The Sea Cow tavern sat on Water 7's lower level, built into what had once been a ship's hull before some creative architect decided to turn maritime waste into drinking establishment. The air was thick with pipe smoke and the kind of conversations that stopped when strangers walked in. Perfect for someone trying to avoid government attention.
Kael nursed a mug of cheap ale while scanning the room for potential passage off the island. Merchant captains, freelance sailors, and the occasional pirate rubbed shoulders around scarred wooden tables, all united by the sea's democratic indifference to social standing. Somewhere among them might be someone willing to take on a navigator with government problems.
RECOMMEND CAUTION, the system whispered. SEVERAL INDIVIDUALS PRESENT SHOW SIGNS OF DEVIL FRUIT ABILITIES OR ADVANCED COMBAT TRAINING.
That wasn't entirely surprising. The Grand Line attracted dangerous people like honey attracted flies. But it also meant opportunity – the kind of individuals powerful enough to travel these waters safely might also be capable of helping him reach his mysterious destination.
A commotion near the bar caught his attention. Three men in matching leather coats were surrounding a lone woman, their body language suggesting this wasn't a friendly conversation. The woman had her back to Kael, but he could see she was armed – a cutlass hung at her side, its worn grip suggesting frequent use.
"Come on, sweetheart," one of the men was saying, his voice carrying the slurred confidence of someone who'd been drinking courage from a bottle. "Just one dance. We're lonely sailors, and you're the prettiest thing in this dump."
"I said no." The woman's voice was level, controlled, but Kael could hear the warning underneath. "Find someone else to bother."
"Now that's not very friendly," another man chimed in, reaching out to touch her shoulder. "Maybe we need to teach you some manners."
His hand never made contact.
The woman moved with lethal precision, grabbing the man's wrist and twisting until something cracked audibly. Her attacker yelped and stumbled backward, clutching his injured arm. In the same fluid motion, she spun to face the other two, her hand resting casually on her sword hilt.
"Anyone else want to discuss manners?" she asked.
Kael got his first good look at her face and felt something shift in his chest. She was probably in her mid-twenties, with sun-streaked brown hair tied back in a practical ponytail and eyes the color of storm clouds. There was something about her bearing – confident without being arrogant, dangerous without being cruel – that reminded him of the best officers he'd served under.
SIGNIFICANT COMBAT CAPABILITY DETECTED, the system noted. ALSO DETECTING UNUSUAL ENERGY SIGNATURE. RECOMMEND CONTINUED OBSERVATION.
The injured man's companions were apparently slow learners. They flanked their target, hands moving to weapons of their own. The tavern's atmosphere shifted as other patrons began to take notice, some backing away while others leaned forward with predatory interest.
"You're going to regret that, bitch," the apparent leader snarled, drawing a curved dagger. "Nobody embarrasses the Crimson Tide pirates in public."
Pirates. That explained their confidence and stupidity in equal measure. The Grand Line was full of small-time crews who thought reputation was more important than discretion.
The woman – clearly not intimidated by their threats – drew her cutlass with practiced ease. The blade was well-maintained steel with subtle engravings along the fuller. Not flashy, but clearly made for serious work.
"Last chance to walk away," she said calmly.
But the pirates were already moving, attacking from both sides with the kind of coordination that suggested they'd done this before. The leader came in high while his companion went low, trying to overwhelm her defenses through sheer aggression.
It didn't work.
The woman flowed between their attacks like water around stones, her blade deflecting strikes with minimal effort while her free hand maintained perfect balance. She wasn't just skilled – she was supremely confident, fighting with the ease of someone who'd faced worse odds and emerged victorious.
But confidence could be dangerous when facing unknown quantities. As she engaged the two pirates, Kael noticed the third man – the one with the injured wrist – circling behind her with a throwing knife in his good hand.
THE WOMAN'S COMBAT SKILLS ARE EXCEPTIONAL BUT SHE HAS NOT DETECTED THE FLANKING MANEUVER, the system observed. INTERVENTION WOULD BE STRATEGICALLY ADVISABLE.
Kael was already moving.
He reached the third pirate just as the man drew back his arm to throw. A simple shoulder check sent the attacker stumbling into a nearby table, scattering drinks and drawing curses from the displaced patrons. The throwing knife clattered across the floor, well away from its intended target.
"Oops," Kael said mildly. "Sorry about that. Didn't see you there."
The woman spared him a quick glance, her storm-grey eyes assessing and approving in the same instant. Then she was back to her fight, pressing her advantage against the two remaining attackers.
It ended quickly after that. With their surprise attack foiled and their friend groaning on the floor, the pirates found themselves outmatched by a woman who fought like she was born with a blade in her hand. Within moments, both men were disarmed and backing toward the door, supporting their injured companion.
"This isn't over," the leader spat, though his retreat rather undermined the threat. "The Crimson Tide doesn't forget—"
"The Crimson Tide doesn't matter," the woman interrupted, her voice carrying an authority that stopped the pirates cold. "I've sunk bigger crews than yours for less provocation. Now get out before I decide you're worth the paperwork."
The pirates fled, leaving behind only the smell of cheap liquor and wounded pride.
The tavern's normal bustle resumed gradually, though Kael noticed several patrons continuing to watch the woman with wary respect. Clearly, she had a reputation in these waters.
She sheathed her cutlass and turned to face Kael, extending her hand with a slight smile. "Marina Delmar. Thanks for the assist, though I had things under control."
"Kael Thornfield," he replied, shaking her hand. Her grip was firm and calloused from years of shipwork. "I'm sure you did, but three-on-one isn't sporting."
"Sporting." Marina laughed, a sound like wind chimes in a sea breeze. "I like that. Mind if I buy you a drink? It's the least I can do for someone with good timing and better instincts."
They found a corner table away from the tavern's main traffic, and Marina signaled the bartender for two mugs of something that didn't smell like ship's bilge. Up close, Kael could see she carried herself with the unconscious confidence of someone accustomed to command. Her clothes were practical sailing gear, well-maintained but showing the wear of serious use.
"So," she said, settling back in her chair, "what brings a Marine to a pirate dive like this?"
Kael blinked. "How did you—"
"Your posture. The way you move. Plus, you've got that look sailors get when they're used to following regulations." Marina took a sip of her drink and studied him with those unsettling grey eyes. "Recent discharge, if I had to guess. You've still got the bearing but none of the confidence."
SHE IS EXTREMELY OBSERVANT, the system noted. ALSO, ENERGY SIGNATURE ANALYSIS SUGGESTS SHE MAY POSSESS LATENT NAVIGATIONAL ABILITIES.
"Ex-Marine," Kael confirmed. "As of about six hours ago."
"What happened? Disagree with orders? Moral crisis? Or did someone discover you were too smart for your own good?"
The question was casual, but Kael could see she was genuinely curious. There was something about Marina Delmar that invited honesty – a quality that was probably useful for someone who needed to inspire loyalty in dangerous waters.
"Bit of all three," he said finally. "Lost my crew in a shipwreck. Started questioning whether I was serving the right cause."
Marina's expression softened. "Sorry. Losing people you're responsible for... that's a weight that never goes away."
"You sound like you speak from experience."
"Captain's burden," she said simply. "Every decision you make affects lives. Some of those decisions turn out to be wrong." She drained half her mug in one pull. "What are your plans now? Merchant marine? Fishing fleet? Or are you thinking of trying something more... entrepreneurial?"
The way she said "entrepreneurial" suggested she meant piracy. But there was no judgment in her voice, just curiosity about his intentions.
SHE IS EVALUATING YOU AS A POTENTIAL CREW MEMBER, the system observed. RECOMMEND CAREFUL RESPONSE. HER ABILITIES AND LEADERSHIP QUALITIES ALIGN WITH MISSION REQUIREMENTS.
"I'm a navigator," Kael said. "Good with charts, weather prediction, finding the best routes through dangerous waters. Beyond that..." He shrugged. "I guess I'm still figuring out what I want to do next."
Marina leaned forward, her eyes bright with interest. "How good a navigator?"
"Good enough to get you where you need to go, no matter how dangerous the waters."
"Confident. I like that." She reached into her jacket and pulled out an object that made Kael's breath catch. It was a compass, but unlike any he'd ever seen. The casing was made of some kind of dark metal that seemed to absorb light, and the face was covered with symbols that looked almost familiar.
COMPASS FRAGMENT DETECTED, the system announced with barely concealed excitement. CLASSIFICATION: LAUGH TALE NAVIGATION ARRAY, PIECE 3 OF 7. FUNCTIONAL CAPACITY: 61%.
"Ever seen anything like this?" Marina asked, setting the compass on the table between them.
Kael forced himself to appear calm, though his heart was racing. "Unusual design. Where did you find it?"
"Family heirloom. Been passed down through four generations of ship captains." Marina's expression grew serious. "Problem is, it doesn't work like a normal compass. Points in different directions depending on... well, depending on things I don't understand."
She activated some kind of hidden mechanism, and the compass face began to glow with soft blue light. The symbols shifted and moved like living things, forming patterns that Kael's enhanced perception recognized as star charts and current maps.
"My great-great-grandmother claimed it could guide ships to islands that don't appear on any map," Marina continued. "Course, she also claimed she could talk to Sea Kings, so the family always figured she was a bit touched."
THE FRAGMENT RESPONDS TO INTENT AND EMOTIONAL RESONANCE, the system explained. IN THE RIGHT HANDS, IT CAN INDEED LOCATE HIDDEN DESTINATIONS.
"What kind of islands?" Kael asked carefully.
Marina's smile held secrets. "The kind where legends say the greatest treasures are hidden. The kind that most people think are just stories." She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Tell me, ex-Marine Kael Thornfield. Do you believe in impossible places?"
Looking into those storm-grey eyes, feeling the weight of the compass fragment between them and the system's anticipation humming in his mind, Kael realized his search for a crew might be over before it had truly begun.
The question was whether Marina Delmar was ready to believe in the impossible journey he could offer her.
"I'm starting to," he said.