After handling the initial, chaotic reorganization of Shells Town—which included processing the terrified Marine deserters, promoting the loyal ones, and beginning the public works projects he had promised—Lancelot finally sat down.
He was in the opulent captain's office of the former Marine Branch 153, a room that still faintly smelled of his predecessor's cheap cigars and fear.
This place would now serve as the temporary East Blue Inspectorate Headquarters.
He couldn't help but stretch lazily, his massive, three-meter body dwarfing the ridiculously large, gaudy chair that had once belonged to Axe-Hand Morgan.
Sometimes, he mused, trivial matters—the paperwork, the logistics, the public announcements—were infinitely more exhausting than fighting a pitched battle against a dozen pirate crews.
At this moment, the door opened, and Lina entered, carrying a small tray with a cup of tea.
She placed it on his desk, her movements silent and graceful, a stark contrast to her new, terrifying power.
She moved behind his chair and, without a word, her strong, slender hands began to massage his shoulders.
"Thank you, Lina," Lancelot murmured, closing his eyes.
"You've been tense, Master," she whispered, her voice a low purr.
Her hands worked with practiced skill, kneading the new, dense muscle of his neck and shoulders.
She leaned in, her hybrid tiger-like warmth radiating against his back, her sharp, manicured nails tracing light, electric circles against his uniform.
It had to be said—having a beautiful, powerful, Zoan-powered woman serve you so unconditionally and willingly was truly one of life's greatest, most sublime pleasures.
As Lina continued her massage, her ministrations growing bolder, Lancelot felt his focus on tax ledgers and troop deployments begin to... waver.
A familiar heat rose within him.
He reached back with one hand, capturing her busy fingers, and then moved his hand to her waist, pulling her closer, his thumb beginning to knead the curve of her hip.
Lina trembled slightly at his touch, a faint flush rising on her cheeks.
But not only did she not resist, she cooperated fully, shifting her stance, parting her legs slightly to press herself more firmly against the back of his chair...
Burururu... Burururu...
Just as the atmosphere in the room was growing thick and promising, the encrypted Den Den Mushi on Lancelot's desk rang, its obnoxious, chirping call shattering the mood.
Lancelot froze for a moment, then his lips twitched in profound annoyance.
Only two people in the world had the number for this particular Den Den Mushi: Captain Smoker, or his cheap old man, Vice Admiral Burns.
And when either of them called, it was always about business.
Important business that, invariably, could not be delayed.
"Terrible, terrible timing," he muttered, reluctantly withdrawing his hand.
"Pfft..." Lina, feeling the momentary emptiness, immediately chuckled softly, stepping back and straightening her uniform.
She was his staff officer as much as she was his devotee.
"Master, you can have me whenever you want," she said, her voice still a little breathless. "We mustn't delay important matters."
Hearing this, Lancelot also chuckled, his irritation fading.
"True enough..."
Smack!
He took the opportunity to give her a sharp, appreciative pat on her ass as a reward, eliciting a soft, pleased moan from her.
He then answered the Den Den Mushi, and immediately, his cheap father Burns's voice, brimming with a strange, manic energy, blasted from the receiver.
"You're causing quite the stir, kid!" His tone carried both a father's exasperated pride and a politician's helplessness.
Hearing this, Lancelot leaned back in his chair, his interest piqued.
"What's happened, old man?"
"What's happened? The other nine inspectors, that's what!" Burns roared.
"The ones whose territories you've... inspected. They've all jointly filed complaints about you to the Holy Land! Their Celestial Dragon backers were screaming for your head! They said you were disrupting their... 'operations'!"
Lancelot just smirked. "And?"
"And?!" Burns scoffed. "So my connections and I had a little... chat... with their connections. The other side, furious, demanded a 'settlement' since they couldn't have you removed. They demanded that the East Blue must, from now on, pay ten billion Berry annual tribute to 'compensate' for the profits their inspectors are now losing. An impossible, punitive fine."
"Ten billion," Lancelot mused. "That's a lot."
"Ah, but that's where I played my hand!" Burns's voice turned smug.
"I told them that ten billion was a messy, disorganized number. I told them my Celestial Dragon backer would prefer a simpler arrangement. I made a counter-offer: a guaranteed three billion Berries annually. A massive sum, all paid directly to their masters, nice and clean."
Lancelot was somewhat surprised.
"Then why did they agree to less? Ten billion down to three?"
"Hahaha! Because in exchange for that... generous... and reliable sum," Burns cackled, "my backer demanded your complete and total control over all other inspectors in the East Blue! To 'ensure efficiency' and 'guarantee the payment'! I pulled the rug right out from under them! Their little agents are now your little agents! They've suffered a great, great loss! Their masters get the money, but they lose all their power in the East Blue... to you!"
By the end, Burns couldn't help but burst into loud, proud laughter.
Lancelot understood who his father was referring to—the other corrupt officials working under the other Celestial Dragons.
They were all in competition.
However, Lancelot's mind, always calculating, immediately saw the flaw.
Those who could thrive under the Celestial Dragons were definitely not easy to deal with.
Indeed, his father's move was clever... but the other side wouldn't just take this loss lying down.
They would definitely retaliate.
"Old man," Lancelot asked, his voice low and serious. "What's the catch? What is it you haven't mentioned yet?"
"Huh?" The smug expression on Burns's face froze, and his voice turned serious.
"Ah. Yes. The catch. Those bastards... while I pulled the rug out from under them, they did the same to me. They agreed to my terms... on the condition that the first three billion Berry payment is delivered... this year. We have less than two months until the tribute is due."
Lancelot remained silent, and Burns finally sighed, his voice heavy.
"On my end... I'm spent. I first obtained that White Tiger Fruit for you. Later, to support your efforts in building influence in the East Blue, I spent a fortune to acquire two more Devil Fruits. One Zoan, one Paramecia. Although they're both unknown, mystery varieties... I've invested all the liquid savings I've accumulated over decades into this."
"So, Lancelot... these three billion Berries... they will likely have to rely entirely on you. Are you confident?"
By the end, even Burns, the master political player, sounded uncertain.
If it were the second year, after Lancelot had consolidated his control... three billion wouldn't be difficult.
But this year? With less than two months until the deadline? Where could anyone get three billion Berries from the East Blue?
Meanwhile, Lancelot's furrowed brow had relaxed.
He even looked... surprised. "You managed to obtain two more Devil Fruits so quickly?"
The corners of his mouth lifted into a genuine smile.
This was excellent news.
He began to plan immediately.
The unknown Zoan type could be assigned to Gin.
With his new mastery of Soru and Tekkai, adding a Zoan transformation on top of that... Gin's strength would skyrocket.
This would solidify his position as Lancelot's right-hand enforcer. Excellent.
As for the Paramecia type, he could consider saving it for Daniel.
In Lancelot's mind, Daniel was the one who would eventually succeed him as Chief Inspector of the East Blue.
He would need a certain level of power, at least a Doriki of two or three thousand, to intimidate others and hold the post.
And Lancelot himself couldn't—and wouldn't—stay holed up in the East Blue forever.
But even if he left for the Grand Line, the East Blue needed to remain under his control.
This was his continuous, reliable source of wealth, his cash cow. Leaving Gin and Lina behind would be a waste of their talents; they were warriors meant for the Grand Line, not governors.
Daniel was the perfect choice.
As for the three billion... to Lancelot, it was nothing significant.
It was just a number.
"Don't worry, old man," Lancelot said, his voice calm and confident, cutting off his father's worried rambling.
"I have a way to get those three billion. You don't need to worry about it. But... I do need you to do me another favor."
"Go ahead," Burns said, relieved at his son's confidence. "Whatever your old man can help you with, I'll definitely get it done."
Lancelot: "I want Gin officially promoted to the rank of Deputy Inspector General. When I'm not around, he will be fully responsible for all matters in the East Blue."
"When you're... 'not around'?" Burns immediately caught the key point.
Lancelot smirked.
"Three billion Berries. Such a huge sum of money, I have to deliver it to Mariejois personally. Especially this first payment; there can be absolutely no mistakes. And while I'm away delivering the Berries, someone needs to handle all affairs in the East Blue for me, otherwise problems could easily arise."
"Alright," Burns agreed. "I'll take care of this. Gin, as Deputy. Done. But Lancelot... how are you going to get those three billion Berries in less than two months?"
Hearing this, Lancelot couldn't help but smile, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light.
"Simple, old man. Just spread the word. Use all your channels. I want every information broker, every pirate, and every bounty hunter from here to the Grand Line to hear the news: Captain Lancelot's new flagship is carrying a... special shipment... of three billion Berries in gold."
There was a long, cold silence on the other end of the line.
Burns, a man who had made his name playing politics among the Celestial Dragons, immediately understood Lancelot's intention.
His eyes narrowed, and his expression turned extremely serious.
"You... you're trying to lure a large number of pirates... to rob you?"
Lancelot's smile widened.
"Pirates, to me, are just walking Berries, old man. Not only do they each have considerable treasures of their own, but they themselves are the bounty. Three billion? Is it really that difficult?"
Burns frowned, a genuine flash of worry crossing his face.
He knew well how tempting a three billion Berry score would be, not just to the small-fry of the East Blue, but to the real monsters.
The super-rookies.
The crews from the Grand Line.
He could already foresee what kind of apocalyptic, all-out war his son was about to face if he really went through with this.