Smoke hung lazily in the air, dancing from the silver pipe clutched between Rick Blacknose's lips. On the creaking balcony of a two-story building, he sat like a crownless king, gazing at Mad Hat with eyes both weary and sharp. His right eye, hidden beneath a golden monocle, gleamed under the light of the setting sun.
"How many died today?" Rick murmured, speaking almost to the wind.
Behind him stood a tall man with cropped hair. His face was flat and firm, with a square jaw and a battle-scarred arm. Marlo, Rick's right-hand man, replied without embellishment.
"Thirteen. Two of them were children," he said calmly.
Rick nodded slowly, exhaling a smoke ring that broke apart before it fully formed. "Mad Hat's becoming more honest. This city shows its true face every day."
Marlo didn't smile. He simply stood, eyes scanning the city below like a hungry hawk. He spoke little, but when he moved, he was a storm.
"How's the slave market in the north?"
"Stable. The auction house just received a shipment from South Blue. Demand's high, prices are up."
Rick gave a small grin. "Desperation is a commodity that never runs out."
Footsteps echoed from inside—light but deliberate. A tall man with neatly combed hair appeared in the doorway to the balcony. His suit was wrinkled from fast travel, but the aura of intelligence and danger around him remained undiminished. This was Sexton, Rick's top informant and a master of reading the tides.
"News, Rick," he said plainly.
Rick turned slightly. "It better be worth disturbing my dusk."
Sexton produced a few rolled documents and placed them on the small table beside Rick.
"Gerald Lazhar is active again. He's been making unusual moves for the past few weeks. Most surprisingly, he's adopted two street kids."
Rick didn't react. Only his fingers tapped the pipe against the side of the chair. Marlo raised an eyebrow slightly, then settled back into stillness.
"Lazhar's always been stubborn," Rick said. "But he should've been done years ago. What woke the old tiger?"
Sexton unrolled the next document. It showed sketched portraits of two boys. One had sharp eyes and an immature face, yet wore an expression far too adult for his age.
"This is Bastien de Vill. An orphan now living with Lazhar. Our source says he has… an odd sharpness when reading people's movements. Possible early signs of Haki."
"And the other?"
"Arthur. Son of one of the prostitutes. His mother died in a raid a few years back. Now he's training under Lazhar."
Rick looked at the sketches without emotion. He flipped them over slowly, sliding them under his glass.
"Children," he sighed. "They always seem loud before they're relevant."
Marlo gently interjected, "But if they influence Lazhar's decisions, doesn't that make them… significant?"
Rick twirled the pipe in his fingers. "Not yet. But keep an eye on them. I want to know the moment they start becoming a nuisance."
Sexton slipped the remaining papers into a leather folder. "One more thing. The other rulers are uneasy. Those who once bowed to you are now talking about alliances. They smell weakness… or maybe opportunity."
Rick smirked. "If they think I'm weakening, good. It's better for your enemies to think you're asleep while you sharpen your knife."
He slowly rose from his chair. His figure was tall, lean, but full of latent strength. The pipe was set down, and he gripped a cane topped with a carved bird's head.
"Set the stage," he said flatly. "If Lazhar wants to dance again, we'll give him an orchestra. But let him think he's choosing the music."
He stepped toward the interior. Behind him, Marlo and Sexton exchanged a brief glance.
"And the kids?" Marlo asked.
Rick paused at the threshold. "Let them grow. Sometimes the best seeds are only worth harvesting when they're ready to burn."
Night began to fall on Mad Hat. The sin-drenched city drew in a long breath before the coming storm. In the alleys and rotting markets, Rick Blacknose—the smiling shadow—began weaving the threads of fate.
And on the far side of town, two boys trained hard, unaware they had just stepped into a great game. A game where blood, honor, and lies are never enough to win.