Chapter Text
Midday sunlight scorched the cobblestones, glinting off polished armor, wagon wheels, and gold-laden chests. The lone tax wagon lumbered along, groaning with the weight of coins freshly collected from the kingdom’s people. Around it marched a half-dozen royal guards, spears upright, boots clanging against stone, faces tense and flushed with heat. The smell of sweat, leather, dust, and horse mingled in the air like a thick, uneasy perfume.
“This is madness,” muttered a guard, tugging the reins of a skittish horse. “Why aren’t we delivering this at night anymore? Night deliveries made sense—safer, quieter…”
“Are you blind?!” snapped the guard beside him. “Do you really not know why? That gutless, cowardly criminal is still out there! Robin of the Straw Hat!”
The first guard shivered. “Robin…?”
“Yes! A ghost! A demon! A thief who can vanish into thin air, clever enough to turn a dozen men’s traps against them in a single heartbeat! Fast, strong, cunning—he makes you doubt every step you take!”
“And he’s never alone, right?” the first guard whispered, eyes wide.
“Never!” the second guard said, shaking his head. “That other brute—John the Three-Bladed! If Robin is a ghost, John is the hammer that follows him. Strong, precise, relentless… men say he hits like a battering ram and never misses. Together, they’ve emptied more wagons than anyone dares count!”
A third guard snorted. “Which is why we’re moving this in broad daylight. No one sane would ambush the royal guard in full sun—not even those two.”
The wagon creaked under the weight, horses plodding steadily, hooves echoing off the stone. For a moment, the rhythm seemed almost reassuring.
Then came the flicker of shadows in the treetops above.
“Did you hear that?” muttered the first guard.
“Probably just a bird,” said the captain, voice calm but taut. “Keep moving.”
The guards continued down the road, the breeze rustling the leaves in the trees. It was calm. Almost… too calm.
Then—
A thud rang out, sharp and wrong, echoing across the cobblestones.
A figure dropped onto the road with a loud clatter, sending coins scattering like tiny meteors. Luffy scrambled to his feet, arms flailing, straw hat wobbling comically atop his head.
“Hello!” he called cheerfully. “Thanks for the free money! I’ll be taking this wagon now!”
“WHAT?!” shouted a guard, lunging forward, sword raised.
Luffy ducked under the swing, then jabbed a fist straight into the guard’s chest, sending him sprawling to the ground with a stunned thump. With a mischievous grin, Luffy vaulted onto the wagon railing, spun once, and landed atop a chest, nearly tipping it over.
“You all make it too easy for me! Even switching to daytime deliveries so I can get a full night of sleep—how thoughtful!” he shouted, laughing.
“It’s him! Robin of the Straw Hat!” one guard screamed, panic sharpening his features.
“Get him!” another yelled, drawing his sword.
“Wait… if Straw Hat is here, then—” a third guard started, but before he could finish, a blur of green flashed from the side of the wagon.
John the Three-Bladed moved like a shadow—silent, precise, deadly. In one fluid motion, he dragged a guard under the wagon. The other soldiers froze, eyes wide with terror, as the green-haired swordsman crawled out from beneath the wheels and rose to his full height, swords gleaming dangerously in the sunlight.
“Looks like you’ve got a heavy load here,” Zoro said, voice calm but laced with menace. “Mind if we lighten it a little?”
Steel flashed with effortless precision, knocking aside spears and shields. Sparks leapt where blades met metal. Meanwhile, Luffy bounced and rolled through the chaos, tripping a guard into a mud puddle with a triumphant shout.
The wagon lurched violently. Coins skittered across the cobblestones like fleeing insects. Luffy, undeterred, scrambled onto a fallen log, using it as a springboard to vault over the wagon while knocking another guard off balance. The man fell into the stream, sputtering and swearing.
“Stop… stop him!” shouted a guard, desperation creeping into his voice. But arrows and spears only made the chaos worse.
Luffy swung wildly, knocking an incoming arrow aside with a stray branch. It ricocheted unpredictably, flying straight toward Zoro. The swordsman yelped and ducked, leaving the arrow to embed harmlessly into a nearby guard’s helmet. The man yelped, stumbled back, and promptly fainted in terror.
“Oi! Watch where you’re aiming!” Zoro barked, spinning to face the chaos, swords at the ready.
“My bad!” Luffy called cheerfully, waving.
The chaos roared on. Coins skittered across the cobblestones like tiny bells, while guards swung swords, shouted, and scrambled to keep up with the impossible duo. Luffy bounced from chest to chest, shoving coins into a sack with exaggerated care, almost performing a little dance with each handful.
A guard charged at Luffy, sword raised. Luffy grinned, somersaulted off a crate, and—inevitably—landed square on top of Zoro. The swordsman barely shifted, using the accidental momentum to trip the attacking guard with a single, precise swipe of his sword. The man tumbled backward into a glittering pile of coins.
“See? That’s what I call teamwork!” Luffy said cheerfully, brushing mud off his sleeves.
“Teamwork,” Zoro muttered dryly, “more like a human vaulting pad.”
Meanwhile, Luffy continued shoveling coins into sacks with absurd enthusiasm. Once satisfied with one, he tossed it toward Zoro. “Here! You get some too! Can’t have you slacking while I do all the work!”
Zoro caught it effortlessly with one hand, shaking his head. “You are the problem, you know that?”
“Oh, please,” Luffy laughed, leaping onto the wagon railing, “I’m the fun problem!”
A guard swung at Luffy from behind. Luffy ducked, rolled, bounced off a chest—and accidentally smacked Zoro in the side. Zoro barely flinched, swinging his swords in a precise arc that sent the guard sprawling into the mud.
“You really need to stop bouncing into me,” Zoro said flatly.
“Not my fault you’re too stiff!” Luffy grinned, grabbing another handful of coins and shoving them into a sack. Once it was full, he tossed it at Zoro, who caught it without breaking stride. Now carrying two sacks, Zoro’s expression was as deadpan as ever. Luffy rushed to fill three more, grinning like a child in a candy store.
Finally satisfied, Luffy swung the sacks over his shoulders with a triumphant flourish. He turned to the guards and tipped his hat. “Well, it’s been nice seeing you guys again! Until next time… take care!”
Zoro gave a low grunt and started moving, sacks in hand, heading toward the edge of the forest. Luffy followed, bouncing lightly on his heels, laughing as he ducked under low branches and vaulting over a stray log.
“Don’t let them get away!” shouted a guard, rallying the rest, but the chase had already begun.
The forest swallowed them as the chase began. Roots and rocks tripped up the guards behind, while Luffy bounded ahead, holding one sack in each hand—and somehow managing to clamp another between his teeth. Coins jostled and rattled inside, but he grinned like it was the easiest thing in the world.
“Look! Look, Zoro!” Luffy shouted, wobbling slightly as he ran. “I look like you now! Three-bag style!” He struggled to keep the handle of the sack in his mouth from slipping.
Zoro, moving past him with his usual deadly precision, barely glanced over his shoulder. “We don’t have time for this, come on! Focus!”
Zoro ducked beneath a low-hanging branch without breaking stride, vaulted a fallen log in a single smooth motion, and carved a clean path through the underbrush with precise, efficient sweeps of his swords.
Luffy, on the other hand, bounced off a tree trunk, spun wildly, and accidentally swung one of the sacks in a wide arc—sending a spray of coins glittering across the trail like scattered stars.
A guard stumbled over the sudden spill, arms flailing, and went headfirst into a shallow stream with a wet splash.
Luffy pointed back at him, laughing so hard he nearly dropped his sacks. “Oops! Sorry! Totally accidental!”
Zoro snorted under his breath but never slowed. His boots barely whispered against the forest floor, swords flashing now and then to bat aside a branch or deflect a hastily thrown spear. Behind them, Luffy’s chaotic energy left a trail of tripping soldiers, kicked-up mud, and the telltale jingle of coins bouncing into the undergrowth.
They burst into a small clearing. Luffy skidded to a stop, juggling the sacks and nearly toppling over—then caught himself at the last second, straightening with a triumphant grin. He turned his head, spotting the guards in the distance, still scrambling and shouting.
He waved cheerfully over his shoulder, teeth clamped around the handle of the third sack. “Bye-bye! Try to keep up!”
Zoro growled, tightening his grip on the sacks. “Just—keep running.”
And with that, the duo vanished once more into the Greenwood, swallowed by shadow and leaves, leaving chaos, scattered coins, and thoroughly flustered guards behind them.
When the guards finally stumbled into the clearing, they were bent double and gasping, eyes darting wildly from tree to tree. There was no sign of the outlaws—only disturbed leaves, muddy footprints, and a few stray coins glinting mockingly in the dirt.
The lead guard hurled his sword to the ground. “Dammit!”
He drew in a breath and shouted into the trees, voice cracking with fury. “You won’t keep getting away with this, Straw Hat! The prince will have you yet—you and Three Blades! Count your days!”
The forest, indifferent and silent, swallowed his words whole.
The hideout smelled of firewood, warm bread, and the faint tang of sweat and oil. Coins clinked and jingled across the floor, piled in sacks that shimmered in the firelight. Luffy had collapsed onto a chest, sacks draped across him, grinning like a child who had found a treasure trove. Zoro was leaning against a wall, swords at his side, eyeing the chaos with quiet amusement.
Usopp knelt beside the piles of coins, eyes wide and sparkling. “Wow! Look at all this! We’re rich!”
Sanji smacked him upside the head with the back of his hand. “We’re not rich! This isn’t for us, you idiot! It goes straight to the people who need it—the widows, the orphans, the poor farmers, and yes… the ladies of the land!”
Franky laughed, slapping a heavy hand on a chest. “Come on now, you know better! This isn’t about riches; it’s about helping anyone in need! That’s why we do this!”
Zoro scoffed, arms crossed. “I don’t think Curly-Brow over there knows better. Hell, he hardly knows anything at all except how to be an idiot.”
Sanji bristled. “At least I know what this is about!”
Zoro raised an eyebrow. “You think you know.”
Before their bickering could escalate further, a familiar musical chord rang out. Brook, standing tall and elegant with his lute, swept the moment into harmony.
“Boys! Boys!” he exclaimed. “No need to quarrel! This calls for song and celebration! Three cheers to Robin of the Straw Hat, for another job well done!”
He strummed the lute, and a lively, spirited tune filled the room. His voice rang out clear and musical, echoing the ballads sung by the townsfolk:
O Robin of the Straw Hat,
He dances through the night!
John of the Three-Bladed strikes so fast,
A shadow in the fight!
Long-Nose Scarlet takes his aim,
A sharpshooter true and bright!
Much of the Chef’s Son cooks the bread,
To fill the hungry’s bite!
Flam of the Iron-Hand builds the traps,
That guard the paths just right!
And Alan-A-Bones sings our song,
To cheer us through the night!
Ho! Ho! The Laughing Men!
They strike and then they flee!
O Robin of the Straw Hat,
Brings joy and liberty!
As the final chord rang out, Luffy tilted his head, eyes wide. “I… don’t get it.”
Sanji raised an eyebrow. “What don’t you get?”
Luffy pouted, bouncing the sacks on his shoulders. “Why do they call me Robin of the Straw Hat? My name is Luffy. It’s… nowhere even close to Robin. It’s confusing.”
Brook adjusted his cravat, voice calm and musical. “My dear friend, it is merely an epithet! A mark of honor, a name the people bestow without needing your true one.”
He gestured dramatically. “Zoro is John of the Three-Bladed, Sanji is Much of the Chef’s Son, Usopp is Long-Nose Scarlet, Franky is Flam of the Iron-Hand, and I am Alan-A-Bones.”
Usopp bounced on his heels, gleaming. “See? It’s just a nickname! Take is as a compliment, that just means the townsfolk love you! They love all of us!”
Zoro leaned against the wall, expression flat but eyes narrowing. “Be grateful they’re calling us that instead of our real names. Who knows what the prince would do if he knew our true identities.”
Luffy frowned. “But I still like my name better.”
Sanji muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “Of course he does…”
Franky clapped his hands. “Doesn’t matter what he likes! The haul is safe, the people get what they need, and the Laughing Men celebrate! Now that calls for a proper toast!”
A sudden rustling echoed through the trees outside the hideout, sharp enough to make everyone freeze mid-laugh. Coins clinked in their sacks as each member instinctively reached for their weapons.
“Shh,” Zoro muttered, narrowing his eyes. “Stay sharp.”
A figure stepped through the branches, moving with calm certainty. Short, lanky, and wearing a simple friar’s robe, he carried a staff and a satchel. Luffy’s eyes lit up. “It’s Chopper!”
Usopp practically bounced forward, eyes gleaming. “Friar Chopper! What brings you here? Have you come to celebrate with us—my victory?”
Sanji’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Your victory? We weren’t even out there today!”
Usopp waved a hand dismissively. “Shush, chef-boy, it’s fine. Let the celebration continue.”
Chopper chuckled warmly, setting down his satchel and staff. “I heard whispers through the villages that the tax wagon was swindled again,” he said, his voice steady and knowing. “I wanted to see if the rumors were true.”
He paused, eyes scanning the gleaming sacks. Then a broad smile spread across his face. “And… it seems they were!”
Franky grinned. “Friar Chopper, now that you’re here, maybe you can help us figure out who’s next to get their taxes returned to the people!”
Chopper’s laughter rang out, a deep, hearty sound. “Absolutely! But…I wouldn't mind a good party first. The people need us, and the prince will not stay idle for long. But, hard work always deserves to be celebrated.”
Zoro leaned against a crate, arms crossed, eyes narrowing. “Does the prince know he was robbed again?”
Chopper shook his head slowly, his expression calm but serious. “I’m not sure. The guards may not have reached him yet… but it’s probably only a matter of time.”
The echoes of shouting reverberated through the high, vaulted ceilings of the throne room. “WHAT?!?” The voice of Prince Charlos rang like a clap of thunder, sharp and furious. The golden candelabras flickered, throwing dancing shadows across the marble floor as the prince’s fingers tightened around the gilded armrests of his throne.
“How did this happen?!” he bellowed, rising slightly in his seat. “It’s broad daylight! There should be no excuses for you all not being able to track him down!”
The lead guard from earlier, battered and mud-streaked from the failed chase, stepped forward. Armor dented, helmet skewed, he lowered his head in a bow. “Your Majesty… Prince Charlos, they were—”
“They were too fast and too efficient! We have many men injured and—” he began.
“To hell with the men!” Charlos snapped, cutting him off. His voice echoed in the chamber like steel striking stone. “I want my money! Do you hear me? My money! Every last coin!”
A tense silence filled the hall, broken only by the distant sound of banners rustling in the breeze that swept through the open windows. Then, from the shadowed end of the hall, a measured voice called out.
“Patience is a virtue, Your Majesty.”
Heads turned as footsteps echoed deliberately against the marble, slow and precise. Sheriff Lucci emerged, tall, imposing, his dark coat brushing the floor with every step. His expression was calm, almost unnervingly so, but the air of authority radiating from him demanded attention.
“So what if they took another wagon?” Lucci said, stopping several paces from the throne. His voice was low, confident, almost predatory. “We’ll simply continue to raise the taxes. We’ll keep luring them out. They may have won another battle, Prince Charlos—but mark my words… they haven’t won the war.”
Charlos’ eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring with anger. “Bold words, Lucci. Very bold,” he said, his tone dripping with disdain. “You are the sheriff of this city, entrusted with its security. Yet another wagon has been stolen under your watch. The fault lies squarely with you!”
Lucci inclined his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I am aware of the failures, Your Majesty. But consider this—the men you send can never match the cunning of the Straw Hat and his crew. Speed, unpredictability, chaos… these are advantages that even your finest soldiers cannot overcome without falling into the traps they set for themselves.”
Charlos slammed a fist against the armrest, the force echoing through the room. “I care not for cleverness! I care for results!"
The throne room was still thick with tension, the echoes of Charlos’ fury lingering in the vaulted chamber. Even in his anger, the prince radiated authority—a man used to having his every whim obeyed. Lucci stood tall, a picture of calm control, hands clasped behind his back, eyes never leaving Charlos’ intense glare.
“Prince Charlos,” Lucci said, his voice measured and unwavering, “I understand your frustration, but know this: my men and I remain entirely loyal. Every soldier in this city is devoted to your command. None shall fail you willingly.”
Charlos’ nostrils flared, but a flicker of satisfaction crossed his features at Lucci’s unwavering loyalty. “Endearing words, Lucci. But words are not enough. Every coin lost is a stain on my rule! Do you understand?!”
“I do,” Lucci replied. “And I am devising a plan. Do not fret, Your Majesty. I am working on straightening the kinks in our defenses. The Straw Hat and his companions are clever, yes—but cleverness alone cannot withstand preparation, patience, and precision. When the trap is laid… they will be caught.”
Charlos leaned back, fingers drumming the armrests. A slow, deliberate smile crept across his face. “Very well. Be gone now, Lucci. Return to your men and prepare. Fail me not.”
Lucci inclined his head sharply. “As you command, Your Majesty.” With a fluid, silent step, he turned and left, leaving only the faint echo of his boots against the marble.
Charlos slumped back into the throne, fingers tracing the gold-embossed armrests. “All this bad news… it has worked up an appetite,” he muttered, voice almost conversational now. “Tell the kitchen staff to prepare dinner.”
A servant hesitated, bowing quickly. “Your Highness… you just had lunch.”
Charlos’ eyes blazed. “AND WHAT OF IT! GO NOW! AND BE SURE THE LADIES IN THE CASTLE WILL BE THERE TOO!”
The servant bowed frantically and scurried off, the echo of hurried footsteps fading into the corridors.
Charlos’ gaze drifted to the wall beside his throne, where a gilded portrait of himself hung in all its glory. He rose from the throne, every movement deliberate, and stepped closer. The flickering candlelight caught the gold embroidery of his robe, and he smiled, his fingers brushing the ornate frame.
“Ah… yes,” he murmured, voice low and reverent. “The most handsome man who has ever held this throne. Far more regal than that silly little Shanks ever looked.”
He circled the portrait, studying the painted eyes that seemed to mirror his own ambition. “Do you remember, Shanks? How you fumbled through what should have been your inheritance? How you treated every common street rat as if they were equal? How you attempted to erase this land's divide of power? I remember everything. Every mistake, every moment of weakness, every foolish grandeur of charity. And I… I took what was rightfully mine.”
Charlos’ lips curved into a sly, triumphant smile. “I seized the throne with precision—never hastily, never foolishly. And then… oh, the delight—I spread the stories, the whispers, the lies about your supposed wrongdoing, your cruelty. And once I took your throne, I took your niece. I have ensured that you will live the rest of your life in hiding, never to challenge me. You are forgotten now, Shanks, and I remain the rightful ruler.”
He leaned closer to the portrait, fingers tracing the gilded edge. “You never did appreciate all the luxuries of royal life… but don’t worry. I will. I will savor everything, especially the finer tastes.”
His eyes shifted to the adjacent portrait, and the air seemed to change in the room. He straightened, nearly breathless, as his gaze fell upon the delicate image of Lady Nami Marian of the Tangerine Coast. The light from the tall windows illuminated her porcelain skin, her hair cascading like a river of fire, and her eyes sparkling with intelligence and kindness. She was the niece of the late queen, Shanks' wife, a woman celebrated across the land for both her beauty and her grace.
Charlos’ voice softened, almost reverent, as he stepped closer. “Oh… my sweet Marian. I will grow close to you. I will ensure you never lack for care or attention. And in time… you will belong to me.”
The late afternoon sun bathed the royal gardens in a warm, golden glow. Tangerine trees stretched in neat rows, their branches heavy with bright fruit that gleamed like little suns against the deep green leaves. Birds flitted from branch to branch, filling the air with their gentle songs, and a soft breeze carried the scent of citrus and earth.
Nami walked slowly along the cobblestone path, her fingers brushing lightly against the tangerines as she passed. Her eyes sparkled, reflecting the sunlight as she smiled. Behind her, her lady in waiting, Lady Nico Robin mirrored her steps with quiet elegance, hands folded delicately in front of her.
“Robin,” Nami said, tilting her head toward one particularly bountiful tree, “it seems some of the tangerines are ready to be picked.”
Robin’s blue eyes followed the branch, and a faint smile curved her lips. “They do look ripe,” she said softly. “Perhaps we could gather some for the evening meal… or for the children in the village tomorrow.”
Nami nodded, crouching slightly to examine a perfectly plump fruit. “Yes… the people will enjoy them. They need it now more than ever.”
At a distance, Sir Jinbe—her ever-watchful bodyguard—stood beneath the shade of a marble pergola. His broad frame was relaxed, but his eyes never strayed from the two women. Every visitor, every movement in the gardens, was cataloged in his mind. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword, ready should anything threaten them, though he trusted the peaceful scene for now.
Nami plucked a tangerine, holding it in her hand as she inhaled its citrusy fragrance. “It’s almost like magic,” she said, smiling at Robin. “How something so small can bring so much joy.”
Robin tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “Yes… much like courage, or a kind deed. The smallest acts can brighten even the darkest places.”
Nami’s fingers traced the smooth surface of the tangerine as she looked out across the grove. “It… it actually makes me feel like I’m doing a difference,” she said softly, voice tinged with both hope and worry. “With the prince continually raising taxes, I don’t think many families will be able to feed their young. And what happens when winter hits? What will become of them, Robin?”
Robin’s faint smile deepened, her eyes calm yet brimming with quiet resolve. “Fret not, my lady. You are not the only one out there fighting for the people.”
Nami’s gaze lifted, brows knitting with a mixture of curiosity and awe. “Are you… referring to Robin of the Straw Hat and his Laughing Men?”
Robin inclined her head ever so slightly, the corners of her lips tugging upward. “Perhaps. But tell me… why are they the first to come to your mind?”
Nami’s fingers traced the edge of a tangerine, her eyes drifting across the sun-dappled garden. “Because… because they do what I wish I could,” she said softly. “They stand up to the prince. They protect the people… make sure families can eat, even when the taxes are unbearable. Even when the guards are everywhere, even when the city watches. They do what’s right, no matter the danger.”
Her gaze shifted to Robin, eyes earnest. “Straw Hat is an admirable man, no matter how much the prince tries to brand him a filthy criminal… drags his name through the mud, just as he did with my uncle.”
Robin chuckled softly, a low, knowing sound. “Careful, my lady. You would not want words like that reaching His Grace’s ears.”
Nami let out a short, bitter laugh. “Robin… who here will tell? You are trapped here as much as I am. Charlos’s excuse, that I must remain in the castle so he can protect me… the nonsense about those who would retaliate against my uncle, using me as a pawn… all of it. And Sir Jinbe, though his oath is sworn to whoever holds the throne, his heart remains loyal to my uncle. We are all… prisoners of ‘Prince Charlos the Lesser.’”
Robin’s gaze softened, almost imperceptibly. “Then we must be clever in our resistance. Even within these walls, there are ways to fight. Courage is not always loud, my lady.”
Nami exhaled, letting her fingers brush the tangerine once more. “Quiet or loud… I'm just grateful someone out there is giving the people hope.”
Robin smiled gently, her eyes glinting with certainty. “It seems that sometimes, hope wears a straw hat.”
From the shade of the pergola, Sir Jinbe stepped forward, his heavy boots silent on the cobblestones. “M’Lady,” he said, voice steady and respectful, “Prince Charlos requests your presence… he has called for a second lunch.”
Nami’s eyes narrowed, incredulous. “A second lunch?! How preposterous! His people are starving, yet he indulges himself in—”
Jinbe cleared his throat gently, his hand sweeping toward a servant lurking at the edge of the garden, silently waiting to escort them to the throne room. The slight gesture reminded Nami of the walls that bound her here, the carefully constructed rules she could not break without consequence.
She exhaled, letting her frustration melt into a measured composure. Straightening her shoulders, she gave a faint nod to Robin. “Very well… let us be on our way.”
Robin’s lips curved into a small, understanding smile, but she remained silent, walking beside Nami as they followed Jinbe toward the castle. The tangerine-scented breeze lingered behind them, a fleeting reminder of the freedom the garden offered—a freedom that seemed just out of reach within these gilded walls.
The dining hall was vast, sunlight streaming through tall windows and glinting off the polished silverware and crystal glasses that lined the long table. At one end sat Prince Charlos, draped in finery that emphasized both wealth and power, his posture commanding even in the casual ease of a meal. At the opposite end, Nami and Robin sat demurely, their hands resting on the table, the delicate china before them untouched for the moment. Along the walls, Sir Jinbe stood like a silent sentinel, eyes vigilant, hand lightly resting on the hilt of his sword.
Charlos’ gaze roamed the hall until it settled on Nami, and a coo escaped his lips. “My dear Lady Marian, you are so far away!”
Nami brought a small sip of tea to her lips, her tone calm and precise. “It is formal etiquette for the table to be arranged this way, Your Grace.”
“Etiquette matters not to me!” Charlos snapped, a gleam of self-importance in his eyes. “I am the one sitting on the throne, and I say it matters only how I wish it!”
Before anyone could respond, he waved a hand toward a nearby servant. “Move her chair. Plates as well. Right next to me. Now!”
Robin’s hand lifted, a faint note of alarm in her voice. “Your Grace, she is still unmarried. It is not proper for her to—”
“It is an order!” Charlos thundered, his voice echoing through the hall. The sudden authority silenced everyone, the clinking of utensils and murmured conversations halting instantly.
Nami’s lips pressed into a thin line, her fingers curling around the edge of her cup. She rose with quiet composure, eyes meeting Charlos’ briefly, and then allowed the servants to guide her chair closer to the prince. She lowered herself onto the new seat, her posture perfect, betraying none of the irritation curling in her chest.
Charlos leaned back slightly, a self-satisfied smile tugging at his lips, clearly pleased with the obedience displayed. Nami lifted her teacup once more, taking a careful sip as the room seemed to settle into a tense, strained quiet—each heartbeat echoing with the unspoken knowledge that in Charlos’ eyes, power outweighed propriety, and she was trapped by both.
He leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand, eyes gleaming with a mixture of admiration and amusement. “You look even more lovely today than the last, my dear Lady Marian. My servant has told me you have spent the day in the gardens?”
Nami set her cup down. “The weather has been beautiful. Only a fool would keep themselves inside and not enjoy the sun while it lasts.”
Charlos laughed, a rich, self-satisfied sound that echoed through the hall. “You are quite witty! Tell me… which subject in the garden catches your eye the most? The roses? The tulips? Perhaps I shall see to it that more are planted, just so you may admire them! Anything to make you happy!”
Her expression remained composed, though a faint crease appeared between her brows. “I care not for more flowers. Besides… it were the tangerine trees that struck me most.”
Charlos’ eyes brightened, and he clapped his hands together with glee. “Excellent! Then we shall plant ten more—no, one hundred! I shall give you an entire grove of tangerine trees, so that you may enjoy them at your leisure!”
“That will not be necessary, Your Grace. I believe there is already an abundance of fruit," Nami’s lips pressed into a thin line, as she ran her thumb along the edge of her teacup. And… speaking of which, I do not think we will be able to eat them all before they spoil. It would be better—far better—to share them… with the townsfolk."
She moved her eyes to meet his in a steady gaze, maintaining her composure. "I would like to go out tomorrow and give out some tangerines to the hungry.”
For a long moment, Charlos’ gaze lingered on Nami, his expression unreadable. Then, abruptly, a loud, infectious laugh erupted from him, echoing off the high walls of the hall. The servants paused mid-step, Robin gasped, silverware rattled slightly against the china, and even Sir Jinbe’s hand tensed on the hilt of his sword.
Charlos wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “Oh, my lady… you are as humorous as you are beautiful!”
Nami’s lips pressed into a thin line, her tone firm and measured. “I am quite serious, Your Grace. Your people deserve—”
Charlos waved a dismissive hand, his laughter fading into a sharp edge. “And what have the townsfolk given us that they should deserve anything? Why, they cannot even pay their taxes properly! It has been months since I received the coinage owed to me. If anything, they are in debt to me! I owe them nothing—especially not the fruits that grow in my soil!”
Nami’s eyes narrowed, a glare so sharp it could have cut glass.
At the same time, a servant stepped closer, bowing slightly before tapping Charlos on the shoulder. “Um… Your Grace?”
Charlos whipped around, voice rising. “What is it?! Can you not see that I am in the middle of my meal?!”
The servant leaned in, voice lowered to a careful whisper. “Your Grace… if I may, I would like to offer some counsel. It is your intention to win the affections of Lady Marian so you may wed, is it not?”
Charlos’ eyes flickered with pride, and he whispered back, “Why, yes, it is.”
The servant’s voice remained soft, almost conspiratorial. “Then it would be wise… to let her indulge in her desires.”
Charlos’ brow furrowed, his whisper sharp. “And why should I? That is a foolish notion!”
“Foolish as it may be,” the servant continued, voice barely above the rustle of silk, “allowing the lady to act on her intentions—sharing with the townsfolk, helping those in need—may let her see you in a warmer light. Perhaps then… she will finally come to admire you as you wish.”
Charlos’ jaw tightened. He leaned back, eyes narrowing into thoughtful slits, lips pressing into a thin, calculating line. The laughter had vanished, replaced with a flicker of something far sharper—a mixture of intrigue, vanity, and impatience.
Charlos leaned back slightly, a calculated smile curling at the corners of his lips. “Forgive me, my lady, for my outburst. You know how stressful it has been—having to rule while contending with that band of foolish robbers. And it is only because I care for your safety so. I do not think it wise for you to stroll amongst the town; why, I would not be there to protect a single hair on your pretty little head.”
He leaned forward, gaze lingering on her, voice dropping to a softer, coaxing tone. “But… I see how much this means to you. Very well. I shall allow it—just this once. You shall take Lady Nico and Sir Jinbe to accompany you. Remember, I am only doing this because it was you who asked.”
Charlos’ hand slowly reached toward hers, eyes gleaming with expectation. “You see, I cannot bear the thought that you may harbor frustration toward me. And perhaps… when you return from the town, you may—”
In a flash, Nami’s hand lifted her teacup, tilting it just so. Hot tea spilled across his extended fingers. Charlos yelped, jerking his hand back, smoke almost rising from the sudden burn.
“Oh! Forgive me, Your Grace!” Nami said, her voice soft, eyes wide with mock concern. “It was entirely my fault… such clumsiness on my part.”
Charlos waved his hand, the sharpness in his features softening. “Ah… yes, of course. Accidents happen.” He shook off the discomfort, though a faint red hue lingered on his fingers.
Nami allowed herself a small, polite smile, standing gracefully. “I am… quite satisfied now. May I take my leave?”
Charlos nodded, regaining his composure, though a flicker of surprise—and perhaps admiration—lingered in his eyes. “Yes… yes, you may go. I shall see you for dinner.”
With that, Nami took her leave, Jinbe and Robin getting up and following in her step.
