The halls of the Ooka-Hoop Administrative Building stretched before them like the spine of some ancient beast, its white stone walls adorned with intricate carvings that told the story of Amiso's people. The rhythmic tapping of Ash Dasan's cane against the polished floor marked their passage, a sound that echoed through the corridors like a heartbeat.
Marya walked beside the War Chief, her tall combat boots silent, her mismatched eyes scanning the carvings with guarded curiosity. Her long raven hair swayed with each step, and her leather jacket—the one with the Heart Pirates Insignia—was zipped halfway, revealing the casual shirt beneath. Sanza darted at her side, his small frame practically vibrating with barely contained energy, his bamboo practice sword tucked into his belt. Atlas brought up the rear, his rust-red fur catching the torchlight, his blue sapphire eyes sweeping the hall with the lazy vigilance.
Ash Dasan's voice was a low rumble, "The ancestors are truly looking out for Amiso. Your arrival—your intervention—it was not coincidence. It was providence."
Marya's voice was flat, deliberate. "Why were the God's Knights here?"
Ash sighed, "We were betrayed by one of our own. A man named Gideon Chire. He sold us out to the World Government in exchange for power and position." He paused, his cane striking the floor with an ominous rhythm. "We do not restrict our trade to be exclusive with Mary Geoise. We have also supported the Revolutionary Army, as well as others. We have also been pursuing a deeper understanding of our people's history."
Marya nodded, her mismatched eyes fixed on the carvings ahead. "And that history—it led you to the Sun Eater."
Ash's voice carried a note of grim acknowledgment. "It led us to a truth we were not prepared to face."
Before Marya could respond, a voice boomed down the hall, sharp and indignant, of a man who had been pushed too far.
"THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE! MY LIFE'S WORK WAS DEMOLISHED ALL BECAUSE OF HER ARROGANCE!"
"Like, whatever. I, like, told you! The engine, like, burned out because the portal, like, collapsed or whatever! That's not, like, my fault!"
Marya's lips curved into a small smirk. She recognized that voice. And she recognized the response that followed.
Ash gestured toward the doorway ahead, "We are here. Please, step inside."
Marya rounded the corner into the meeting room, Sanza and Atlas close behind.
The chamber was spacious, its walls lined with shelves of ancient texts and maps. A large wooden table dominated the center, its surface scarred with the marks of countless meetings. Galit Varuna stood with his arms crossed, his sharp emerald eyes fixed on the arguing pair with the expression of a man who had long ago tuned out chaos. His long neck was held in that loose, observant S-curve, and his fingers twitched toward the tactical slate at his hip.
Bianca Yvonne Clark stood with her hands on her hips, her waist-length black hair escaping from its messy bun in wild tendrils. Her grease-stained overalls were worn open over a floral blouse, and her large magnifying goggles were pushed up on her forehead. "Like, seriously, Professor, I told you! The energy matrix was, like, unstable! It's, like, not my fault the portal—"
Marya scans the three elders, nodding in greeting, pleasure.
Professor Manabu Kinsho eyes land on Marya and he round on her, "You!" he points, "Are you her captain?"
Marya raises a brow at him then tilts her head to Bianca who just rolls her eyes shaking her head. Professor Manabu Kinsho continues, "I want to know what you are going to do about this?"
Marya asks, eyebrow arced, "about what?"
Professor Manabu Kinsho continues, face red, vigilantly pointing at Bianca, "Your…. Your…. Whatever she is blew up my engine."
Marya looks to Galit, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Jannali Bandler leaning against the wall, her athletic frame coiled with tension. Her full afro was covered by a stylish headscarf, and her large, expressive brown eyes swept the room with the intensity of a huntress. Her golden hoop earrings glinting, and Gosan—her retractable spear—hung at her hip, the weapon humming with the predatory awareness of the Hatzegopteryx within. "Don't stress, mate. Just fix it."
Professor Manabu Kinsho whips around in a furry, face beat red, eyes bulging, "just fix it! It cannot just be fixed!"
Charlie Leonard Wooley stood beside her, his vintage pith helmet somehow still in place despite the chaos. His crisp khaki shirt and shorts were immaculate, and his overloaded cargo vest bulged with scrolls, ink bottles, and crumbling notebooks. He cleared his throat with a sharp, pointed sound. "Ahem! Perhaps if we review some of the—"
Professor Manabu Kinsho whirled around, his face beat red, his eyes bulging with fury. His wild mane of silver-streaked dark chestnut hair stood on end, and his heavy, patch-covered utility apron flapped with each agitated gesture. "NO! There is nothing to review! There is nothing to—"
Eldon Gretok's voice cut through the chaos, low and weary, unimpressed by the argument. "Professor Manabu Kinsho, I understand your frustration. But please remember that these people are the reason we are able to stand here and have this conversation."
Professor Kinsho's voice rose to a screech. "I demand compensation!"
Bianca rolled her eyes, her voice flat and unimpressed. "Like, for what? It was, like, ancient tech. You didn't, like, build it or anything!"
Professor Kinsho's face went from red to purple. "How could you? I have spent years—"
Galit placed a hand on Bianca's shoulder, with calm authority. "Enough."
Nola Lorn stepped forward, her warm, gentle alto spoke with maternal wisdom. "We have all experienced losses." She held up a hand as Professor Kinsho opened his mouth to protest, her eyes flashing with a quiet steel. "While I appreciate your loss, understand that lives have been sacrificed so that you may continue with your work."
Professor Kinsho's mouth opened, then closed. He seemed to deflate, his shoulders slumping.
Rudra Soul's deep, resonant baritone spoke with the weight of prophecy. "I believe that is compensation enough, don't you?"
Professor Kinsho became rigid, his face still flushed but his protests dying in his throat.
Ash Dasan, mind made up. "Now, if there is nothing further, we would like to move on to other topics." He gestured toward the door, his tone brooking no argument. "Professor, Asper—thank you for your time."
Professor Kinsho's head swiveled as the council members stood resolute, their expressions unchanging. He marched toward the door, his footsteps heavy with wounded pride.
Asper Pale bowed, their lanky frame folding with the awkward grace of someone who had learned to navigate social situations through imitation rather than instinct. Their slate-gray hair fell into their large, unblinking dark gray eyes, and their voice carried that rapid-fire, breathless quality that emerged when they were stressed. "Thank you for your time! We look forward to the flag posting ceremony!"
They rushed after Professor Kinsho, their scuffed leather shoes clicking against the stone.
Marya looked at Bianca, her voice carrying a note of dry amusement. "Blowing up more stuff?"
Bianca shook her head, flicking a wrist with theatrical dismissal. "Like, whatever."
Atlas's grin was sharp, amused. "You can't go around blowing up other people's toys and expect them to be okay with it."
Bianca glared at him, her voice flat. "Like, seriously?"
Atlas chuckled, his blue eyes gleaming.
Nola Lorn gestured toward the table, "Dracule Marya, please. We are in your debt. Have a seat."
Marya nodded, pulling out a chair and settling into it. The leather creaked beneath her weight. Her mismatched eyes swept the table, cataloging each face with the guarded attention.
Eldon Gretok held his chin in observation. "It is remarkable."
Marya raised a brow. "What is?"
Eldon's eyes met hers, his voice flat and thoughtful. "The resemblance. There is no mistaking it."
Jannali leaned forward, her warm accent, curios,. "Mate, what's going on with your eye?"
Marya looked at her, her voice flat and deliberate. "Think it has something to do with the Celestial Omen."
Eldon's fingers intertwined as he placed them on the table, with the weight of ancient knowledge. "About that—could it be that you are a descendant of the silver-eyed people?"
Marya nodded, her voice flat but curious. "Yes. My mother was silver-eyed. What do you know of them?"
Eldon's voice was low, measured, with the weight of stories passed down through generations. "Only stories and legends. It is said they are a people of longevity who bridge the many realms and could separate one's soul from their body."
Galit's voice cut through, sharp and analytical. "It appears she did more than that."
Everyone nodded in agreement.
Marya sighed, not surprised by revelations about her own bloodline. "It is not something I have a lot of experience with."
Ash's voice was flat, observant. "Then it is a recent awakening."
Marya nodded. "Yes, after..."
Sanza placed a small hand on her arm, with fierce determination of a child. "Don't worry, Big Sis. That won't happen ever again."
Marya looked at him, a little confused, then smiled—a rare expression that softened the sharp edges of her face.
She turned her attention to the council, her voice flat but deliberate. "It is my understanding that you would like to fly the flag of the Red Hair Emperor."
The council members nodded. "Yes. What is your connection with him? Are you a captain in his fleet?"
Marya sighed, "He is my uncle."
The council gasped in pleased shock. Rudra Soul's deep voice replied. "That is an astonishing lineage."
Marya nodded, her voice flat. "I am aware." She paused, her mismatched eyes sweeping the table. "If you choose to fly his flag, expect a visit in the future. He is otherwise occupied at the moment, but you will have the protection of his fleet as long as you are willing to provide support when needed."
The council members exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from shock to satisfaction.
Eldon' asked. "And what would that support entail?"
Marya's voice was flat, deliberate. "Resources. Information. Shelter if needed. Nothing more than what you would expect from any ally." She paused, her mismatched eyes sweeping the table. "But understand this—Shanks does not make empty promises. If he says he will protect you, he will. And if you betray him, he will not forget."
Ash responded, "We understand. And we accept."
Marya nodded, her voice flat but carrying a note of finality. "Then we have an agreement."
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