A few days had passed since the chaos of the Redfield's defeat. Alabasta's heavy atmosphere finally lifted, with the kingdom's streets buzzing back to life.
In the former Cobra Palace, Ross rose from bed, letting Queen Titi help him dress. Her gentle hands lingered on his shoulders.
"Settling in okay?" she asked softly.
"Same old me," Ross replied with a grin. "With Sora handling the kingdom's day-to-day, and that Redfield business sorted, Alabasta's warming up to outsiders like me."
She wrapped her arms around him from behind, her warm skin brushing his back—marked with faint red spots from their nights together. Now, he was her anchor. With Cobra gone, stability had returned, but she knew Ross's wandering spirit wouldn't stay rooted.
"Anything you want before you go?" he asked, turning to pull her close and run his fingers through her hair. "I can make it happen."
Today marked his departure, barring surprises. Alabasta's affairs were tied up. Next stop: Skypiea, to claim what was his. That Logia-type Rumble-Rumble Fruit up there was ripe for the taking—un-eaten, untouched. In the right hands, it could forge an S Class powerhouse overnight.
Queen Titi shook her head. She read his intent: a shot at real power, if she wanted it. But ambition like that wasn't her style. Having him even offer meant the world.
"I'm just focusing on the baby," she said, her hand drifting to her belly. "Your people are running things here now. I trust you."
Alabasta and Vivi tied for her heart's top spot. Ross? He was climbing fast, burrowing deeper by the day.
"Fair enough," Ross said, nodding. "If you need anything, hit up Zane. She's my right-hand for logistics. Spare time? Pick up some kingdom management skills—could use the help."
Talent was his bottleneck, especially for governing. Militarily, the Jaygarcia family packed a punch: his grandfather and him made four S Class heavyweights he could call on. Outside the World Government, that crew could steamroll the seas.
But without sharp minds to hold territory, conquests crumbled. The world's sprawl—endless islands, vast distances, teeming populations—demanded more than brute force. Slip-ups were inevitable without enough hands.
To lock down their gains, they'd need to groom loyal administrators. He'd already tasked Saint Saturn with it. But a Five Elder schooling common folk? Not practical. That left him, or trusted allies, to bridge the gap.
"If it helps you and Alabasta, count me in," Queen Titi said, her eyes firm. She'd share the load until Vivi came of age.
They shared a few more quiet words before Ross stepped out.
Zane, Gion, and the crew waited outside. Stella beamed up at him, briefing the latest.
"Lord Sakazuki's fully patched up—left for Alabasta this morning."
Admirals were built like tanks, but Sakazuki's all-out brawling had worn him down. To rule out lingering damage, Stella had channeled her Heal-Heal Fruit nonstop. It dragged out his recovery, but he was shipshape now.
Most of that time? Not rest—world broadcasts, per Ross's orders. In this Great Age of Pirates, rogue crews terrorized every corner. The Marines stretched thin, barely holding the Four Seas steady. And the flood of new pirates? Endless.
The Redfield's end was their pivot. Sakazuki stepped into the spotlight, rallying global morale under the Marine banner: no mercy for pirates, period. Flashy? Sure. But it fired up civilians and gave the overworked Marines a spine.
Public buy-in was key to Sakazuki's climb toward Fleet Admiral.
"Good work," Ross said, tousling Stella's golden curls. She'd been a gem from day one—unassuming, but rock-solid loyal.
"Hee, no sweat," she chirped, leaning into his touch. Then, her tone shifted: "Moira's been quiet lately. I dropped hints she could bolt, but she stuck around."
After they hit Alabasta, Moira had stayed aboard, skipping the shore leave. With Zephyr pulled to guard Queen Titi and Sora in Alubarna, the ship was a sitting duck. Moira's skills could've gotten her clear easy.
Even after the Redfield fell and Zephyr returned, she hadn't bolted.
"Playing the long game?" Ross arched a brow, intrigued.
He'd broken her—body and will—over these weeks. She was flipped, ripe for payback against her old crew. His plan: cut her loose soon, let her slink back to the Revolutionary Army.
Moira wouldn't swing for him, but she'd sure make Dragon's life hell.
Dragon's kid was due this year or next. Ross figured the plot's inertia—world's bias toward the big shots—would keep Luffy's timeline intact. Butterflies from his meddling? Possible, but destiny had pull.
Picture Moira's face if she learned Dragon ditched the fight for domestic bliss while she suffered. Pure fireworks.
"Dunno her angle," Stella admitted. "She snagged a Den Den Mushi while Zephyr was away—probably pinging the Revolutionary Army on the sly."
They'd clocked her disloyalty early, so surveillance was tight. Moira knew of Observation Haki in theory, but not how it worked. To them, she might as well have been shouting her moves.
"Keep tabs on her," Ross said, smirking. "Great Observation Haki drill."
Armament Haki had looser entry bars, but Observation demanded raw talent or grind. Beasts like the Redfield or Roger woke up with it. Even gentler souls, like Fish-Man Island's Queen Otohime, had the gift innate.
Stella's was serviceable after years tagging along—ship-range only, D-rank at best. But for babysitting one sullen prisoner? Perfect.