports that he hadn't reminded the king to eat. If anything, he had contributed to the problem.
"Your Highness… it was my fault," Igaram said, bowing deeply. "I should have ensured His Majesty took a break."
Titi merely chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "Come now, brother Igaram, we have known each other since childhood. When we are not in the public eye, you can drop the formalities."
Cobra watched his wife with a mixture of admiration and exasperation. She had always been this way—graceful yet grounded, regal yet humble. Though she was queen, she never let it distance her from those she cared for. Even now, she had not only prepared food for him but had also ensured there was enough for Igaram as well.
"Sit, both of you," Titi instructed, her voice leaving no room for argument. "I know you haven't eaten either, Igaram. I brought plenty for both of you."
With a sheepish sigh, Cobra relented, settling beside his wife as the weight of his responsibilities momentarily lifted. Igaram hesitated only for a moment before following suit, the aroma of the meal reminding him just how long it had been since he last ate.
As they began their meal, Cobra found himself gazing at Titi once more, the worries of the kingdom momentarily pushed aside. She had always been his anchor—the one who reminded him that he was not just a king, but a man, a husband, and soon… a father.
And at that moment, surrounded by warmth, laughter, and the gentle presence of his queen, he felt the burdens of kingship grow just a little lighter.
As Cobra and Igaram continued their meal, Titi's gaze shifted to the documents sprawled across the table. Her once-gentle demeanor transformed into something far sharper—the presence of a ruler, a strategist, an empress in all but title.
Since the confirmation of her pregnancy, Cobra had taken great measures to keep her away from matters of state, fearing that stress might affect her health. Yet, while his concerns were born from love, they also betrayed a deep misunderstanding of the woman he had married.
The truth was, Titi was the true architect behind Arabasta's recent prosperity. While Cobra ruled with wisdom and compassion, it was Titi's cunning, her strategic foresight, and her deep understanding of political nuance that had ensured Arabasta thrived. She had no intention of sitting idly by just because she was with child.
Cobra, seeing her flip through the reports with practiced ease, instinctively opened his mouth to protest—but a series of rapid winks from Igaram made him hesitate. The commander knew well that Titi's reprimands were not something either of them wanted to endure. Every time they had made a misstep, it was she who had scolded them for their political blindness, for failing to see the broader picture.
Now, her eyes narrowed as she examined the report on the mysterious pirate attacks and the recent arrival of a Warlord in Arabasta. Without looking up, she spoke, her tone sharp yet graceful.
"Have you confirmed the identity of the Shichibukai in question?"
Igaram, caught mid-bite, choked slightly before quickly swallowing and answering.
"It's Crocodile, Your Highness," he said, glancing at Cobra, who kept eating—realizing, to his own embarrassment, that he had forgotten to ask this crucial question earlier.
Titi's piercing blue eyes flickered with understanding. Her fingers drummed against the table as she considered the implications.
"Instead of sitting in the dark, trying to guess at his motives, why not extend him a royal invitation?" She leaned back, her gaze unreadable. "If we wish to gauge his intentions, let us do so face-to-face."
Igaram nearly dropped his fork.
"Your Highness, that is dangerous!" he protested. "Even if he is a Warlord appointed by the World Government, he remains a pirate, a man with the legal right to pillage! We absolutely cannot give him a reason to target Arabasta. For all we know he must simply be passing through."
Cobra remained silent, watching his wife intently. He had long since learned to trust her instincts.
Titi arched an eyebrow. "And where exactly would he be 'passing through' to, Commander?" She asked coolly, holding up the document detailing Crocodile's presence in Arabasta. "He has been here for over a week. If he were simply traveling, he would have already left. And…"
She lifted another report—a pinned photograph of a teenage girl traveling alongside Crocodile. The girl's face was mostly obscured by a scarf, the image grainy due to the distance from which it had been taken. But something about her struck a chord of familiarity in Titi's mind.
"More importantly, who is this girl?" she mused. "I feel as if I've seen that face before… but where?"
She studied the image for a long moment before setting it down. Something didn't add up. If Crocodile had business in the Four Blues, there was no need for him to pass through Arabasta at all.
Arabasta was far from the natural sea currents that led to the Calm Belt. It was closer to Reverse Mountain, but that was only an entry point, not an exit. If Crocodile were simply heading for the Four Blues, he had no logical reason to be here.
That meant he had come for something… or someone. And that something was in Arabasta.
"There are no coincidences in this world," Titi said softly, her voice laced with certainty. "Not when it concerns a Warlord of the Sea."
Igaram hesitated, then asked carefully, "What would you have me do, Your Highness?"
Titi set the document down and folded her hands, her gaze sharp as a blade.
"First, assign a discreet unit to gather intelligence on the girl," she commanded. "If she is important enough to travel alongside Crocodile, then she is important enough for us to know about. Check the recent records—pirates, merchants, mercenaries, bounty hunters, even marines. I want to know if any new figures or organizations have emerged in the surrounding seas."
Igaram nodded, already mentally compiling a list of informants to deploy.
"And what of Crocodile himself?" Cobra asked, finally speaking.
Titi smiled—a knowing, dangerous smile.
"Invite him to the palace," she said. "Let us see if the so-called 'Shichibukai' is ready to stand in the court of a true monarch. In the meantime, send an invitation to the Marine official posted in Arabasta."
And just like that, Arabasta's silent empress had moved her first piece.
****
The vast desert of Arabasta stretched endlessly beneath the blistering sun, a sea of golden dunes shifting restlessly under the howling desert winds. The air shimmered with heat, distorting the horizon where the sky met the sands in an illusion of endlessness. Arabasta was an unforgiving land—one that devoured the weak and tested the resolve of those who dared to walk its barren expanse.
Yet, deep beneath this arid wasteland, hidden away from the scorching daylight, lay an ancient cavern untouched by time.
This place was a relic of the past, a secret buried beneath layers of stone and history itself. The air here was thick with dust, the walls lined with etched hieroglyphs that whispered forgotten truths to those willing to listen. A faint glow from the sun, the light filtering through the hole atop, bathed the cavern in an eerie orange hue, casting long shadows across the massive, monolithic Poneglyph standing at the heart of the chamber.
A girl stood before it, her expression unreadable as her eyes traced the carved inscriptions. Wrapped in layers of flowing desert garments, she was dressed to withstand the wrath of the desert storms above.
Her long robes, dyed in muted earthy tones, billowed slightly with each movement, and a scarf was wrapped securely around her head and lower face, shielding her from the ever-present grains of sand that seeped into everything. Her hands, covered in soft but durable linen wrappings, trembled ever so slightly as she reached out to touch the cold surface of the stone.
This was the first Poneglyph Nico D. Lily had ever laid eyes on.
She had heard of them, relics of a bygone era, indestructible monuments that carried the weight of forgotten history. But hearing of something and standing in its presence were two entirely different things. The stone was massive, ancient, absolute—like a silent guardian of the past.
She felt small before it.
And yet, standing beside her, utterly unfazed by the magnitude of what lay before them, was Crocodile. The infamous Shichibukai, the man who had forced her into his service, stood with his hands tucked into the pockets of his long, fur-lined coat, a lit cigar burning between his lips. Wisps of smoke curled lazily around his face, his sharp features illuminated by the dim glow of the cavern.
Unlike Lily, he made no effort to shield himself from the elements. Where she was wrapped in protective layers, he wore his usual attire—a pristine suit, unbothered by the heat, the sand, or the dangers that came with traversing the desert. It was as if he belonged here, as if the desert itself bowed to him.
Because in a way, it did.
Crocodile had claimed Arabasta as his own long before he had set foot here. To him, this land was not a trial to endure but a tool to wield. He exhaled a plume of smoke, his golden hook gleaming faintly in the cavern's dim light as he observed the Poneglyph with cold, calculated eyes. Unlike Lily, he did not stand before the stone in reverence or curiosity.
To him, this was not history. This was power.
"This is what you've been looking for, isn't it?" he drawled, his voice smooth yet carrying an edge as sharp as a blade. Lily stiffened but didn't answer immediately. She didn't trust him—she never had. But trust was a luxury she couldn't afford.
From the moment she had fallen into his grasp, she knew there was no escape. Not yet.
She had seen firsthand what happened to those who tried. Crocodile was efficient. Ruthless. And unlike the fools who had underestimated her in the past, he wasn't blinded by arrogance—he saw her for what she was.
A key. A tool. A means to unearth the weapon he so desperately sought. For more than a year, they had scoured the Grand Line, chasing whispers and half-truths. But now, at long last, they had found concrete evidence—Arabasta held the secret he had been seeking.
Crocodile's gaze darkened.
If the Royal Family of Arabasta stood between him and his prize, then so be it. He would bury them beneath the sands if necessary. The kingdom, the throne, the people—none of it mattered. What mattered was the ancient weapon. And Crocodile would stop at nothing to claim it.
Crocodile exhaled slowly, a thin plume of smoke curling from the cigar between his fingers as his sharp gaze bore into the girl before him. His patience was wearing thin.
"So, what does it say?" he asked, his voice laced with barely contained irritation. "Does it mention the location of the ancient weapons?"
Lily flinched at the harshness of his tone, though she quickly masked it, forcing herself to maintain a facade of indifference. Excitement could be dangerous. Hesitation could be deadly. She had learned that lesson well.
She couldn't let him see the truth—not the truth of what was written on this stone, nor the truth of her own thoughts. To Crocodile, she was nothing more than a tool. And when tools failed to function as expected, they tended to break.
He had never tormented her in the ways some monsters might, but that didn't mean she had it easy. His punishments were precise, cruel in their efficiency. A warning glance, a subtle reminder of the power he held over her—it was all he needed to keep her in line.
Up until now, she had relied on one undeniable fact to keep him at bay—Crocodile could not read the Poneglyphs nor had he located one until today. That ignorance had been her shield, her only leverage.
But now, with a Poneglyph standing right before them, she could no longer afford to make excuses. She needed to play this carefully. If this stone truly held the key to an Ancient Weapon, then under no circumstance could she allow that information to fall into Crocodile's hands. His voice snapped like a whip through the cavern.
"Stop wasting my time and start deciphering the damn stone."
It wasn't just an order—it was a warning. A silent promise that he would know if she lied.
Lily swallowed down her fear and hurriedly pulled a worn, leather-bound diary from within her satchel. The book was filled with her own personal notes, scrawled translations, and fragments of history she had painstakingly gathered over the years.
She ran her fingers over the ancient script, her mind racing as she began deciphering the secrets carved into the stone.
Meanwhile, Crocodile turned away, exhaling another stream of smoke as he observed the cavern around them. The underground chamber was vast, a hidden tomb swallowed by time. The jagged stone walls bore remnants of long-lost carvings, their edges smoothed by centuries of erosion. For most, falling into a place like this would spell death.
A coffin of sand and stone, sealing them away beneath the earth forever. But to him? This was a sanctuary. The darkness. The silence. The weight of history pressing down on the very air.
He thrived in places like this.
He had chosen Arabasta for more than just its strategic location—it was a land built upon shifting sands, just like him. A kingdom vulnerable to the very element he commanded. And soon, if his plans unfolded as he intended, it would belong to him.