Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable from One Piece as far as chapter 455 (yes, I know, I'm a bit behind).

Nehszriah, this is for you—a second piece of thanks for the Conis/Wiper drawing, coupled with the apology that The New Age of Piracy was a little…odd.

The Price of Naïveté

"Kalgara!" Norland greeted with a broad grin. It was as though he had not been gone all these years; as though their friendship had not been crumbling until the last moment of his departure.

Kalgara was grinning as broadly as he and Norland greeted each other with fond clasping of hands, slaps on the back, and laughter. They were at a loss for words in the extent of their delight. Grins, tears, and laughter had once connected them; now grins and laughter took the place of words, and filled that space, somehow more fulfilling than any amount of words could have been.

"It's good to have you back, Norland," said Kalgara quietly, when he finally found his voice.

The only other time that Norland had ever seen him so overwhelmed with emotion was at their parting. Indeed, had Norland been the only one there, Kalgara may have broken into tears—and, of course, Norland would have followed in the blink of an eye. But Kalgara, even as emotion threatened to overwhelm him, remained conscious and suspicious of these richly dressed strangers that stood behind Norland.

"It's good to be back," said Norland, and was surprised at how thick his voice sounded.

And then the two of them were laughing and clapping each other on the back again.

"And who might this…savage be?" The voice was thick with disgust, and when Norland turned around, he was surprised to see the King looking at his friend with even more disgust. Had the king been anyone else, he would have narrowed his eyes in fury and snapped at them for doing such a thing—the King was presently looking Kalgara up and down and up again, as if he thought Kalgara too simple to notice the way he was staring at him in disgust—but this was the man to whom he had sworn loyalty for life.

"This is my friend, Kalgara," Norland introduced politely, inwardly praying that the King would wipe the disgust off his face before his friend lost his temper. "He is the best warrior among the Shandia."

"Shandia?" asked the King, not liking this strange-sounding name.

"Yes," said Norland. "Warriors of Shandora."

"And Shandora is this…city of gold?" the King made sure he had the record straight, forgetting his discomfort at once.

"Yes," smiled Norland, and, drunken with the delight of seeing his friend again after so many years, did not feel any more than a tingling of foreboding at his King's odd behavior regarding the city. This foreboding he shoved away.

Kalgara, however, looked suspiciously at the King and the greedy-looking beady-eyed men behind him. He didn't like this—something was off. Where were the men that had sailed with Norland last time? Who were these people? They did not look delighted to have reached the island, but rather relieved to be finally leaving the ship. Exhaustion was apparent in their demeanors. Weren't they used to handling ships? Then why had they come here, when Norland himself had said that this was the most dangerous of the five seas?

And why were their eyes shining at the mention of Shandora? Kalgara's eyes narrowed.

But Norland was here, and he was not about to make a big fuss about mere suspicion. He had done this twice now, and both times Norland had proven him wrong. Norland always knew what was best.

"Kalgara," Norland went on without a pause, "This is my King—like a chieftain, only this man rules a kingdom the size of a hundred villages or more."

Kalgara looked at the King. "But then how do the people consult with him?"

"Well, actually, most never even get to see him in their lifetimes. He has an Advisor, however"-Norland politely indicated the thin, beady-eyed man beside the King-"who suggests to him what might be best. If a person wants him to do something, they are allowed to go to court and request an audience with the King."

Kalgara frowned, turning this information over in his mind as he regarded the King. So he had far more power than any chieftain. That was…interesting, if not favorable.

"Why does he not bow?" the King demanded of Norland. "Why does he stare at me that way?"

"They do not have a custom of bowing here," Norland explained patiently. "They have a leader, a chieftain, who has all of their respect, but they never bow to him. All decisions are made at counsels that include most adult men of the village with the chieftain as their guide. So, in truth, their leader is more of a guide than a sovereign."

The King, to say the least, looked appalled by this seemingly barbaric custom. Kalgara found that he did not like the expression on the King's face at all. No, not in the least.

"We'll have a feast tonight to celebrate your return," Kalgara told Norland, the grin returning to his face.

"That sounds great," Norland agreed. "We can pitch in some wine and food, I'm sure."

"Norland!" hissed the king, grabbing Norland's arm. "We don't have that kind of supplies!"

"Don't worry," said Norland with a smile. "The Shandia will provide us with supplies for our return journey."

This time, neither Kalgara nor Norland noticed the alarmed glance that passed between the King and his Advisor—they were already deep in conversation, walking together into the woods towards the village. There was much to say, and neither could wait any longer. They were practically interrupting each other every few words as it was.

Neither noticed the King whisper something to the Advisor, then start after the two friends as the Advisor turned back toward the ship.

---

"No!" Norland laughed heartily, eyes shining as he leaned forward eagerly. "He didn't, did he?"

Kalgara smirked, all of his earlier suspicion forgotten entirely. "He did. Mousse stared at him like he'd lost his mind—I'll never forget that look, and I don't intend to let Seto forget it either—and when he realized that he'd been wrong, he thrust the flower into her hands, then ran off again."

Norland burst into laughter. "He actually thought that?" he gasped through his laugher. "That Mousse was just waiting for me to come back and wed her?"

Kalgara's smirk widened. "He actually did. Apparently he'd believed it all along, but just wanted Mousse to know how he felt. The next day, I caught him and Mousse in the forest."

Norland raised an eyebrow questioningly. That would suggest a romantic rendezvous…but Kalgara loved Mousse dearly and was protective of her to a fault, so that couldn't be it if it made him smirk like that. Kalgara's smirk widened into a grin at Norland's questioning look.

"She was lecturing him about how you were like an uncle or an elder brother to her, and was giving him quite the tongue lashing. He'd already proven himself a warrior, but I've never seen him look so timid."

"I imagine that put your mind to rest about their home life after they married," Norland grinned.

"Oh, naturally," laughed Kalgara. "Anyone would think that Seto was in charge, but I've read all the signs, and can tell you this much—he's got about as much power in that house as the clay water pot."

"Interesting analogy," Norland chuckled, and then paused to take a gulp of the village's wine that he and Kalgara had brought out with them. "So Mousse is a household tyrant, then. I never would have imagined."

"She's always had a strong mind. She's just very good at keeping up the appearance of the soft, submissive woman that is expected of her."

Norland smiled widely, thinking of the young woman as she had been all those years ago, ready to end her life reluctantly by her own hand—discard her own powerful desire to live—for her father's order and the village's belief. Yes, she definitely had mental strength. "Are you expecting any grandchildren yet?"

Norland chuckled with amusement as Kalgara choked on his wine and spat it back out as he thumped a fist to his chest. Gasping for breath, Kalgara looked up at Norland. "Don't even suggest it!"

Norland's chuckle turned to a laugh, and Kalgara joined in without ado; a cheerful chatter beside them indicated that Norla was laughing as well. This was so much like the old days, Norland reflected. They had left the feast after a short while, taking with them a barrel of the village's wine. So it was that they now sat on the cliff where they had once sat to watch sunsets as they drank and talked and laughed.

Norla had apparently sensed that something important at ground level, for he had appeared out of the forest, and come enthusiastically to join the feast. The King and his men had panicked, some even drawing weapons and creeping toward the viper, but Norland had absolutely refused to allow them to lay a hand on Norla—as had every one of the Shandia, though none had listened—and eventually they had complied. When Norland and Kalgara had disappeared into the woods, never one to miss an opportunity to follow his two favorite people in the world, Norla had followed.

"Perhaps we should return to the festivities," Kalgara suggested as he drained the last of his wine.

"Yes," Norland agreed, lifting his own empty mug as he stood. "They'll start missing us soon."

Kalgara grinned. "I'm sure they already have. Especially your men. They cling to you like cubs to their mother!"

"In a way," Norland laughed, "they are cubs. They've never been to sea before."

Kalgara stared. "Then why did you bring them? Why not the men from last time? We extend our friendship to them as well—particularly Doctor."

Norland smiled apologetically. "Yes, I had hoped that they would come with me again. They were a good lot. Unfortunately, the King insisted on bringing a fleet of his own soldiers."

There was no break in their conversation as they began to make their way through the dense forest.

"And you just accepted that?"

Norland shrugged. "In my land, we all swear oaths of loyalty to the King. To defy him is one of the greatest offences a person can commit."

"But why would he want to come with an army?" asked Kalgara. "I assume that most of the ships did not make it, since there was no such fleet when you arrived…"

Norland nodded grimly. "Unfortunately, ours was the only ship to survive. And even then, only just barely."

"Finally found something that could beat you down, Norland?" asked Kalgara, a teasing glint in his eyes that lightened the mood considerably. Norland laughed heartily.

"I'd hope that it would take more than a couple storms, a couple sea kings, and a crew of incompetent sailors to beat me down."

"Always the hero, aren't you?"

"No more than you're always the demon."

"Naturally."

But their conversation became a trickle that slowed and eventually ceased as they neared the village. It was odd; by now, they ought to have been able to see light from the bonfire and hear echoes from the drums and laughter. Instead, all was dark and silent.

When they stepped into the village, in fact, there was no one in sight. All there was to be seen were dishes scattered across the ground as though carelessly discarded; the remains of a bonfire sat blackened at the center of the village, but it was not yet ashes; the logs still retained their shape for the most part. It was still wet, obviously doused in water to put it out.

"Where is everyone?" Norland muttered, looking around. Kalgara frowned and took the liberty of peering into one of the windows. Norland's unease only grew when Kalgara noted that the village was completely deserted. This was almost like the first time that he had come—when the sacrificial ritual had been in progress.

Kalgara, however, was only slightly uneasy at the thought that those soldiers were wandering around, and otherwise completely calm. "We go to Shandora sometimes during feasts. It is, after all, our greatest pride, and when half of us are that drunk, we want nothing more than to revel in its glory. And with guests, how could we resist showing off a little?"

"Of course," smiled Norland, not a little relieved. As much as he wanted to deny it, he had been noticing odd things about the King's behavior, and for a moment, he had almost thought… But no. How could he even think such a thing?

As Kalgara and Norland headed for the ruins of Shandora, conversation slowly picked up again. By the time they reached the steps, Norland was in the middle of a detailed description of his country's political system, to which Kalgara listened with fascinated skepticism.

"Norland," Kalgara suddenly interrupted, his face suddenly frozen. They were in the tunnel of stairs, on their way down to Shandora.

The sounds coming from below were not those of merry, drunken laughter and singing and dancing as they should have been. Instead, they could hear the murmur of the subdued voices of those who do not wish discovery; feet pattering this way and that; the clink of metal against metal; the scraping of something heavy being dragged across the stone floor…

Kalgara recognized the terrible sound at the same moment that Norland did. The two of them began to bolt down the rest of the stairs in a perfectly unified movement.

"Looters," he hissed. "We must have missed a ship coming."

"But how could they have found Shandora?"

Kalgara had a feeling he knew what had happened, but he said nothing. He was not going to even suggest the possibility until he was sure of it. Yet, he could not help hoping that his suspicion of Norland's 'king' and 'advisor' was unfounded—a piece of his imagination, born of the natural tendency to be suspicious of strangers.

When they leapt out into Shandora, they looked around. Kalgara only briefly glanced around before his face turned terrible and scarlet with fury; Norland, on the other hand, stared and stared and went on staring, not quite able to believe what lay before his eyes.

The Shandia were collapsed here and there on floors and roofs. Beside them—beside the entrance—was a pile of rough hemp bags. They were all tied at the necks, but some of these ties had been done with so much haste that they were already coming undone. Golden crowns, necklaces, armlets, bracelets, statues, and other such things spilled out from within. And before him stood the King and his Advisor, gazing greedily up at the bell that was so dear to Shandora that it may have been Shandora itself. The bell was being encircled by chains—it did not take a genius to note that they wished to attempt to heave it out of the city from above.

Kalgara gave a cry of rage and leapt forward with his spear. He saw red, and the familiar bloodlust rose within him. He went for the King, his spear ready to penetrate the man who was destroying all that he stood for—and was stopped.

He looked at the two soldiers who had dared block his way. Kalgara narrowed his eyes with a malicious, bloodthirsty smile widening his lips before he plunged.

But again he was blocked, and this time with a far more formidable strength. This time, Kalgara did not turn to the man; he did not even look his way.

"Norland," he acknowledged.

"Kalgara." The man's voice would have sounded calm and controlled to anyone else; but Kalgara knew him well, and could hear the strain in his voice. He knew at once that Norland had known nothing of the others' intentions.

Kalgara turned very slowly to face Norland. He stood and regarded his friend for a moment with cold eyes. "This may be your leader; these may be your comrades. But even you, Norland, would not be excused for something like this."

Norland nodded, and Kalgara saw a flicker of anguish flit over the man's face. "I know. Just…wait a moment. Just…just let me try to…"

Kalgara heard the slight crack in Norland's voice. He knew men of greed such as these. No matter what Norland said to them, it would make no difference. They were determined to take all valuables of Shandora. But Norland…Norland was his friend. Norland understood their ways, and would never stand for something like this.

So Kalgara took a step back and focused deadly eyes on the men, his spear still pointed at them, but did not move to strike. "Don't move. I'll let Norland talk; but if any of you move, you'll be dead then and there." He was satisfied to see gulps and fear and shudders all around. Never had he been more gratified for his ability to look intimidating.

"Your Majesty," Norland addressed the King carefully, "this is a great insult. They are our friends—they naturally drive all trespassers away, but have allowed us to enter. It is no small honor. And that bell that you have in chains is incomparably sacred to them. They would give their lives to protect it."

Suddenly, the King let out a bark of laughter. "'They'? Who is 'they'? The single man standing beside you? Do you expect him to be able to handle two hundred of my best soldiers all alone? The rest already have given their lives for this, can't you see, Norland?"

Norland felt himself slowly go burning hot. He felt his hands beginning to shake.

"They welcomed us—shared their food, sparse as it is, with us to feast—and you do this, Your Majesty?"

The King scoffed. "Barbarians, in possession of such splendid gold as this? No. I think not. We are more worthy of this! Can you not see, Norland? Imagine the experiments you could do with wealth like this—and make no mistake, I intend to allow you a good share of this for the service that you have done us by leading us here."

Norland went cold and he froze on the spot. Yes, he had, hadn't he? He had believed so firmly that the King was simply interested in seeing the city and the mysterious people who guarded it that he had never even considered the motive of greed.

This tragedy was all his fault. So he must do something—anything—before it grew any worse.

"Your Majesty—please. Leave this place, and leave all the gold behind. I will remain here and take the punishment for this act in your place. So all of you, please—leave now."

Kalgara only barely managed to keep the emotions from his face. Norland knew well that punishment for something like this would be death. He was offering his own life, for this man's? The very thought made Kalgara's blood boil. Norland was a kind, honorable man—a thousand ordinary men could not be more worthy of life than Norland. This 'king'—he was no more than an impersonation of greed, just like so many others. And Norland was willing to die for him.

The King laughed. "Really? How honorable of you, Norland. But all that remains of the barbarians is one man. Will he punish you and be satisfied. I think not. No, Norland—he would wish to follow his village, would he not?"

"No," Kalgara growled before Norland could answer. "He would not. He will slice you until you are but a pile of flesh and blood and cloth. Norland has offered you a chance to live. Obviously he sees something in you that I do not. I recommend you take that chance. I see no reason why I shouldn't flay you alive."

The King did not even make any move to acknowledge that Kalgara had spoken, though the way he swallowed a little nervously told Kalgara that he had definitely heard.

Norland felt fury well up within him. Who did this man think he was? He was the King, certainly, but not of this land. He had no more authority than an ordinary man here. Could he not see that? Why was he treating the Shandia as though they were no more than cattle to be guided and their nonsense endured?

Suddenly, he simply could not see why he had vowed loyalty to this man. Why he had always assumed that because he was a king, he had the best interests of the people in mind. No, this man was a greedy monster.

"Very well," Norland said quietly. "If you shall not hear either of us, then know this—I hereby renounce all titles I formally held, and my status as citizen of Lubneel Kingdom. Thereby I revoke my vow of loyalty to you. If you would loot Shandora, then you must go through both Kalgara and myself."

The King stared at Norland in momentary shock. Then he closed his open mouth and sniffed. "I see. So be it. Men! Attack!"

Kalgara grinned as he turned to stand back-to-back with his friend. Finally Norland was talking sense. The fight was two against two hundred, and yet it was brief. Norland was taking care to only injure, not kill, the men he was fighting, and conveyed this message to Kalgara in a single look. Kalgara may not have been happy about it, but respect for what his friend had just done overwhelmed bloodlust, and he did the same.

Within five minutes, a stream of terrified soldiers—King and Advisor in their midst—were screaming and bolting back up the stairway towards the ship, gold entirely forgotten. Kalgara followed with no hesitation, his eyes wild and his mouth stretched into a terrible smile that frightened his enemies onward.

Norland stood at the stairway entrance after the others were gone, his sword dropping from his hand. Then he turned to the Shandia lying scattered about. Sadly, he crouched near one, hoping that it had at least been a painless death—he was doubtful that it had been honorable, so spared himself the emotional exhaustion of wishing it be so only to find out later that it was not so.

He looked the body over, but saw no wounds. He noted the cup by the man's hand, however, and frowned. The only source of wine here was a barrel that appeared to have come from the King's ship… Realization struck Norland then: poison. The King had offered the Shandia some of his own wine, poisoned for this very purpose.

Norland was cold, inside and out, at the thought that anyone could be so ruthless. But then he frowned. Had they had any poison onboard? The only thing potentially harmful that they had had was saro, but saro did not kill, only-

The man gave a grunt and began to stir, and Norland's heart leapt in relief, a grin crossing his face. He had told the King that saro, used to cure fevers in tiny doses, could be harmful when taken in amounts larger than a drop a day. The King, no doubt, interpreted 'harmful' as 'fatal', when in reality, it was only enough to knock a person out for a time.

Others began to stir, and he smiled. Feeling considerably more lighthearted, he went to return the gold to the houses, toss their bags into the bonfire, and unwrap the chains from the bell.

"They've left," Kalgara told him upon returning. Then he noted Norland's wide grin and stopped. "Did I miss something?"

"The King made a mortal error," said Norland seriously, though the grin still would not leave his face. "He gave the village a poison that knocks people out for about an hour—but most certainly doesn't kill them."

Kalgara's eyes widened, and a grin spread across his face as well. "Well then. It would seem that you did yourself a favor by revoking that vow of loyalty of yours."

"I agree there," Norland sighed, looking around. "I'm so sorry, Kalgara. I didn't…if I'd known what…how terrible-"

Kalgara waved a hand at him. "Don't worry about it. They didn't get away with the stuff. And now you have a place with us, obviously, since you have no means of going back, and even if you did, you just ensured yourself some sort of punishment there, I think." Norland stared blankly, so Kalgara went on. "Welcome to the ranks among the Shandia, Norland."

Norland's eyes widened—no outsider had ever been admitted among the Shandia, he was sure—and then smiled. "Thank you, Kalgara."

Kalgara rolled his eyes. "Well, at the very least, I now know your weakness."

Norland raised an eyebrow challengingly. "Oh? And what's that?"

Kalgara smirked. "Naïveté, obviously."