One Piece: The True Codex

While William was engrossed in his sword training at the Isshin Dojo, the outside world continued to move forward, unaffected by his low-profile lifestyle.

In the East Blue, the capital of the Navia Kingdom, Kalmar City, had turned into a sea of revelry.

For first-time visitors to Kalmar, such as Sassarian, the president of the Flash Gold Guild, the scene was bewildering. Everywhere—on the streets, in alleys, outside shops, even at doorsteps—locals were clutching bottles of liquor, indulging in drunken revelry. Many were even handing out bottles of alcohol to passersby, shouting at the top of their lungs, "One last celebration, mate!"

As Sassarian walked down the street, someone shoved a bottle of gin into his hands. Despite the somewhat ostentatious name of his guild, Sassarian himself was a refined and courteous middle-aged man with a gentle demeanor. He attempted to pay for the bottle, but the drunkard waved him off and staggered away.

A drunk man pushing a baby carriage passed by, and Sassarian instinctively glanced inside, only to find it filled entirely with liquor bottles. Before he could process his shock, the commotion at a nearby intersection caught his attention.

A group of people carrying a wooden coffin adorned with wreaths approached, laughing and joking. An oversized bottle of liquor was ceremoniously placed inside the coffin. One of the wreaths bore the inscription:

"Rest in Peace."

...

Compared to the bustling, chaotic streets of the commoners' district, the aristocratic quarter of Kalmar City was much quieter. In stark contrast to the noise outside, a group of affluent men and women were gathered in a grand hall, preparing to listen to a speech.

An elderly man with a slender frame slowly ascended the stage. He was dressed in a well-tailored black tailcoat, his graying hair meticulously combed back, and his neatly trimmed mustache gleamed under the light. Despite his advanced age, he exuded an air of vitality and sharpness.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began.

"Many years ago, in this very city, there was a happy old man. He once believed himself to be the luckiest person in the world because he had a harmonious family and a pair of filial children. For a man whose temples were turning gray, nothing could bring more comfort than these."

"Until one day, he received devastating news..." The old man paused, blinking as if struggling to endure the memory. Then he continued, "His youngest daughter, as pure as an angel in his memory, had been harmed."

Gasps of shock rippled through the audience, but the old man ignored them and pressed on. "The culprit was a drunk—a sailor from the docks. The old man was consumed by grief and vowed to seek justice for his daughter, to punish the criminal. But when he finally confronted the remorseful, ordinary man—the very man standing here on this stage today—he couldn't help but ask himself a question: Was the sailor the only culprit?"

The old man's tone grew stern. "No! The culprit was also alcohol! This vile beverage is the companion of thieves, the friend of harlots. It numbs the brain, easily demolishing the moral barriers constructed in moments of rationality. The more widely it spreads, the greater the harm it causes."

"How many families have been torn apart by husbands who drink excessively? How many children have suffered unhappy childhoods because of it, only to grow up and choose the path of piracy, joining the ranks of those drunken scum of the seas?"

Raising a glass of juice toward the royal palace, the old man declared, "Fortunately, we have a wise king who loves his nation and cares for his people. He refuses to let his citizens be poisoned by alcohol any longer. At last, he has agreed to issue a prohibition decree three days from now. Our nation will finally be free from the scourge of this slow-acting poison!"

The audience rose to their feet in applause, whether out of genuine agreement or mere politeness. After all, the man on stage was no ordinary speaker—he was Count Arcadio Buendía, the Minister of Finance of the Navia Kingdom and the head of the prestigious Buendía family.

As Arcadio stepped down from the stage, his son Aureliano approached him and whispered, "How could a lowly dockworker ever have come into contact with Remedios?"

Arcadio shot him a glance. "Don't let the truth ruin a good story, you fool. Instead of wasting your time chasing women, why not focus on building connections with the families of other ministers?"

"Wine is as precious as gold. I'm not the only one who can see that."

...

The island where William currently resided was home to two villages: Shimotsuki Village, near the Isshin Dojo, and Momiji Village, where Edmond had lived.

The two villages were separated by forests and hills. The distance between them was inconvenient—too far for easy travel yet too close for maritime trade to be worthwhile. To this day, neither village had considered collaborating to build a proper road.

In the woods outside Shimotsuki Village, Edmond was biting his nails, engrossed in a book titled The Travels of Glass Bead Island. The book was so well-worn from repeated readings that its edges were frayed, and the cover was tattered.

William already knew that this was a novel written by Edmond's father. Another book by the same author, Terror on Beast Island, had also been published, albeit under duress, making both books rare collector's items. William had read them as well. While The Travels of Glass Bead Island was somewhat engaging, he found Terror on Beast Island too far-fetched to take seriously.

Nevertheless, Edmond, now eighteen, still enjoyed rereading his father's novels with great enthusiasm.

What was even more surprising was that Vallon also loved the books. At the moment, he was standing behind Edmond, craning his bald head over Edmond's shoulder to read along with equal concentration.

The three of them waited a while longer until voices from outside the woods signaled the approach of others. Edmond tried to put away his book, but Vallon snatched it and continued reading.

William tilted his head, listening closely. He could make out one voice scolding loudly and another responding meekly.

Soon, the voices' owners emerged from the other side of the woods and came into view.

The newcomers were three young men. The leader, around twenty-three or twenty-four years old, had messy black curls plastered to his head. He wasn't particularly tall but was stocky, with slightly swollen eye bags and faint dark circles. A prominent hooked nose, which might have once been handsome, appeared crooked as if it had been broken. A diagonal scar ran across his left eye, splitting his eyebrow into two sections. His left eye twitched habitually, and combined with his perpetually downturned mouth, he exuded an air of defiance.

Behind him were two burly subordinates. One was short and stout, with curly black hair, a snub nose, and small eyes. Despite his stocky build, he appeared robust. The other was tall, with sleek black hair styled with pomade that gleamed in the sunlight. Compared to his companions, his features were handsome and well-proportioned.

The scar-faced man seemed particularly displeased with his tall, handsome subordinate, scolding him incessantly until they reached William and the others.

"Tony," Edmond greeted the scar-faced man with a grin. "What did Manny do to upset you this time?"

Tony shot Manny a glare before turning to Edmond. "This guy is obsessed with his looks. He wasted time styling his hair with pomade before leaving, which made us late."

"We haven't been waiting long," William said with a smile.

Tony finally turned his attention to William. His gaze lingered on the katana at William's waist before he casually lifted the hem of his shirt, placing his hands on his hips to reveal the flintlock pistol tucked into his belt.