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Chapter 78: Tea Time

– Muret –

In her humble opinion, Medicine was the flower of civilization. After all, few things mattered as much to as many people than their health and physical well-being. Unsurprisingly, many of the world's greatest minds had devoted their lives to broadening the horizons of what was doable. Everything eventually led back to this topic, with every scientific breakthrough inching them ever closer to the ultimate goal of freeing humanity from disease and illness. In a way, medicine could be said to be the magnum opus of human history.

Of course, there had been individuals who had tried to reach beyond this and achieve the unachievable by conquering death itself. The dream of immortality was one which had accompanied society since before its inception and as long as there existed anyone capable of conscious thought, would likely never die out completely. Legends had been formed around this idea, such as the philosopher's stone and the elixir of life. Or a bit closer to home, the Ope Ope no Mi was said to be able to grant eternal life to another in exchange for the wielder's own. None of these were confirmed, but the stories had prevailed.

Back when she'd been studying to become a doctor, they had been just that…stories. Muret had never placed any real credence in such tales, deeming them a distraction and a waste of time, time which she could use to further her own education. Even after having seen the impossible happen on the Grand Line, her core belief in the finite nature of the human lifespan had remained unshakable. Then she'd met Myskina Olga and her father, Alcier.

They were living proof that she'd known far less about the world and human potential than she'd assumed, even after her repeated humbling on the Grand Line. The experience closest in magnitude had been the revelation of the White Sea's existence, which had been both the start and the catalyst of her reality shattering for the first time. Others may have raved and ranted and tried to find a way to find proof which supported their original stance in order to wallow in their outdated world view.

Muret had been far too excited to go down that route. So many questions bouncing around inside her brain, dozens of theories and conjectures demanding experimentation…and all of it came down to a variation of the following.

What else was possible?

If the art of alchemy could grant someone a form of eternal youth by placing their body in a developmental stasis, how else would a master be able to twist the natural laws of the universe to suit their own interests? Impossibility had just become the new frontier and with Alcier stuck on their ship for the foreseeable future, the Bellamy pirates had found themselves in the privileged position of being the first to explore it.

The first to take advantage of the opportunity had been their snipers, Laki and Rivers, who had immediately put their heads together the moment they'd escaped out of Bonbori's gut. Thankfully, that part had been unspectacular. With the Pure Gold wrapped up in so much packaging that detecting its light became impossible, the giant footballfish had let out a disgusted huff and turned its back on the newly regurgitated ship.

Anyway, by nature of their chosen discipline, the combat potential of those two was significantly more dependent upon the specs of their equipment, than it would be for someone like, say, Lily. Simply put, stronger guns usually equaled stronger gunners. While Izou had demonstrated repeatedly, that applying armament to bullets was possible, there wasn't much haki could do about the speed of the bullet itself.

Simply increasing the amount of powder wasn't the solution either. While more gunpowder did increase the explosive energy behind the projectile, the strain it placed on the method of delivery grew exponentially as well, mandating ever thicker barrels and bigger guns. Assuming that one did manage to create a steel barrel capable of outlasting the amount of powder required to reach the desired bullet velocities, the gun in question was likely to be unwieldier than a cannon. So far, the two of them had been circumventing this issue via the clever use of dials, but Laki had confessed that they'd hit a glass ceiling a while ago.

Thankfully for her friends, alchemy offered an alternative. If one had access to a material with properties far more suited for gunsmithing than conventional steel, creating the dream rifle no longer had to remain a dream. Of course, whether getting their hands on such an alloy was possible was another matter entirely. However, with the mere possibility being dangled before their faces, the two snipers had barricaded themselves in Laki's workshop with Alcier and refused to come out.

As previous attempts to break into Laki's workshop had ended…badly for those involved, the rest of the Crew were left with no choice to twiddle their thumbs and wait outside in enforced patience. Muret used that time to ponder her ideas a bit more, though due to her lack of insight into the alchemical principles, those had remained nebulous at best. Boosting the efficacy of her herbal brews was an obvious avenue to explore, but beyond that? Who knew what was possible?

Poison and medicine were two sides of the same coin, so maybe something in that direction? The limiting factor was usually the dosage required, so if alchemy were to magnify the healing properties while suppressing the undesirable, or even transform it into a benefit too… if that were possible, then previously unusable materials would all of a sudden become viable options and effectively increase the possible pharmaceutical combinations a hundred-fold. Diseases, previously untreatable, may obtain permanent cures and horrendously expensive medicines might become cheaper than dirt.

And if she dared hope, should Alcier be capable of distilling or otherwise extracting a concept such as healing into liquid form…well, that was the legendary panacea, wasn't it? She probably should discuss her ideas with Law at some point and see if he had any of his own. Even if he didn't, kidnapping securing Alcier's time was going to be a lot easier with an extra pair of hands available.

Still, that was going to have to wait because a certain someone had commandeered her potential research partner for an experiment of his own. Why Bellamy kept insisting on detaching his arms from his torso was anyone's guess, but ever since Law had joined them, he'd taken full advantage of having two surgeons on board. Especially, as with Law's devil fruit, fixing any cases of misalignment could be achieved much more easily than what she'd had to do with Dr. Hogdback.

Thankfully, no accidents had occurred until now which they couldn't fix in a jiffy, but her earlier caution had proven itself to have been warranted. Unfortunately, the lack of permanent consequences had only served to embolden her captain, who had started pulling his legs off for further research once he'd gotten used to re-attaching his arms properly. Oddly enough, the legs proved to be far easier than the arms had been, though they had postulated that this was likely due to Bellamy getting the hang of his back-and-forth transformation.

This didn't mean that Muret hadn't slapped him over back of the head, when Bellamy stated his intentions to eventually decapitate himself in his Coil Chassis form. Though, if there was anything she'd learned about her captain, it was that he was as stubborn as a mule once he had set his mind on something. As a result, the best she could do was extract a promise to only attempt it with Law in the immediate vicinity. It did hurt her pride somewhat fierce to admit she wouldn't be enough should the worst come to pass. However, being a doctor also meant knowing where one's own limits were and asking for help when needed in order to secure the best possible treatment for the patients under her care. Simply put, her pride wasn't worth risking the lives of her friends over.

But, if Alcier could put someone's body into a perfect stasis…?

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– Nero –

Back when he'd been a government agent, the ability to distinguish between those individuals who were valid targets and those who were untouchable, had been an indispensable skill. The reasons for their invulnerability were many, depending on where the person in question stood with regards to the system. Some, such as the Five Elder Stars, reigned nearly supreme within the system while others moved with impunity outside of it, taking advantage of the blind spots a world spanning organization couldn't help but have.

The Bloody Countess had featured quite prominently near the top of that list, with every agent being told to stay the fuck out of her way unless explicitly ordered otherwise. And for the damn good reason that trying to fight her was going to end very badly for the marines. This didn't mean that Elisabeth Bathory could flex bigger military muscles than the navy could, not by a long shot. However, with how dispersed her organization was, eliminating them all in one swell swoop was near impossible and would only invite guerilla style retribution from an incensed crime boss.

Even bringing down a buster call on her home island wouldn't do the trick, as while nobody knew where her main base of operations was, everybody knew it wasn't in the kingdom of her birth despite the countess de facto controlling it. In this, she differed quite a lot from Gild Tesoro or the Joker, who both had designated strongholds where they had concentrated most of their power. It was, if nothing else, a clear demonstration of where the individual priorities were set, with Bathory going for longevity by giving up the benefits of greater centralization.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

That said, for only being one of her many decoy bases, the castle they'd been invited to was certainly memorable, both in its stature and its creepy atmosphere. The red walls and black spires rose tall above the pines, their needles having turned red in accordance with the season. When combined with the many bats flying through the inky darkness of the night sky, it painted quite the sinister picture, as Nero and his four companions made their way up the ambling cobble path towards the heavy front gate.

On the other hand, the interior, which an old butler led them through, was tasteful in its gaudiness if a bit too red for Nero's liking, showcasing the extent to which luxury could be stylish. The furniture was well chosen, the paintings exquisite and the many suits of armor lining the walls were polished to a shine. Nero had half expected them to be taken to the great hall, but contrary to his expectations, the room they ended up in was a large solar with a set of comfortable looking couches surrounding a long coffee table.

And seated at the head of this arrangement was someone who could only be their host, sipping elegantly from a teacup before looking up at them with a flick of her ebony hair. Under other circumstances Nero might have spent a bit more time appreciating her beauty, but all such thoughts went flying out the window the moment her piercing blue eyes caught his own. Later, he would describe the feeling as if, in that moment, she had flayed his soul bare, which had been enough to make him wish to don one of the many suits of crimson plate adorning the walls. Then, that moment was gone as if it had never existed, and Nero was left wondering if he'd imagined formerly chilling visage of the gently smiling lady before him.

If she was uncomfortable being alone in a room with a bunch of notorious pirates, she didn't show it, wordlessly gesturing at the open seats and pouring them all a cup of black tea. In terms of quality alone, it probably was the best tea Nero had ever tasted and that was even before the added milk. Similarly, Law and Izou were giving off various sounds of approval as they closed their eyes and focused on committing the sensory input to memory. Across the table, Rivers was busy heaping a spoon's worth of sugar into his, the sniper oblivious to the (very) subtle looks of distaste the countess was throwing in his direction.

Bellamy, however, had noticed and stepped in before the Elisabeth Bathory decided to take matters into her own hands.

"I think that's going to be sweet enough, Rivers. You might want to drink that before the tea goes cold."

"You think so? It still smells a bit bitter to me."

"Believe me, you want to drink your tea."

"Eh…I do?" Fortunately for his own well-being, Rivers wasn't completely blind and deaf. "Ah…uhm, yes. I do want to drink the tea. Now. Yeah, now."

While his captain was busy saving their mutual friend, Nero occupied himself by scanning his surroundings, as was his wont whenever he entered a new location. Always secure an escape route, had been a lesson which his trainers had drilled into him, and those instincts hadn't gone anywhere. Even a superficial glance revealed a pair of hidden passages camouflaged behind bits of furniture in addition to the tall windows behind a statuesque desk. Fortunately though, it seemed like they wouldn't need a complicated exit strategy, not with how genial the atmosphere had become once the words started flowing.

Most of it was meaningless small talk about everything and nothing, everybody finding something to pitch in about. Whether it be about the newest developments in the medical field or Ross's budding skills as a shipwright, the conversation naturally flowed from one topic to another while granting everyone their time in the spotlight.

"My, how fascinating. Do tell me more."

Naturally, Nero's companions did what people tended to do when someone paid attention to what they were saying…they talked more, often without Elisabeth needing to prompt them further. It probably didn't help that Nero's current companions possessed rather large egos, grown into their current state by the corresponding developments in skill and ability.

"Do correct me if I'm wrong Mr. Ross, but didn't Mr. Law mention something similar a few minutes ago?"

More than once, Nero caught himself about to spill the beans on every mission he'd completed as an agent, purely because the countess mentioned the location as one of her many holiday destinations. What probably made it so much easier to talk to her was her conscious decision to not venture into dangerous territory, the countess deliberately diverting the conversation away from their current circumstances or other personal details. There were no overt attempts to sniff out their weaknesses, no displayed interest in their methods of training, no attention paid to the skeletons they had stashed away in their individual closets…but despite that, the atmosphere was personal, which made it so easy to become invested in whatever was being talked about.

"I can recommend 'An Evening with Dawn' if you're interested in our history, Mr. Bellamy. If one ignores the rather romantic title, it really is a well written account of the most chaotic era of our nation's past. Or maybe, it's precisely because it was such a topic that the author became a romantic?"

Such was the power of a good listener, he supposed. You didn't have to pick up secrets as if they were seashells on the beach. People just threw them at you by the bucketload, or at least Ross would have if Bellamy and Law hadn't been running interference the entire time. That the sailmaker remained oblivious to the verbal fencing match being played around him was remarkable in and of itself. Especially when one remembered that he'd grown up on the streets, where one wrong word could have disastrous consequences. Izou certainly had noticed, going by the amused glint in his eyes, but rather than helping his beleaguered pupils, the commander had chosen to enjoy the show while emptying the teapot.

"More tea, Commander?"

At least they'd learned that for all his paranoia and street smarts, Ross was incredibly vulnerable in terms of operational security, at least when a beautiful aristocratic lady was involved. Which ultimately meant, Bellamy's decision to concede defeat and move negotiations along was an understandable if regrettable decision.

"So, Alchemi was inside a giant fish? How curious."

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The World Is Safe?

Welcome to Marineford Daily News, your only source of accurate and unbiased truth.

Perhaps upset with having his rivals steal the spotlight, Cavendish of the White Horse has publicly stated his disdain for those pirates who are already being called the Worst Generation. Just as a reminder, this title refers to that group of villainous rookies who attempted to obstruct the path of justice at Marineford during the Summit War. Regardless of their failure to do so (the true target Edward Newgate having been slain), their vile nature and ravenous hunger for chaos has quickly marked them as the single greatest collection of scoundrels to plague our waters since the death of the infamous Gold Roger.

However, while the world surely despises these good-for-nothing criminals, the sheer amount of vitriol spewed out by the captain of the Beautiful Pirates makes it obvious that his hatred for them runs far deeper. Unfortunately, the reason for his hostility is not quite clear as of yet, because whenever we attempted to question the former prince on the topic, his words became a lot less coherent. In fact, this reporter would even claim that his responses had more in common with the howling of beasts than human speech.

While this no doubt highlights the barbarous nature of pirates as a whole, this enmity between Cavendish, a frontrunner of last year's batch of rookies, and the current crop of notorious newcomers can only signal good things for the world. It is our sincere hope that these animals will turn upon each other and subsequently, slaughter each other instead of turning their combined might against the current World Order.

Then again, as one government insider revealed, the chances of any two of these very prideful and arrogant pirates being friendly with each other, never mind willingly cooperating towards a common goal (beyond very temporary arrangements) are deemed to be highly unlikely.

Thus, we close today's news with the following quote from Vice Admiral Aramaki.

"The World can relax. The World is safe."

This was Marineford Daily reporting.

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