The sun was golden, painting Dressrosa in a peaceful light, but beneath its warmth, the island was anything but peaceful. News of their refusal to pay the Celestial Tribute had spread quickly, reaching even the furthest reaches of the Grand Line, carried by rumor, traders, and spies. What had begun as a defiant act was quickly spiraling out of control.
Solian waited in the palace, his shoulders relaxed, but the air around him was tense. The council room echoed with the chatter of voices, but there was no politicking today. His crew stood at attention, flanked by generals, nobles, and civilian leaders — all the faces of Dressrosa's new regime, a kingdom in transition, held together by Solian.
Milo, who had been going through a stack of reports, dropped one onto the table. "It's official," he said to her with a serious face. "The World Government has tagged us as a threat to international stability."
Solian sat back in his throne, his gaze distant. His fingers tapped the armrest in rhythm, ringing out the tense silence of the room. The news was crushing, but he hadn't expected it. He'd known this would occur from the start. He'd seen the games the World Government played, their need to control, their need to keep nations like Dressrosa under their boot.
"Them never wanted me to have Dressrosa," Solian panted, eyes growing cold. "They wanted puppet king. But that ain't me."
Kael crossed his arms, looking stern. "We knew they wouldn't let us off easy. They're not going to sit back quietly while we break their chains."
Vance cracked his knuckles. "Let them try it. I've been waiting for a good fight."
Itachi, having stayed back in the corner, finally said something, his voice low but unwavering. "The storm is coming. We have to be ready."
Solian stood up then, his cloak blowing behind him like a stream of fire. His voice was tough, heavy with a sense of irrevocableness. "Sound the warning. We will not bend. If the World Government wants war—"
He let the words hang, his power of Haki constructing for a moment, its weight crushing every single being in the room. His ability was not just within his words, but with the air itself that it was in.
"—and then they'll see what it means to stand in the face of Dressrosa."
The generals all inclined their heads, their faces hardened with determination. Solian's resolve had already coursed through them like a flame. They were with him, not only as soldiers, but as comrades to meet what they would have to face.
Whispers and Shadows
With each passing day, Dressrosa itself transformed. The once bustling city was filled with anticipation of war, yet the majority of streets remained clogged with daily business — or so it seemed on the surface, at least. Behind doors, however, preparation was underway.
Merchant ships had begun turning their ships about. Rumors of the actions of the World Government were being discussed in every pub, in every dark alleyway. Whispers lingered on the air like fog: armadas amassing on the horizon, warships changing their routes, bounties reconsidered. Solian's name was uttered with both reverence and fear. He was an icon of rebellion to some; an ill omen to others.
Solian had his own way of acquiring information. He got emissaries from surrounding states, some too terrified to openly join him, but others had made clandestine agreements. Smaller states, whose voices were overpowered by the World Government's dominance, had secretly sent food, weapons, and other supplies in support of Dressrosa's independence.
There was one letter, however, which Solian found particularly interesting. It was from Amazon Lily and bore the royal seal of Boa Hancock herself.
"The Pirate Empress recognizes your sovereignty," the letter began. "Rest assured that you are not alone."
Solian allowed himself a faint smile as he read the text. The Queen of the Kuja had sent word back. It wasn't official yet, but it was a crack in the World Government's stranglehold. And cracks, Solian knew, were fatal.
Beneath the Surface
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the quietness of the evening appeared to be deceptive. The Dressrosa streets were quiet, but it was the kind of quietness that hinted at something lurking just beneath the surface — a storm that hadn't yet broken, but would.
Solian stood on the palace balcony, his eyes on the horizon, where the sea stretched out to infinity before him. It was. different tonight. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation, the scent of salt blended with the tempest gathering on the horizon — both in the sky and in the world at large.
Itachi trailed behind him, his shape dissolving into shadows. The two of them stood there silently for a moment, watching the sea churn beneath a bleached-out moon.
"They're gathering," Itachi breathed, breaking the silence.
"I know," Solian replied, resolute. "They're not just watching. They're mobilizing to strike."
It was briefly silent before Solian shifted his gaze to Itachi. "Will you be ready?
Itachi watched his hand, his fingers popping with possible storm energy — a product of constantly practicing with the Storm-Storm Fruit. He did not say anything immediately, but Solian did not even hesitate. Itachi would be ready. Both of them would.
"I will," Itachi finally said, his voice one of gentle determination.
Solian allowed himself a narrow smile, but his eyes did not give. "Good. Because when the Marines come, it will not be an skirmish. It will be war."
Preparation for War
In the days preceding it, Dressrosa became war footing in preparation. The entire island hummed with energy. Soldiers drilled non-stop, mastering combat, but also mastery in staying alive. Civilians learned how to defend themselves, to combat if needed. Solian, despite the multitude of responsibilities on his hands, still managed to instruct the young fighters personally, passing on his skill with Armament Haki.
Itachi, however, toiled with the island engineers in designing new defense strategies, like the Storm Shields, a new defense utilizing his own abilities to protect strategic areas from enemy bombardment.
Vance and Milo handled the navy defenses, planting explosive traps beneath the harbor, ensuring that Dressrosa's seas were properly secure. Between, Kael continued to work on the black market, ensuring that their network of informants and spies was well-connected and well-stocked information-wise.
It was during one of these rare moments of respite that Milo cracked a joke, the tension in the air for a moment easing. "At this rate, we'll be more powerful than some of the Yonko crews."
Kael simply growled back, his eyes unwavering. "We'll have to be."
The Tide Turns
Later that evening, a broken scout ship sailed over the horizon. The crew was in shambles, their ship broken and hanging by a thread. The captain stumbled off the ship and collapsed at Solian's feet, wheezing for air, his eyes bulging in terror.
"They're here," the captain gasped, struggling to breathe. "A full Marine fleet. Admiral Green Bull. he's leading it."
Solian's expression darkened. He helped the man to his feet, his hand steady and calm, but his mind already racing.
"Rest now," Solian said softly. "You've done well."
As the captain was escorted away, Solian turned to his men, his jaw set in determination. This was no longer a question of political disagreement. The Marines were coming in force, and it was no longer a question of whether they would fight, but when.
The air around Dressrosa began to tingle, the distant thunder rumbling across the island. It was no longer a question of whether or not the storm would come — it had already come.