Meanwhile in Marineford…..
The atmosphere in Fleet Admiral Sengoku's office at Marine Headquarters was, for a precious few moments, almost peaceful.
Sunlight streamed through the large window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the quiet air. On his desk sat a simple, unadorned plate of rice crackers.
For Sengoku, this was a rare indulgence, a tiny island of calm before the storm he knew was coming. The execution of Portgas D. Ace was a lit fuse, and at the other end was the full, terrifying might of the Whitebeard Pirates.
He picked up a cracker, the crisp sound satisfyingly loud in the silence, and took a bite, closing his eyes as he savored the simple flavor.
The peace was shattered by the door slamming open with enough force to rattle the frame. A young, panicked-looking marine soldier stood panting in the doorway.
The sudden intrusion startled Sengoku so badly that he inhaled a piece of the cracker, triggering a violent coughing fit.
He pounded his chest, his face turning red as he glared daggers at the terrified soldier, who seemed to shrink under the weight of the Fleet Admiral's fury.
Once he had recovered, his voice was a low dangerous growl. "Speak."
The soldier swallowed hard, his words tumbling out in a rushed, breathless jumble.
"F-Fleet Admiral! Urgent report from the New World! A massive confrontation has been detected between two Emperor-level forces! The Red-Haired Pirates and the Beast Pirates of Kaido have engaged in combat! The energy signatures are… catastrophic, sir!"
Sengoku's glare softened, replaced by a look of profound, weary relief. He leaned back in his chair, the tension draining from his shoulders. This was the best news he'd heard all week.
With Shanks and Kaido locked in a stalemate, neither would be able to interfere in the upcoming war with Whitebeard.
The carefully laid trap at Marineford would not be sprung prematurely by an unexpected Yonko alliance or a third-party assault.
"Understood," Sengoku said, his voice returning to its usual authoritative tone.
"Maintain long-range surveillance. Do not, under any circumstances, engage. Observe only. Report any significant changes. Dismissed."
The soldier snapped a hasty salute, looking immensely relieved to be leaving the office alive, and scurried out, closing the door much more gently than he had opened it.
Alone again, Sengoku allowed himself a small, grim smile. One less variable to worry about. His mind, however, immediately drifted to another, more personal problem: Monkey D. Garp.
The Hero of the Marines had been gloomy since Ace's capture. His usual boisterous laughter was gone, replaced by a heavy, gloomy silence that was more unnerving than any outburst of rage.
Sengoku knew the torment his old friend was enduring, the grandson he had raised, the son of the man they had chased for decades, now set to be executed by the very institution Garp had dedicated his life to.
He sighed, running a hand over his face. There was nothing he could do.
He could only hope that Garp's sense of justice, his lifelong commitment to the Marines, would prevail over his familial love when the battle began. It was a fragile, desperate hope.
Pushing his personal concerns aside, Sengoku refocused on the monumental task at hand. He pulled a stack of official documents towards him. On top were the dossiers and summons for the Seven Warlords of the Sea.
He glanced over the names, a snort of derision escaping him. A necessary evil, these pirates. He picked up his official stamp, the metal cool in his hand, and brought it down on each document with a series of firm, decisive thuds.
"Send in an adjutant." He spoke as he pressed the intercom on his desk.
A moment later, a sharp, efficient-looking officer entered and saluted. "Sir!"
"Dispatch these summons immediately to every living Warlord," Sengoku commanded, handing over the stamped papers.
"They are to report to Marineford for the execution and the anticipated engagement with the Whitebeard Pirates. Their presence is mandatory."
The adjutant hesitated for a fraction of a second. "And if… if one of them refuses, sir?"
Sengoku's eyes hardened into chips of flint. "If they refuse?" he repeated, his voice dropping to a deadly calm.
"Then they are to be arrested on the spot for dereliction of duty and treason against the World Government. Their Warlord status will be revoked immediately. Is that clear?"
"Crystal clear, sir!" the adjutant barked, taking the papers and executing a perfect about-face before hurrying out to carry out the order.
Sengoku looked at the list again, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. 'A pity that Crocodile and Gecko Moria are no longer available,' he thought grimly. 'Both taken out by that damnable Sea Scourge, Ragnar. The boy is creating power vacuums even when he's not trying.'
...
Across the world, the summons, delivered by Facsimile Snails or swift courier ships, found their targets.
In the opulent, sun-drenched palace of Dressrosa, Donquixote Doflamingo lounged on his throne, a glass of wine in hand. A subordinate handed him the marine communique. Doflamingo's sharp-toothed grin widened as he read it.
"Fufufufu… The world's greatest stage is being set, and we're all invited to the performance. A war to define an era. How could I possibly refuse?" The chaos of a full-scale war was the perfect environment for the Spider to weave his webs and profit from the carnage.
...
In his castle on Kuraigana Island, Dracule Mihawk, the world's greatest swordsman, received his summons with his typical stoicism. He read the brief message, his piercing hawk-like eyes showing a flicker of interest.
The chance to observe the power of the "Strongest Man in the World," Edward Newgate, in what would likely be his final battle, was a compelling reason to leave his solitude. He gave a slight nod, a silent acceptance of the call to arms.
...
On the cutting-edge island of Egghead, the cyborg Bartholomew Kuma, his body undergoing its final modifications and programming under the watchful eyes of Dr. Vegapunk's satellites, received the order through a direct data-link.
There was no reaction from the once-king, now a mindless weapon of the World Government. The order was simply logged into his systems, another directive to be obeyed without question or hesitation.
…..
And somewhere in the dark, damp hold of a nondescript pirate ship, the newest Warlord, Marshall D. Teach, laughed uproariously as he read the summons.
"ZEHAHAHA! It's time! It's finally time!" His crew, the Blackbeard Pirates, grinned around him. This was the moment they had been waiting for.
The chaos of the war was the perfect cover, the perfect distraction, for Teach to execute his grand, sinister plan and seize the power he believed was his destiny.
...
Meanwhile, on the secluded, women-only island of Amazon Lily, a different kind of tension filled the place.
With Empress Hancock away, having personally sailed out to retrieve her "captain," the mantle of leadership fell to the wise and weathered Elder Nyon.
The serene atmosphere of the village was broken by the urgent ringing of a Den Den Mushi. It was a direct Facsimile transmission from Marineford.
Elder Nyon accepted the scroll, her old, gnarled hands trembling slightly as she unrolled it. Her eyes scanned the formal, demanding script.
A mandatory summons for Boa Hancock, Warlord of the Sea, to report to Marineford for the execution of Portgas D. Ace and the ensuing war with the Whitebeard Pirates.
A deep, weary sigh escaped her lips. She looked out over the lush, vibrant landscape of her home, the home she had protected for so long.
"Newgate…" she whispered to the empty room, her voice thick with a sadness born of decades of knowing how the world worked.
"Is it your time, then? Has the world finally grown tired of your protective shadow?" She sighed again, the sound carrying the weight of her years.
Her primary concern, however, was not for her ex-crewmate the legendary Whitebeard, but for her people and their absent Empress.
Hancock was with Ragnar now, bound to him by a loyalty that far surpassed her nominal allegiance to the World Government.
She would never answer this summons. And when she didn't, the full wrath of the Marines would fall upon Amazon Lily. The protection of the Warlord system would be stripped away, and their island would be exposed.
She clutched the scroll tightly, her knuckles white. She thought of the confident, powerful young man who had stolen her Empress's heart.
"Sea Scourge Ragnar," she murmured. "You made a promise. You promised to find a new, safe home for my people, a place beyond the reach of the World Government. I can only pray you are a man of your word. The clock is ticking now. When will you honor your promise?"