As before, William sat on a chair brought over by his subordinates, legs crossed as he observed Selkirk. This time, however, Selkirk was being held in solitary confinement, and the room was empty save for the two of them.
After a long silence, William finally spoke. "The subordinates who betrayed you—they're all dead."
Selkirk's circumstances had already been thoroughly interrogated when he was first captured. The story was clear: he had been tricked by his own first mate, lured off the ship, and then abandoned.
Even the strongest of men would weaken after enduring prolonged hunger. Selkirk, now gaunt and exhausted, had clearly been worn down. William's previous strategy of remaining silent throughout their interactions had left a deep impression on the prisoners, including Selkirk. Combined with the fatigue tactics, their willpower had significantly eroded, leaving them less hostile and far more pliable.
Selkirk looked William up and down before rasping, "So, you're the one in charge now?"
"Of course!" William replied with a faint smile. He stood up from his chair, crouched in front of the cell door, and pulled out a cigarette, waving it in front of Selkirk.
Selkirk hesitated before leaning toward the bars, extending his head cautiously.
William placed the cigarette in Selkirk's mouth and personally lit it for him before lighting one for himself.
Selkirk took a deep drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs before slowly exhaling. His voice was rough as he asked, "What are you planning to do with us? Kill us? You've already got the Devil Fruit, haven't you? We're useless now."
"Is that what you think?" William shook his head. "You're not fit to be a captain."
Selkirk's expression darkened, but given his current predicament, he could only let out a bitter laugh. "You're right. I'm not fit to be a captain. I dragged my comrades into the Grand Line without proper preparation, and most of them ended up dead or injured. Then I got abandoned on a deserted island by my own crew and nearly starved to death. And now, I'm just a prisoner. I really don't have much reason to keep living."
"You were indeed a failure as a captain," William said, his tone calm. "But your luck has turned. If this ship's original captain were still in charge, he would've killed you and your pitiful subordinates outright. He wouldn't have wasted his resources or the ship's space keeping you alive for so long." William lightly tapped the tightly sealed cell door with his finger. "But I see value in you..."
William pointed to his own head. "If you're such a failure as a captain, why not try a different role?"
"You want me to surrender and join your crew? Do you think a few words are enough to turn enemies into allies?" Selkirk quickly caught on to William's intentions.
"Enemies? Allies?" William scoffed, pointing his cigarette at Selkirk. "Don't be so naive. We're pirates, not children. This isn't some playground where a spat means swearing off talking to each other forever. The sea isn't a kindergarten. Other than the Marines, we have no permanent enemies. And making friends isn't about personal likes or dislikes. For pirates, there are only two rules for relationships."
"And what are those?"
"Strength," William said, "and, most importantly—shared goals."
Even from within his cell, Selkirk couldn't help but sneer. "Strength? A pirate from the East Blue is lecturing me about strength? And what's your goal? To dominate the East Blue? The weakest of all seas?"
Years of World Government propaganda and deep-seated prejudice had firmly established the East Blue as the weakest and least significant of the four seas. Pirates from other regions often looked down on those from the East Blue.
Selkirk, being from the North Blue, had grown up in a sea far more chaotic and dangerous than the East Blue. Even the fact that the Pirate King Roger had been executed in the East Blue was seen by many as an insult. Considering that the East Blue was Roger's homeland, the disdain for pirates from this region was deeply ingrained.
William smiled faintly. "Roger and Garp, legends among both pirates and the Marines, were both born in this sea."
Selkirk scrutinized William. "You're awfully arrogant. Do you think you're on par with the Pirate King?"
William, seeing Selkirk's dismissive attitude, broke into a wide grin, leaving Selkirk utterly baffled.
Boom!
Selkirk flinched as a sudden explosion erupted less than half a meter in front of him. A wave of heat surged toward him, and he let out a scream as the blast's force knocked him over. He landed on the floor, his exposed skin turning red from the heat.
The cell door rattled violently under the force of the shockwave but remained firmly locked. When Selkirk looked up, William was already inside the cell.
Amid the rising heat, steam swirled around William's body. His foot pressed down on Selkirk's chest, and wisps of white vapor continuously emanated from his body, raising the temperature in the cramped cell. A nearby candle melted into a puddle within moments.
The spot where William's foot rested on Selkirk's chest sizzled like it was being branded with a hot iron.
Looking down at Selkirk, William opened his mouth, and a puff of white steam escaped with a soft hiss. The faint vapor surrounded his face, and in Selkirk's weakened, delirious state, he almost thought he was hallucinating. From his vantage point, William appeared like a god descending from the clouds.
"Weaklings," William said, his voice cold and commanding, "have no right to choose."
...
Later that afternoon, the ship's doctor Wood, first mate Felton, helmsman Diego, and veteran pirate Hatcheson were summoned to the captain's cabin for a meeting about the ship's affairs.
This was one of the key differences between William and Barbarossa. Barbarossa rarely consulted anyone outside of his brothers, Reis and Hayreddin, when making decisions. He simply issued orders.
William, on the other hand, while equally decisive and with his plans firmly in place, was willing to listen to the opinions and suggestions of others—even if only as a gesture. Ultimately, whether or not he adopted their advice was entirely up to him.
This approach made his subordinates feel valued and recognized, reinforcing their sense of importance within the crew. Additionally, for decisions likely to provoke dissent, William could shift the blame onto those who had participated in the discussions, redirecting the crew's anger toward mid-level leaders instead of himself.
Wood, Hatcheson, and the others, being simple-minded individuals—a doctor, a drunkard, and a brute—had no inkling of William's calculated strategies. They were instead impressed by his leadership style. Even Felton, who had always been at odds with William, privately admitted that William's leadership seemed far more open-minded than Barbarossa's.
Under Diego's wary gaze, Felton was the first to enter the captain's cabin. Upon stepping inside, he noticed something unusual. In addition to Harden, who had recently grown close to William, and quartermaster Klo, the prisoner Selkirk was also present.
William gestured for everyone to sit before turning to pour drinks. It had become his habit to personally serve wine whenever hosting meetings in his cabin. The crew had grown accustomed to this ritual.
Felton, without waiting for an invitation, grabbed a chair and sat down. Pointing at Selkirk, he asked bluntly, "Why isn't this guy still locked up in the brig?"
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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