Sea Circle Calendar Year 1508 — The Holy Land, Mariejois
The dawn rose crimson over the Red Line.
High above the world's oceans, the gleaming city of Mariejois shimmered like a crown of glass and gold — sacred, untouchable, and utterly corrupt beneath its surface.
That morning, the great bells of the palace rang seven solemn times.
The Reverie had begun — the once-in-four-years council where the kings and queens of the world gathered to decide the fate of their age.
Banners of dozens of kingdoms fluttered in the wind.
Guards lined the marble roads as jeweled carriages rolled through the gates of Pangaea Castle. The air was thick with pride and suspicion.
Inside, the Grand Hall of Thrones shone with impossible luxury.
A circular table of pure glass reflecting every monarch's face; chandeliers that burned with a steady blue flame; and a mural of the Celestial Dragons painted across the ceiling — looking down as gods upon mortals.
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Among those present sat King Nefertari Cobra of Alabasta, dignified and quiet; King Riku Doldo III of Dressrosa, his gentle eyes marked by weariness; and Queen Lilya of Prodence, a sharp-tongued ruler with a talent for politics.
The first discussions began as formal reports — but the tension in the room rose swiftly.
"The seas grow more lawless by the month," declared King Thalassor of Ilusia, his golden crown gleaming. "Trade ships vanish, and the pirates carve out empires. What is the Navy doing?"
A monarch from the South Blue scoffed. "What can they do? The Grand Line belongs to the Emperors now!"
"They're doing what they can," replied another through gritted teeth. "You think they can fight four Emperors at once?"
That word — Emperors — rolled through the chamber like thunder.
The noise stilled instantly.
Cobra leaned forward, fingers steepled.
"You speak of the Yonko."
King Cobra then folded his hands, his tone quiet but firm. "The world has entered a new age. The seas bend not to the Marines nor the Nobles… but to pirates."
The room murmured at once — half in awe, half in fear.
"Yes," said King Thalassor grimly. "Whitebeard. Big Mom. Kaido. And that woman from the Pirate King's cre—"
"Nyx D. Ada," Queen Lilya interrupted, her tone half reverent, half venomous. "The First Emperor. They say even the sea itself bends for her."
Queen Lilya of Prodence sneered. "That woman has swallowed 50 islands in less than a year! Even Fishman Island bows under her flag!"
The name carried weight far beyond the room.
For the past decade, Ada's territories had grown — stretching across the New World, touching islands that even the Marines feared to patrol.
Whispers said her influence reached down to the sea floor — to Fishman Island itself, where her flag waved above the royal gates as a symbol of protection.
"She claims no interest in ruling humans," said one king nervously. "But her fleet controls three major trade currents! Even the World Government taxes fewer ships than she does!"
"She's a pirate," Lilya snapped. "You think protection comes without a price?"
Cobra's gaze remained calm. "Yet, under her watch, no slave ships pass through Fishman waters. No Celestial Dragon dares descend there. Tell me, Queen Lilya — which is worse. Her rule, or the Government's silence?"
"That's because they fear her!" Lilya spat. "Not because she's righteous!"
The question made several monarchs shift uncomfortably in their seats.
Even those loyal to Mariejois hesitated to answer.
Riku spoke gently, his voice a balm in the tension. "Ada is dangerous, yes. But from what I've heard, she keeps order where the Government cannot. Perhaps she's not the storm… but the eye within it."
A murmur of agreement passed between a few rulers — the quieter, older ones who'd lived through too many wars to believe in simple heroes or villains.
King Thalassor slammed his hand on the table. "You speak as though we should praise her! That woman once served under Rocks D. Xebec — a monster who dreamed of conquering the world!"
"Yet Roger did the same," Cobra replied quietly, "and the world calls him a legend."
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut steel.
Queen Lilya rose from her chair, her gown glittering with diamonds. "You dare compare her to Roger?! That woman could turn on us all at any moment. The First Emperor, they call her — a title of arrogance if ever there was one!"
Cobra didn't flinch. "Perhaps. But arrogance is a symptom of power, not evil."
"She bears the name D," someone whispered from the far end of the hall.
That single letter carried the weight of ancient fear.
Riku nodded slowly. "And the World Government has tried for centuries to erase that name. Yet it returns… in every age."
A low, uncertain silence settled over the monarchs.
They all knew it — the letter "D" was a curse spoken only in whispers.
As the session stretched into the evening, talk drifted to the Warlords of the Sea — the Shichibukai recently instated to counterbalance the Emperors.
From the upper dais, an elderly monarch with trembling hands raised his voice. "What about the Warlords? What are they doing while pirates rule the seas?"
Queen Lilya's tone was laced with disdain. "A fool's idea. Pirates hunting pirates — as if wolves could herd sheep."
"The Warlords are pirates too!" shouted another king. "Crocodile, Moria, Hanafuda — all of them! They fight among themselves, not for us!"
A wave of frustration broke out.
Riku sighed. "Still, it gives the illusion of order. Even if it's temporary."
Another king, older and quieter, leaned toward Cobra.
"I heard something strange from my informants in the South. That the Revolutionary Army is stirring again — spreading through small kingdoms, toppling nobles."
Cobra frowned. "Dragon, yes… another name the Government hates to speak."
"Indeed," said the man, lowering his voice further. "And rumor has it he once served under the Marines before disappearing. Some even say he and that Empress—" he stopped himself.
"No, that would be impossible."
Cobra said nothing — but a faint unease darkened his expression.
Impossible or not, Ada's name and Dragon's were beginning to appear in the same breath.
When the Reverie recessed that night, smaller gatherings formed in private chambers — the true politics of the world, spoken behind closed doors.
Cobra, Riku, and Lilya met briefly in a side hall.
"Do you believe she truly means to protect Fishman Island?" Riku asked. "Or is it strategy?"
Cobra shook his head. "I think it's more complicated. Those who bear the name of D. rarely act for power alone."
Lilya scoffed. "You sound as though you admire her."
"I respect balance," Cobra replied. "And she keeps it — for now."
"But for how long?" Lilya pressed. "When one woman commands such strength, even the Celestial Dragons grow nervous."
Riku smiled faintly. "Then perhaps it's time they felt fear."
Lilya glared, but didn't respond.
Cobra's gaze turned toward the open balcony — toward the distant sea, invisible beyond the Red Line.
"She's not the one the world should fear," he murmured. "It's what she knows."
Outside, the Celestial Dragons paraded with slaves under the artificial stars. The nobles laughed, gilded masks gleaming in the torchlight, oblivious to the murmurs that spread through their holy city.
Servants whispered.
"They say the seas are rising again."
"Storms worse than before — whole islands gone."
"Some say the First Emperor knows why…"
But when dawn came, the palace bells rang again — clear, cold, and indifferent — as if nothing in the world could shake their sound.
As the kings and queens descended the Red Line, their hearts carried more questions than resolutions.
King Cobra stared out from his ship's deck, the wind lifting his dark cloak.
"Nyx D. Ada… what are you planning?"
High above, Mariejois shimmered like heaven —
but below, in the unseen depths of the sea, something vast was shifting, unseen but unstoppable.
The age of kings was fading.
The age of tides — Ada's era — was only just beginning.