Post by Lord Bromosalino on Mar 17, 2020 1:18:55 GMT -5
0200 Hours
As dark blue waves lapped onto the red mahogany frame of "The Little Cissonius," a single, solitary figure stood at the front of the bow, his eye entirely focused on the dancing stars overhead. The man had spent the majority of his life on the seas and, though he was no navigator, he had learned enough in that time to understand what the merchant ship was undergoing as it danced atop the water. Watching the stars and searching for the correct constellation, former Lieutenant Junior Grade Isaac Saifer fixed his gaze onto the three stars that were pinned onto the black backdrop of the night sky. The northern most of the three lights hung directly ahead, shining brightly the path that lay ahead. The Grandis Saggita, like the arrow it was named for, never wavered or moved from its place; its guiding light having provided safe passage for such travelers since the beginning of time.
The captain of the vessel, a much more elderly, stout man named Nikolai Imbros, however had no such use for the constellations. The man had almost a sixth sense for navigation and could read the waves and seas as easily as he could read a book. Combined with his savvy business intuition, the man had been able to become among the most successful merchants of the Grand Line; able to traverse the dangerous seas with his uncanny sailing abilities. While he had not spent his life watching the stars like his passenger, Captain Imbros had other means; specifically the log poses that were able to lock onto the different magnetic fields of the different islands. And now at the age of fifty six with much of that time being spent traversing the Grand Line (and specifically the Hawk Route), Nikolai almost seemed to have a natural ability to follow the magnetic fields of the ocean without the use of such poses; though he always had one handy, just in case.
And though he claimed to have no use for the compass like devices, Captain Imbros had, in his many years as a merchant, obtained an Eternal Log pose for every island in the Hawk Route that he could call upon in a pinch. Each pose was placed carefully into a slot that had been carved directly into "The Little Cissonius," where whoever was at the helm of the nimble caravel could easily and quickly glance at and reference. The eternal log pose that the aging Captain was interested in was the Stronghair Island and the Marchen Kingdom that was found there. The island was famous for, as its name implied, being filled with both humans and terrifying beasts with extremely powerful hair. And despite the harsh conditions of the island, the people of the Marchen Kingdom had created a cultivating and thriving populace and market. And if there was beri to be earned and merchandise to be traded and bartered for, Captain Imbros was sure to have cultivated his own relationship with the people of the island.
Like the island of Bupae, King Edebert Berhaart VI had maintained the position of his ancestors and remained neutral in the world affairs. The people of Marchen Kingdom had elected to remain free, something that came with a level of autonomy and power in the global economy that they greatly enjoyed. And as Nikolai was not bound to the World Government market or economy, he was a familiar and welcomed face to the isolated island. As the island was known for its incredible hospitality, the merchant always made it a point to visit the island at every opportunity and further the friendship he had built with King Berhaart VI over the last twenty or so years.
However, despite Captain Nikolai's exceptional skill in navigating the high seas, traversing the different islands of the Grand Line was still a difficult task that required great care. Leaving the burning and destroyed island of Bupae behind, "The Little Cissonius" skipped expertly across the blue waves with haste. And when the much younger Isaac Saifer came thundering down the docks and pushed the crew to leave the port as quickly as possible, the merchant Captain took his plea with genuine concern. He had brought the Marine to the island and had even attempted to dissuade the man from setting foot, much less spend time, on the corrupt island. At the time, he was making preparations to leave the island when he heard the loud boom and saw the smoke rising from the center of the island. And when he saw Isaac running hard towards the ports, Nikolai knew it was time to go...and quickly.
And so they left. And though Isaac and Captain Imbros had become good friends as Isaac had voyaged with the crew of the "The Little Cissonius" from Alabasta to Bupae, the former Marine had remained quiet, unwilling to discuss what had happened. It was in truth, quite strange considering the past two weeks that had passed between the two. Countless hours on the seas had to be passed somehow. And the two vastly different men (both in age and upbringing) had found a common interest and love in books and philosophy. Hours and hours had been spent in the Captain's office as they engaged in healthy conversations and debates about the world at large. But in the two days that they had spent back on the oceans. What happened on Bupae? was the Captain's thought as he turned over the reigns of the vessel to his second in command.
While Captain Imbros had been busy maintaining the merchant vessel's course, the quiet Marine remained at the bow of "The Little Cissonius" in deep thought. It had been two days. Two agonizing weeks stuck on a wooden ship. He couldn't act. He couldn't move. All he could do was plan...and wait. As such, Isaac Saifer was, for a lack of better words, full of angst. He had never been one to sit on his laurels when there was work to be done. He knew what he needed to do and he wanted to act. Gripping the railings, the eye patched Marine leaned forward in anticipation of what was inevitably to come. "James," growled the young man under his breath, his knuckles turning white from his grasp. However, as much as he wished for things to be different, he could not push the ship along through his sheer will and eagerness.
“If you’re going after James Hideki, you better get stronger in the meantime.” With Pluto's final warning in mind, Isaac turned on his heel and began moving towards his cabin. Isaac never saw the battle between the strange boy and the second in command of the Hideki family. In fact, it hardly looked as if a fight of any kind took place. The white haired commander was bloody, beaten down, and utterly broken. Pluto, on the other hand, had not so much as dropped a sweat. And though Isaac too had completed his part of the operation unscathed, his violet eyed companion had warned him that Isaac was still not up to snuff. Pluto had seen the former Marine fight and win; and he still thought it was not enough to keep up. Though Pluto was his younger by several years, Isaac had taken his words seriously.
Pluto had been the one to defeat the immensely powerful Kory Hideki. He was the one that cut a multi story, steel structure in half. He even held the rare ability to use Haki, the ability to project his ambition into the physical world. And during their time together, shy as Pluto was, Isaac suspected that he had seen only a glimpse of his true power. And though he held the belief that Pluto was a high ranking Revolutionary, Isaac, the staunch Marine (despite the sabbatical he might currently have been on), took his words in high regard and with the utmost respect. And so Isaac would need to become much stronger if he hoped to take on the patriarch of the Red Sparrows, the evil governing body of Bupae Island. The question was, how?
The young Marine officer was never the biggest or strongest. At six feet, one inch and two-hundred twenty five pounds, the one thing Isaac was above all else (physically) was normal. Yes, he was an athlete, martial artist, and a soldier. And his body indeed told that story from the scars he carried to his well built frame. But he was still at his core just a man. He was not a physical monster like the different human variants that the Marines often employed. He did not have a Devil Fruit that turned him into a monster like the Admirals. He had, though he had tried, been unable to awaken his own ambition. The advantage he held, often, over his opponents was his mind. Often called a genius by his superiors and training officers, Isaac seemed to have a steel trap when it came to combat and tactics. His success in battles and operations came from his meticulous planning, his knowledge and studies of various strategies employed by great leaders, and most importantly is ability to think calmly in the midst of battle and shift his strategy and tactics to fit the current need.
But, would increasing his mental faculties take him to that "next level" that would be needed to cut off the head of the snake? He doubted it greatly. No, he would need to increase his physical abilities and sharpen his combat prowess to a level far beyond where it currently was. And so, for the second time this early morning, Isaac returned to his cabin with that goal in mind. Pushing the large oak door open, a humble room presented itself to the wandering Marine. A single narrow bed was pushed into the furthest corner directly underneath a window, its blankets neatly folded with no visible creases. A small, simple table and single chair were tucked neatly into the other corner along the same wall. The face of the table was aglow in the slowly dimming light of a lamp lit ablaze by a candle. A great lover of books, Isaac, not on his own vessel or home, could only bring one book as he was travelling light.
And the one book Isaac went back to time and time again was none other than Of Veracity and Virtue; a philosophical study centered around the classic questions good and evil, free will and determinism, and the nature of the human soul. The small yet hefty, dark green leather bound book had been left open to the third chapter, "Meaning and Purpose." Next to the timeless classic was another equally plain leather bound book, this one a deep brown in color. This was perhaps his most closely guarded possession, a journal that he regularly (as regularly as he could) kept; it was a refuge to jot down not only his ideas but his inner most thoughts. It was a welcomed friend on his lonely travels.
Isaac draped his Marine officer's coat (which more closely resembled a bomber jacket rather than a trench coat to be worn as a cloak) with great care over the lightly colored chair for safekeeping. His jacket was, after all, the only reminder of his time as a Marine. Revealing a much more simple and humble attire of a black tank top and black combat pants, the innocuous Marine prepared for the second workout of his day. Moving into the center of the cabin, which was empty and devoid of furniture, Isaac began stretching in preparation, taking the time to let his muscles and joints feel the tension he was placing on his body. Satisfied that he could begin his workout without hurting himself, the man began. Without weights or equipment of any kind, Isaac began a circuit of several body weight exercises; squats, push-ups, and the like. Finishing one rotation, Isaac immediately launched into another set following a short break.
"Phew." Taking in a deep breath through his nostrils, the now sweating Isaac held the air inside of his lungs for several seconds before slowly letting it pass through his mouth. It was a fairly simple technique, but quite effective in slowing ones heartbeat; something he had used with great proficiency on the battle field and on the training mats. Checking the nondescript watch that was wrapped around his left wrist, Isaac was shocked to find that the time now read 0416 hours (4:16am). Though it was not unusual for him, he found himself spacing out and his mind blank during the course of the exercise. It was, in truth, very emblematic of the man; that same intense focus and a slavish devotion to the task at hand seemed to define him.
Pulling out the neatly tucked chair, Isaac sat at the table as he continued to take in deep breaths. Though his body, and mind, ached for sleep, Isaac knew tonight would be another sleepless night. It would, in fact, be the third night in a row without sleep. His body, he knew, could be put to bed. The problem was his mind. Isaac was restless, even after a healthy, sweat inducing workout. There was something about the time after a mission that kept the man from the much needed rest his body craved. But, this was not a new sensation. Isaac's mind and body went through this rotation after every operation he took part of. Though this particular mission went according to plan and without injury to himself or his partners, Isaac's every analytical mind could not help but go through each and every aspect of the operation; the planning, the movements, the timing, the communication, everything. Everything had to be analyzed dozens of times. No operation was perfect. No mission was carried out without a hitch. No plan was without fault. And for someone like Isaac, that was torture.
Isaac had spent nearly every portion of his time as a Marine as an officer and leader in some capacity. Whether it was his time as a Warrant Officer with only a handful of soldiers under his command or his time as the second command of the 15th Division, Blackwatch, Isaac had been entrusted with the lives and safety of others, not just his own. And though Pluto, Rebecca, and Ara were not his crew-mates or even really his friends, Isaac still felt that it was his moral duty to ensure their safety during their time on Bupae. He would not let the failures of S.H.I.E.L.D or Blackwatch repeat themselves. He had lost too many friends and Marines during his long tenure with the organization. And though the strange group had completed their self-assigned task on the corrupt island seemingly without a hitch, the thought that the much younger trio could have in anyway been hurt haunted Isaac's thoughts. It was in fact his greatest fear, to fail again.
But perhaps what scared the former Marine more was that the plan did, surprisingly, go according to plan, almost perfectly. Perfection was, or in theory should be, unattainable. Perfection was not the goal, it was the enemy. It meant that there was no where else to go. There could be no progress. And if there was anything Isaac desired, it was to be engaged in the relentless pursuit of the ever moving, ever expanding finish line that he knew he could never hope to reach. That being said, Isaac was unsure of how he would go about accomplishing that next step. He was, in sporting terms, a peak athlete with little more that he could accomplish in terms of physical abilities. He would have to go beyond... somehow.
Knowing that lying in the bed, which was more akin to a cot, that had been provided would be useless, Isaac settled into the chair. Leaning back in the chair until the back hit the wall, feet up on the table, the ever learning Isaac picked up the green book eager to finish the chapter he had started. Though he was an extremely quick reader, he, as he usually did when tackling a book of this complexity, found himself reading much, much slower in order to truly digest the concepts that the unknown author was discussing. "Hmm," muttered the exhausted man as he scribbled a note in his journal; Isaac held too much respect for the written word and would never deface a masterpiece such as this with his own humble thoughts. You have power over your mind - not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength. "How very true," murmured Isaac into the night.0700 Hours
"Good morning Lieutenant," came the gruff, almost raspy voice from somewhere above. Former Lieutenant Junior Grade (which Captain Imbros always left out) Saifer had just stepped outside and was taking a few seconds to adjust his eyes from the dimly lit lantern to the now natural bright shine of the sun overhead. On the deck above was none other than Captain Imbros who, despite piloting his vessel into the early morning, had taken his place at the helm once more after a few hours rest. After all, there was always work to be done on a ship of any kind on the seas. It was not all fun and adventure as any wishful story might like to depict. And this wonderfully sunny day was no different. Though the caravel was small both in construction and crew, there was constant maintenance to be considered while stocks and wares were checked and double checked once more. As his father had taught him at a young age, Nikolai Imbros lived with the idea that if he was not making money, he was losing money. Efficiency, in his world, was king.
"Good morning Captain," replied Isaac as his eyes adjusted to the blinding light. "I trust you had a pleasant night?" he continued, though they both knew that neither had gotten much sleep; and in Isaac's case, none at all. "Pleasant enough." Replying with his usual jolly smile on his face, Nikolai did not even ask about his voyager's night as he already knew the answer. "You see that," asked the balding man as he pointed into the distance at a speck in the distance. "That's the Stronghair Island, home of the Marchen Kingdom." Bounding up the stairs of the deck to join the Captain of the merchant vessel at the wheel, Isaac strained his one remaining eye (as the other was destroyed and now covered by a black eye patch) in the direction the older man was pointing towards. "How long..." "Two days," he answered quickly, cutting off Isaac before he could finish his question.
Sensing the impending question, Captain Imbros motioned for Mikanos (his second in command) to take charge of the brisk caravel that was making good timing as it rolled over the deep blue waves. "Let's go to my cabin. I need breakfast." Nodding in agreement, Isaac led the way across the top of the deck, opening the bright red oak door that was the entrance to the Captain's cabin. "After you Captain," allowing the more senior man to take the first step into his cabin, Isaac followed behind, taking care to close the door.
The Captain's cabin was not unlike the one provided for the one eyed Marine. Rather than one single room, the cabin was split into a large room with a doorway leading into a much smaller bathroom. Like Isaac's own rented cabin, a single bed was pushed into the corner. However, the middle of the room was not left completely bare. A large red fern desk took up the majority of the room. Like Isaac, Captain Imbros was an extraordinarily neat and organized individual; something that made it easy for the two to become friends quickly. Folders, books, and papers were each placed in neat stacks across the desk. In the top right corner of the work space was an ink pad and several quills. Right in the middle of the desk was a massive leather book that Isaac assumed to be the inventory log and money book of "The Little Cissonius."
"What can you tell me about the Marchen Kingdom," began Isaac, not even having completely sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk. Captain Imbros, who had seated himself in his red leather chair at the head of the desk, laughed at the boy's (in comparison to his own age) eagerness. "Coffee?" Offering a plain black cup of coffee to the man, learning in the last several weeks that the young Isaac preferred his coffee in the same way as he preferred his clothing; dark and simple. Though he knew that the Marine had many questions, Nikolai also knew that the young man respected his elder and would not press the issue further until the Captain was ready.
"This is from the Organ Islands, notice the citrus acidity in the taste." The medium roast coffee did indeed have notes of lemon in it. It told of an island with high altitude and rich soil. It was quite nice, something which Isaac noted and appreciated as he was a coffee lover. Cupping the warm ceramic mug in his hands, Isaac took in the smell. It was, in his words, one of the most soothing smells in the world. It was simple, just a bean. But it was refreshing, both in taste and in aroma. It stopped the craziness of his mind for just a moment, allowing him to enjoy what was in front of him for a change. "Ahhh, this might be my favorite yet, Captain." And considering that the head of "The Little Cissonius," another avid coffee lover, had well over two hundred different flavors he had collected across his many years on the seas, that was quite a compliment to the rich bean from the Organ Islands. He logged the island in the back of his mind, somewhere in the East Blue if he was not mistaken. Isaac would certainly visit the island one day; if they produced this kind of coffee, the island must be something special.
"You know, Ede has cultivated perhaps the best coffee beans I've ever tasted." Seeing the quizzical look cross Isaac's face, Nikolai explained who the strange, and never before mentioned, Ede was. "I suppose to the rest of the world he's known by his formal name, King Edelbert Berhaart VI. But to the people of Marchen, he's simply Ede. Good man, too," he added with a smile on his face. The King of Marchen was, truly, a good man. Exactly ten years Nikolai's junior, the ruler of the island was a both a King and a man of the people. A skilled politician and fearsome foe to face. Regal in every way, even when on his hands and knees working with the "common" folk. He had become one of Nikolai's best of friends. In fact, Isaac seemed to remind Captain Imbros of Ede. There was little doubt in the Captain's mind that his new friend would get along nicely with the King.
"Marchen is," continued Imbros, "a strange place. The island itself seems to have a vendetta against everyone who lives there and it feels as if it is always trying to kill you. But, " he ended with a wild grin on his face, "you would never know it by the looks on the people's face." With a hearty laugh, caused by his memories of adventures past on the island, Nikolai continued. "Something about the water there, makes people's hair...unique. And not just the citizens, but the animals too. And they're fierce to be sure." Though he did not fully understand it, he attempted to explain the strange phenomenon as best as he could to Isaac (who for his part sat silently).
"It's something to do with a mineral I believe," explained the aging Captain. Whether mineral or vitamin, there was something in the natural springs of the island that strengthened and fortified the resident's, and animal's, hair to such a degree that it became something like steel. Because of this, the people of the aptly named Stronghair Island took great pride in their hair. It had become a national symbol; with the greatest among them being those with the longest and most lush hair imaginable. Nikolai, having been taught (or at least attempted to be taught) by his good friend Ede, tried to explain the Kingdom's national martial art to Isaac first. It was called Life Return, if he remembered correctly. Those of the island had learned to not only manipulate but also fight with their empowered follicles, using it to grab, punch, and protect each other with. That was, as he also explained to the fascinated young man, what made the animals of the island so dangerous; they too had hardened hair that covered the entirety of their bodies and were also able to manipulate the hair to a certain degree.
"There are monster trolls and large wolves everywhere. But, the people live peaceful, happy lives." Though he had never seen the trolls in the wild, Nikolai thought fondly back to the first time he had seen one such troll hanged and stuffed on a wall in one of the many bars in the capital city, Haarupstaad. "Trolls?" asked the dumbstruck Isaac. He had seen, and fought, fishmen, giants, and even those of the Longarm tribe. But he had never heard of trolls before. That certainly piqued his interest. "Mmhmm," was the only sound Nikolai responded with, sipping on his own cup of coffee. "I'm telling you Lieutenant, Marchen is a fascinating place." "Well then Captain, I can't wait to see it."
"Land ho!"
As the rich baritone of second mate Mikanos boomed across the decks of "The Little Cissonius," all hands rushed to their predetermined spot and location to bring in the nimble caravan. Isaac too, though he was not a part of the crew, assisted; grabbing the edge of the largest sail. He had, after all, grown up and become a man on the high seas. It would be unheard of and even laughable if he did not know how to work a vessel. Grabbing hold of the top edge, Isaac showed a much younger member of the crew (Nikolai's grandnephew if he was not mistaken) the intricacy and proper way to fold a sail. The younger boy was no more than thirteen years of age but had more than enough spirit and energy to make up for his diminutive stature. "Good job, just like that," praised Isaac as the two folded the sail neatly in an accordion style, laying each new fold on top of each other so that it could easily and quickly be unfurled. The young boy was really no longer a boy in Isaac's mind; the seas were no such place for children. Scrawny, yes. But full of vigor and with enough callouses on his hand that he was quickly becoming a man in the seasoned Marine's eyes. "Don't fold the flaps directly on the last one, leave a little space," instructed the watchful eye patch wearing man, happy to see the blooming young man take in the instruction and quickly make the necessary adjustments.
"Like this?" Young Georgie asked about his folding, clenching his teeth as he folded the thick, heavy tarp in tandem with Isaac. His eyes were, however, on the Marine. He had started to admire Isaac in the last few weeks; he was strong, big, and very kind. He was like his uncle Nikolai, a man's man of the sea. "Yup, just like that," praised Isaac as his long fingers worked the white tarp. As they finished and the once wide sail was folded into a thin sheet, the two placed the main sail into a wooden box intended to protect the sail from unnecessary wear and tear. "Thanks for the help Isaac!" Rushing across the deck to help the rest of the crew tether the caravel to the beach, Georgie was eager to make land; the Marchen Kingdom was among his favorite, perhaps his very favorite, of places to visit. Isaac too was eager to make land; the sooner they gathered supplies, the sooner they could leave.
Captain Imbros, however, made it quite clear that he was not in a rush to leave the shores of the Stronghair Island as quickly as Isaac may have hoped. "My friend! Arms stretched out and booming his voice across the sand, Nikolai's usual cheery demeanor became even more, if that was possible, joyous at the sight of a procession approaching the landing party. That same attitude was shared by the twenty members of "The Little Cissonius," laughing and fondly remembering their prior experiences and adventures on the island. As the group of approximately thirty native residents neared, Nikolai began pointing out the different important figures to the stranger of the island.
"That's Ede, the King." Pointing towards a large man at the head of the procession, Nikolai indicated who the King of the island was; a man who hardly appeared to differ from other royal families that Isaac had seen. In fact, a member of a noble family himself, Isaac could see immediately that the full figured royal was unlike other's and even more so unlike the the World Nobles. Even from a short distance, Isaac could see that King Edebert Berhaart VI was well over a head taller than he was and many several pounds heavier than the lean Marine. He was by no means out of shape. Instead, he was broad shouldered and had a wide barrel chest. But, what stood out the most was the sleek black hair that was tied up in a ponytail with the hair parting and framing the side of his similarly cheerful face. The hair, if let loose from its place, would have passed well to the man's legs. Remembering the Captain's prior statement that those of the Marchen Kingdom took great pride in their hair, it made sense that the King of this government would have perhaps some of the most lush and lengthy hair.
"And that's Ede's sister, Seiglein Grimm." Explaining the difference of surnames, as Seighlein was not married, Nikolai informed Isaac that the younger sister of the King was the General of the famed Grimm Brotherhood. Tasked with protecting the people of Marchen from the fearsome beasts of the island, the General looked every bit the part. While the majority of the procession was dressed in frills and more "proper" clothing, Seiglein wore tight black leather pants and a much looser black and red buttoned up shirt. On her back, Seiglein wore her famed, according to Nikolai, crossbow that had been the cause of death for many creatures. Still a member of the royal family and an inhabitant of the Stronghair Island, Seighlein, too, had impressively long hair that matched her brother's pitch black hair in coloration. Wrapped in a bun with a skull ornament (the symbol of the Grimm Brotherhood, explained Nikolai), the General too took great pride in the status and appearance of her hair.
"Oh look, the Princess is here too. She's the second born of Ede." Unlike her father and aunt, Princess Rapunn Berhaart bore blonde hair that rivaled shone brightly in the light of the sun. Wearing a sky blue dress, the young Princess skipped in between the different members of the approaching procession, laughing and dancing with anyone who would join her. "I don't see the young Prince though." The first born and heir to the Marchen Kingdom, Prince Zeal Berhaart was not among the party. "He's probably away on some other island." With a knack for politics, the young Prince had a quick wit and love for the day to day policy making and governmental work that often was found lacking in his father. As such, he was often the one sent (though he was always the first to volunteer) as an ambassador for the Marchen Kingdom to other islands and governments. "I don't see the other two Generals," continued Nikolai as he tried making out other familiar faces. "They must be back at Haarupstaad. Oh well, I'm sure you'll get a chance to meet them too."
"My friend. So good to see you again!" With a deep bass that matched even Nikolai's, the two lifelong friends embraced each other with a hug and vigorous pats on the back. "How have you been, Nik?" Nearly falling over from the bigger man's slap, Nikolai mustered his strength and delivered an equally strong pat in a show of friendship and good natured tomfoolery, the Captain laughed in response. "Good, good! You look decent, all things considering. Fwahahah!" With much laughter between the two friends, Nikolai told Ede what he had been up to in the last year since his last visit. From funny stories of malarkey that the crew engaged each other with to pass the time to the most curious and magnificent of treasures and merchandise bought, the King of Marchen took great pleasure from the tidbits of stories that Nikolai told...whether or not those stories were exaggerated. For his part, King Berhaart spoke of the national affairs of the kingdom; ranging from the years plentiful harvest, to the newest bright recruits in both the army and the navy, ending with the struggles that the Grimm Brotherhood were having with the new Troll king that lurked in the woods. All in all, however, the kingdom was strong in both spirit and resources as was evident by the pleasant disposition on all of the royal procession's face.
General Seiglein, for her part, stood to the side of the procession as she eyed the strange eye patched Marine who was equally quite, choosing not to interfere as the two friends embraced. "When did you start travelling with Marines, Nik?" Laughing, the merchant Captain beckoned Isaac forward as he dismissed the notion that he was now beholden to the World Government. "Fwahaha, no no no my dear. This is Isaac, he's simply a friend." Outstretching an arm towards the questioning General, Isaac stepped forward. "Isaac. Nice to meet you all and thank you for your hospitality." A consummate professional combined with his noble upbringing made it so that the Marine, while "retired" at the current moment, could do nothing but put his best foot forward and thank the person questioning his very presence on the island. "It is strange for you Mr. Imbros," chipped in the cheery princess as she came skipping to the front to give Mr. Imbros a hug and a welcoming peck on the cheek; her voice almost singing out the comment in a lovely soprano. Her voice was nearly as bright as her golden locks and Isaac would have bet a pretty penny that she was a marvelous singer. As Isaac opened his month to speak and attempt to ease the worry of the rather gruff looking General, the former Marine was denied the opportunity as Nikolai instead provided an answer.
"I know you enjoy your freedom, but Isaac is just here for the ride. I'm helping him get to Sabaody. Besides," added Nikolai, "despite his appearance, he's currently retired from the Marines." "Sabbatical," corrected the younger man, knowing that the Captain enjoyed teasing Isaac's "return" to the Marines and found a strange humor in his current endeavors. "I see, welcome to Marchen," replied the somewhat satiated Seiglein took the younger man's hand in acceptance, providing a strong grip as they shook. "Sabaody huh," mused the older King as he scratched his head. "I'm guessing you must have come from further along this route then Nikolai? Guessing correctly that "The Little Cissonius" had come from one of the islands further along the Hawk Route (as the Stronghair Island was the first island in this particular route), the stouter Captain nodded in agreement. "Aye, we're coming from Bupae."
"Bupae? You seem to keep going there despite my reservations," lamented Ede, his eyes furling at the thought of any of his friends spending any amount of time on the lawless and corrupt island. "Did you at least manage to make it worth your while?" Half out of annoyance, half out of amusement, Nikolai nudged the Marine with his shoulder in a playful nature. "Nope. You can thank the young Lieutenant for that." Though Isaac had yet to divulge with all that he had accomplished on the island, Nikolai knew that Isaac had somehow drastically changed the landscape and day to day life of those of Bupae Island. Sensing the incoming question which was preceded by raised eyebrows on both King Berhaart and General Grimm. "What's that snake James up to?" With a sneer on her face and an upturned nose at the thought of the leader of the Red Sparrows, Seiglein made it immediately clear what her thoughts were of the leader of Bupae.
Believing that he was in good company as a virtue of his friendship with Nikolai, Isaac provided just a short explanation. "That's actually why I'm going to Sabaody, I'm trying to find James." Again, eyes scrunched in confusion from an explanation that provided more questions than answers. "We need to have a talk," offered Isaac in sheepish response. Not sure if the strange man before them was kidding or serious, King Ede decided to let the issue go. General Grimm on the other hand was even more curious and made a note to question the man with the eye patch about his intended "talk" later. "Well, you seem to know what you're doing. Or at least I hope. But until then, enjoy your stay. Come on friend, to Haarupstaad."
The trek, Isaac was told, would take no more than an hour at a brisk walk; which would be no trouble at all considering the environment they found themselves in. The Stronghair Island was a large woodland filled with rising slopes and tall mountains. The ground beneath them was easy to traverse as the ground was firm and overlayed with hanging birches and black alders that did well to provide coverage for the pleasant sun rays overhead. The most prominent of flora that was displayed on the island was a strange looking tree that was called, as explained by Princess Rapuun, the Schwarzbaum. With almost pitch black bark that looked as it had been charred by fire, the bark was completely healthy and appeared to be much thicker in nature. The air was crisp, but not so overtly cold that it became uncomfortable or painful to breathe in. A slight wind came through every few moments, whistling its way through the leaves and branches of the trees, making them sing in an eerily charming way. Having spent the majority of his career in the icy tundras of the North Blue, the Stronghair Island was a delightfully different change of pace for the former Marine.
As the fifty or so group traveled through the forests, Isaac found himself at the back of the pack in an attempt to not intrude on the King and Captain as they merrily took the lead together as they spoke as friends who had not spent a day apart. Though he was the stranger and odd man out among the group, Isaac did not mind. The people of Marchen all seemed kind and of good will, each introducing themselves and making small talk before moving on to more familiar faces. In the end, though, it was General Grimm who made a deliberate attempt to speak with him in an in-depth manner. As she walked towards him, a steely look in her eyes that told Isaac she meant to have a serious conversation, Isaac welcomed her to walk in lockstep with him with a simple nod and word; "General."
Whether or not the one eyed Marine invited her or not, Seiglein was determined to speak to the man about his time on Bupae. What interest did this World Government official ("retired" or not) have with the likes of James Hideki? Walking besides him, Seiglein jumped right into her inquiries. "Why are you chasing James?" Answering that question would require some tact, that much Isaac understood. Neither Bupae or Marchen were a part of the World Government. They were both, however, situated along the Hawk Route and could be traveled in between relatively easily. Isaac doubted that the two nations were allies considering that the General had called the leader of the Red Sparrows a snake. Perhaps they were not allies, but if they mutually benefited from each other's existence then Isaac meddling in the affairs of Bupae could potentially lead to him interfering with the Marchen Kingdom by proxy.
In the end, however, Isaac decided to be honest with Seiglein; he was after all a guest to the island and the King had been quite hospitable. Besides, despite his acting on Bupae, Isaac was not much of a liar. "I'm going to stop him, that's all." Explaining in as much detail as possible, Isaac told her only the essentials of what he had learned while on Bupae while making the case for his involvement with the Red Sparrows. Though most would find it unbelievable, if not outright stupid, the General, to her credit, accepted everything she heard at face value. As he told his story, Isaac saw no emotion on her face; no anger to indicate that his actions would negatively impact her people nor joy that belied her pleasure at the downfall of a rival island. Finishing his story, Isaac waited for a response. General Grimm said nothing, though, as she mulled the new information over. "I see," was the only thing she said after a moment or two. "Come, to Haarupstaad." Indicating that their conversation was over, at least for the time being, Seiglein walked away to rejoin her brother leaving the confused Isaac behind.
Haarupstaad. The capital city of the Marchen Kingdom. Like most major capital cities of most islands, Haarupstaad was a fantastically beautiful metropolitan. Unlike Bupae City, Haarupstaad was not a bleak, overcrowded place that took over the natural beauty of the island with large, bland steel and brick buildings. Instead, each structure (whether home, business, or otherwise) was deliberately and beautifully built with artistry in mind.The ancestors of the Marchen Kingdom seemed to favor a form of Gothic architecture which the current residents were more than happy to continue that tradition. High towers, exquisite buttresses, and dazzling arches were the centerpieces of each building. Even the homes of those who made Haarupstaad their home followed this layout to an extent. As the city was in between a mountain and a river, the builders and architects incorporated the mountainside into the city, often building the largest buildings right into the mountain itself while the homes were given some of the best landscape along the river.
Like a jewel, the beauty of Haarupstaad was the royal castle that served as the home of the Berhaart's for generations. Large sweeping arches, incredibly ornate glass panes, towers of almost daunting heights. Even from a distance, Isaac could see that this structure was impressive and built by the finest artisans and builders; it was perhaps the most magnificent building he had seen. Had the Stronghair Island been a part of the World Government, it would have certainly been a much more populated island simply from the sheer amount of tourism that the island would have experienced. As King Ede explained to Isaac on the way back to the capital city, there were actually five different streams and rivers that flowed throughout the city of Haarupstaad. This made the land fertile and lush, the soil full of the most vital nutrients and minerals needed to create some of the most wonderful landscape imaginable. Lush grass, tall trees, and fields of flowers made up the roadways and created natural fencing around the city. Haarupstaad was simply beautiful.
Home not only to the Berhaart family but also to the main barracks of the National Army, Haarupstaad was as heavily armed and protected as it was beautiful. Though each citizen was trained in the nation's national fighting style, Life Return, a fair bit of the population felt the calling to serve the island and had enlisted in the army. Fitted with glistening silver steel armor plating and carrying very little in the way of weaponry, even the soldiers Isaac could see walking around had long, lush hair of every color and length. Chief among them was General Heinz Seppel, the leader of the National Army. Raising a spear in salute, the arriving party was greeted by the middle aged General. "My king!"
Not one to lord his status of royalty over his citizens, King Ede was unconcerned with the "appearance" of the King foregoing the more traditional of greetings. Instead, he returned General Seppel's salutation with a firm shake of the hand and a hearty pat on the back. "Thank you Heinz. You remember Nikolai and the rest of the family? And this is Isaac." As greetings and well wishes were passed along, Isaac finally made his way to the front to return the greeting and introduction. "A Marine? It's been quite some time since I've had the pleasure." As he had done before, Isaac felt the need to clarify with his new acquaintance. "Marine on a sabbatical," clarified Isaac with a weak smile, his handshake, though, was anything but. A handshake between men, after all, was perhaps the single biggest way that one man impressed who he was with the man on the other end of the handshake. Though his face told of his confusion at the thought of a World Government official taking time off (willingly), the General was professional done to his core. "I see. Well welcome to the Marchen Kingdom, Mr. Isaac."
"Heinz, have you heard from my brother? Has he arrived safely?" Concerned for her brother's safety as he traveled across the seas, the Princess had again asked, for the hundredth time (or so it seemed) of his whereabouts. Though both her father and the two present Generals (General Grimm and General Seppel) had assured the young girl that Prince Zeal was in good hands as he was travelling with the head of the nation's Navy, Admiral Marlen, she could not rest easy until she knew he had arrived at his destination safely. And so, she continued to ask as she had for the last several weeks. Thankfully, for everyone's sanity, General Seppel had received word shorty after the procession party had left Haarupstaad. "I actually have, dear Princess. Admiral Marlen informed me that they have reached Mariejois. The Prince sends his best wishes and informed me that his meeting with the World Government was well received and that they have renewed a mutual understanding between Marchen and the Government." This was, to King Ede, wonderful news. The people of the Marchen Kingdom valued their independence from the World Government, but did not wish to make enemies of them. And over the last twenty years since King Ede succeeded the throne, the two differing governments had been able to come to a mutual understanding and respect for each other. And now, his politically savvy son had continued that legacy within his first meeting. He was, in truth, a proud father.
As the party settled in to the city of Haarupstaad and made plans for the upcoming night, Princess Rapunn had other plans. A radiant beauty and social butterfly, a large group of travelers arriving at the island and news that her brother had been successful on his own voyage meant that a feast was called for, in her mind. And as the members of "The Little Cissonius" began discussing their options for dinner at the various restaurants, bars, and eateries around the city. Hearing the conversation and knowing her father would not turn her down, the brightly haired Princess made her move. "Father! Zeal gave us great news and our friends have returned! Why don't we host a feast as a celebration!" Of course, it was easy for King Ede to agree to his daughter's request. She was the apple of his eye. But her love for the people and being among them was something that she had inherited from her father. "Splendid idea! I'm assuming you're not too tired for a bit of a party?" Not one to turn down the thought of good, hearty food and a little bit of down to earth entertainment, Nikolai beamed in response while the rest of the crew gave their uproarious response in agreement.
By this time, the sun was slowly but surely falling from its place at the highest point in the sky and marking that the afternoon had come. This meant that there was only several hours to prepare the feast as well as set up the activities that had come to be expected at any public festival. Luckily, such celebrations were common on Marchen and the people had quickly gathered and come together to being the preparations. Renown cooks, chefs, and bakers quickly and expertly put their kitchens and stone ovens to work and soon the entire city of Haarupstaad was filled with the most pleasant of scents; freshly baked bread, grilled meats of every kind, and sweet desserts that was hard to resist. Other citizens, too, were hard at work turning the city square into a banquet halls. Long wooden tables were moved from homes and restaurants to create a large dining area where the royal family, high ranking military officials, and citizens would sit together as one people without distinction. Bright lights of white, yellow, orange, and pink were strung from every tower, statue, and post around the city.
Of course, the most important part of the feast would make an appearance; the stadium. Nothing more than a wooden raised, circular platform, this makeshift arena was a staple of any festival. The people of Marchen were highly competitive in every aspect of their life. And as every person on the island had a modicum of skill in the use of their national martial art, it was no surprise that they would, in good faith, challenge each other after their bellies had been filled with hearty food and good drink. These public displays of strength did well to keep the people's skill sharp as well as allowing even the least among them to challenge even the most skilled and well off citizen; even the King, the reigning champion, could be challenged. They were, as it turned out, a hearty and tough people. As a result, no challenge could be turned down. Nor would it be, the entertainment value was simply too much fun to be turned down.
As the invitations were sent out to the other two towns of the Marchen Kingdom, the people of Haarupstaad continued to work; if it could even be called work. Smiles abounded on every face and a popular folk song soon rose to each person's lips and carried across the city and filled the air. The crew of "The Little Cissonius," including Isaac, were ushered away by the royal family and towards a large inn, Tanzende Fee. Matching the architecture of the rest of the city and befitting of it's name, the inn was large, spacious, and immensely light hearted. Unwilling to let a friend as dear as Nikolai pay for the rooms, King Ede himself payed (though the jolly innkeeper insisted otherwise) for an individual room for each of his guests.
Turning the key and opening the room he had been provided, Isaac had to wonder if the enormous room was considered normal at the Tanzende Fee or he had been given special treatment due to his status as a Marine. Either way, Isaac was grateful for the kindness and even more thankful to see that the room came equipped with a shower. Sweat, and its accompanying smells, were a part of life on the high seas. And after two weeks, the young noble was happy to have the opportunity properly clean himself. Before that, however, a workout was in order; especially considering the upcoming festivities that undoubtedly meant his stomach would soon be filled to the brim with the greatest of cuisines. With a room many times larger than his cabin, Isaac was happy to be given so much space. There was something he had been meaning to try out since he had boarded the merchant vessel again. Though he was on the third floor of the inn and had one only one window that only a bird could peer into, those in rooms around Isaac would report hearing a strange sound coming out of the Marine's room that went on for several hours. Though they were unsure of the noise, they thought it to be something akin to lightning, though not as distinct.
Directly across from Haarupstaad on the west end of the island lay the second largest city of the Marchen Kingdom; Befistigan. Referred to the people as "the breadbasket of Marchen," Befistigan was the home to the majority of the islands farmers, shepherds, and cattle raisers. While just as large as Haarupstaad, Befistigan was much more quiet in its day to day life and general noise pollution. This is not to say that those who choose to reside in the capital city were uproarious, rambunctious city slickers. The truth was simply that there were more social activities and populated hubs for the people of Haarupstaad to engage in. Befistigan was much different place. With Lake Lorelay on it's outskirts and large grazing fields, the people of Befistigan were more than happy to live slower lives, content with taking pride in their crops and cattle. Receiving the news of the upcoming festival, they too rushed to make preparations and to join the rest of the kingdom. After all, a night in the capital city was always great fun.Elsewhere on the island, inside of the Forgotten Village
Across Lake Lorelay on the other side away from Befistigan, the Forgotten Village lay desolate and unoccupied. With the increasing numbers of Hohlaffen (trolls) and packs of Varg (wolves) leaving the Starkad Mountains to the north and entering the settlements of the humans, even the name of the original town had become lost and simply became known of as the Forgotten Village. Homes, businesses, and the entire town itself was no devoid of human life as the citizens of Marchen Kingdom had chosen to move closer to the capital city and the resources of the National Army.
And with good reason. The Hohlaffen had become increasingly aggressive over the last few years. Though the trolls of the Stronghair Island had always harbored a hatred for the human species that had invaded their ancestral homes, that hatred had ratcheted in intensity as of late. These large apish, human like creatures were social creatures that had one true value that made up their hierarchy; power. Though fiercely loyal to each other, that did not mean that infighting and struggles for power did not occur. In fact, each new crop of powerful Trolls often vied for the title of Kong, the head of the clan. The title of Kong was reserved for those with the greatest ability to control their powerful fur and was granted the most extravagant homes that their species built inside of caves; the most powerful trolls controlling the cave with the most gold veins and property taken from defeated humans.
And now the newest Kong of the Hohlaffen followed in the tradition of his kind. His hatred of the humans and their settlements far exceeded those of his clan. Though all of the Hohlaffen were tall, roughly twelve feet (3.6 meters), the Kong was even large. At fourteen feet (4.2 meters), Kong possessed all of the power that came requisite with that title. His blue tinged white fur was long, though not nearly as long as some of the more elder Trolls, and dense from the mysterious mineral found in the lakes and rivers of the island. And as all of the beasts of the island, he was able to utilize the strange Life Return to keep the title of Kong firmly in hand; whether by powerful fur or the brutishly large club often found in hand.
Calling his fellow Trolls to his golden home, vigorous grunts and indiscernible, eerily human words echoed around the rock formation of the Kong's residence. Though no human had been able to discern their speech, it was evidently clear from anyone who might have been eavesdropping that there was much disagreement and passion from the gathered Hohlaffens. Unbeknownst to the other inhabitants of the island, the current Kong had decided that enough was enough. Driving out the humans from the Forgotten Village and across Lake Lorelay to Befistigan was not enough. He was determined to drive them fully off of the island, returning the Hohlaffen as the dominant force of the island.
And though there seemed to be disagreement, a powerful roar and forceful smash of the Kong's club in the face of one of the elder Trolls quickly silenced the cave. This was no longer a conversation or debate to be discussed, the Kong had spoken and his word was law. And the target would be Befistigan, the nearest encroachment into their home. Befistigan would feel the wrath of the Hohlaffen soon, and not even the deadly Grimm Brotherhood could stand up to the full force of a united clan led by their Kong. Tonight, the order of the food chain would be restored.Haarupstaad, 2000 hours.
As the sun fell beyond the reach of the horizon and the moon took its place, the festivities had gone into full force and effect. Food was shared around the tables and the best reserves of wine flowed freely among friends, both old and new. Isaac, like all present, was greatly enjoying himself despite what had happened over the last two weeks. It was quite amazing what a fresh shower and hearty homemade food could do in easing one's mind. Though he was not quite the singer that he had hoped to be, Isaac enjoyed the festive folk songs that all participated in, regardless of their actual singing abilities. And as the night continued and more wine flowed, the more their pitch and tenors deviated from among each other to the great delight of all.
With the last dessert having been served, a cherry crumb cake, the people of Marchen quickly began nudging and jokingly challenging each other. And as a group of people that prided themselves on their long hair and the combat abilities they were able to wield due to their unique follicles, it was only a matter of time before the healthy competition started in earnest. And as challenges were issued, a tournament was quickly set up and all citizens began placing their bets and taking sides. King Ede, as the reigning seven year champion, was of course the favorite though, not out of bad will, strong contenders still rose to the front of the packs as a possible challenge.
Isaac, not participating by neither being challenged nor issuing his own challenge, sat back and enjoyed the combative show. He had never seen a fighting style based using one's own hair. Seeing the combatants turn their hair into hands or makeshift tools was truly a sight to see and was far more effective than what Isaac had imagined. King Berhaart, for example, had just defeated his foe by turning his raven colored hair into two human like fists that he used to smash into his opponents chest, almost like a jab straight combination of a boxer. And though the much younger but game contender had blocked, or attempted to, the King reshaped his hair into a sort of sledgehammer that sent the outclassed lad flying off of the arena.
"How are you enjoying the festivities, Lieutenant?" Taking up an empty chair next to the Marine, General Grimm joined Isaac at the fairly empty table as she watched, with a smile, her brother being cheered; he had been the one to teach her how to fight with Life Return. It was good to see that, despite nearly reaching fifty years of age, Ede was still more than capable of holding his own against the younger populace. Offering a goblet of Nutbrown Ale, Isaac, with a twinkle in his eye at the way the evening was unfolding, nodded at the question. "I most certainly am General. The people of Marchen live great lives." Though Seiglein, like all of the citizens, valued their independence and held no real love for the World Government, she took pride that a member of the unified government looked fondly on her culture and people. "Yes, we do. I feel greatly privileged to have been born among such fine folk."
Her sentiments were heartfelt and genuine, and Isaac could feel that. And it was something wonderful to be sure. After all, family, community, and shared values were all that truly mattered at the end of the day. And having chosen a profession that through him into more battles among neighbors and friends than he would have liked, along with the events that had transpired on Bupae Island, gave Isaac little hope that islands and governments that had elected to remain free from the World Government could function properly. But, in the last six months since Isaac had started his sabbatical, he had found that to be wholly untrue. Yes, islands like Bupae existed, but Alabasta too was a part of the World Government. But islands like the Stronghair Island and it's people were perhaps even a better proof that the World Government might be bloated and too far reaching. The Berhaart's, as well as the population as a whole, had created something special.
"We have our share of struggles," continued the General as she accepted the ale from Isaac. "Hard work is done every single day to ensure there is food on the table, creatures still threaten us daily, and people like James Hideki come to our shores as often as kind people like Nikolai do." Invoking the name of the Red Sparrow himself once more, Isaac's curiosity took over his reserved nature and he had to ask, "What happened between you and James?" Having heard the Marine's story about the events that had transpired on the corrupt island between himself and James' lackeys, Seiglein decided she could trust him and that Isaac hardly fit the mold of most Marine officers she had met; though the sample size was admittedly small.
"Several years ago, that snake came to our island with a mysterious pink liquid. I don't remember what he called it, but he claimed he had been able to completely control his people by using the substance." Clearly angered by the proposition and even by having to recall the event, Seiglein's face fell and became fitting of the surname she had inheritted; Grimm. "He offered the same substance to my brother in exchange for a shared alliance between us." Laughing at the thought, the female monster hunter's mood returned to her rather relaxed attitude. "I thought Ede was going to kill him right then and there, ha. Would have done the world a lot of good." That was something Isaac could agree to, raising his own cup in a show of said agreement. "We love our independence. It's what has made us prosperous. Freedom is the only way cultures, businesses, and philosophies can thrive," she continued in a sentiment that mirrored the Marine's own world view. Individual freedom and liberty was the only way forward; something he wished to bring to the World Government, oxymoron as it might have been in philosophy.
"Well said, General. Well said." Leaning his chair back into the table, Isaac and Seiglein sat like that for the remainder of the evening, simply enjoying each other's silent company as they watched the ongoing tournament. Neither of them felt the need to continue speaking; they shared the same philosophy which was enough for them. And so they sat, enjoying their drinks as they watched King Ede take center stage once more for the final match of the night. And though his competitor was known other than General Seppel's own protegee, Major Howzer, King Berhaart would go undefeated once more to the great applause and joy of the viewers. Major Howzer, too, was given a rousing applause for his own effort and ability to reach the tournaments finality with known other than King Ede doling out the most enthusiastic support. "My friends," turning to address his citizens whom (Isaac noted) he truly spoke to as if they were his close friends, King Ede began to signal the end of the night. "Thank you for your presence and your..."
However, before he could finish his address, the King was interrupted by a soldier that had rushed from Befistigan as quickly as his feet could carry him. "Tro...tr...ooll!" Hands on his knees, lungs on fire from running with heavy steel plated armor, head dropped and panting to catch his breath, the young man struggled to deliver his urgent message. "Easy son," intervened General Seppel, "breathe. Trying to slow his breath, to no avail, the young boy struggled to form his next sentence that would change the entire tenor of the night; evidence by the gasp that followed his news.
"Trolls at Befistigan. The Kong has overrun the outposts.
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