Leo didn't wake up until the sun was high in the sky. As he lay in a bed far softer than anything he'd known on the open sea, he couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the previous day.
He had learned a vital lesson: never project modern, utilitarian logic onto the people of this world. Their hearts moved faster than their brains. If he hadn't tried to be clever with his "Thousand and One Nights" cliffhanger, Hancock might have actually boarded a ship with him yesterday.
He felt a twinge of urgency. If his memory served, a man named Enel was currently—or would soon be—terrorizing a land in the clouds. If Leo could get his hands on the Rumble-Rumble Fruit before that lightning-addicted maniac, he'd have all the self-preservation he'd ever need.
But ten years in Mariejois had taught him one thing above all else: patience. When you're a guest of the Empress, you don't fight the tide. You learn to swim in it.
After the storytelling session, he had returned to the palace with Hancock. Once he had shared his history with her sisters, Sandersonia and Marigold, they had accepted him with open arms.
Pain is a universal language among slaves. The Gorgon sisters bore the same invisible scars he did, and that shared trauma created a bond stronger than any blood oath.
Hancock hadn't let him stay in the guest quarters. She knew that a man as physically "defenseless" as Leo wouldn't survive a single night among the curious, predator-like warriors of the capital. In the royal palace, his virtue—and his life—were under her personal protection.
He had a busy schedule ahead. While he waited for the Navy's inevitable arrival to formalize the Warlord invitation, he wanted to see who they'd send. Would it be a powerhouse like Kizaru or Aokiji? An old veteran like Vice-Admiral Tsuru? Or one of the rising mid-generation officers?
He knew the Navy's game. To them, the Warlords weren't allies; they were a stall tactic.
"Look at the lineup," Leo mused as he prepared for the day.
"Crocodile sits at the start of the Grand Line, turning rookies into crocodile fodder. He's the first sieve. Then there's Moria, clipping shadows to build his zombie army—the second sieve. Below the Sabaody Archipelago, you have Jinbe; he's the gatekeeper who crushes anyone foolish enough to target the merfolk. And at the end of the line, you have Doflamingo—a fallen Noble who knows exactly how to break a pirate's spirit."
It was a brilliant, cynical meat-grinder. Most pirates were arrogant idiots like Don Krieg—men who ruled the East Blue with numbers but lacked the "High-End Power" of a Devil Fruit or Haki. They'd charge into the Grand Line, hit a Warlord like Mihawk, and get sent back to the start in pieces.
The only reason the Navy wanted the Kuja was because they were the only ones who could move freely through the Calm Belt. They were a threat to Impel Down that needed to be neutralized with a title.
Leo's ability to map out the Navy's grand strategy was what truly fascinated Gloriosa. She was eighty-something, pushing ninety, and she knew she couldn't guide Hancock forever. The Empress was a firebrand; she needed a leash. Or perhaps, a navigator.
"Before the Navy gets here," Leo said, addressing the room later that morning, "I need an honest assessment of my body. It feels... off."
He wasn't shy about asking for help. Information was his currency, and he had paid enough to buy the best doctors in the kingdom.
The Kuja's chief physician, Belladonna, was a sturdy woman with a no-nonsense attitude. She had been the one to treat him when he first washed ashore. After a grueling, top-to-bottom examination under the watchful (and slightly jealous) eyes of the Empress, she delivered her report.
"Master Leo is simply weak," Belladonna stated bluntly. "He is physically more fragile than even our youngest initiates. Aside from malnutrition and exhaustion, there is nothing 'wrong' with him. He just lacks strength."
Leo rubbed his smooth chin, instinctively looking for a beard that wasn't there yet.
"I see," he murmured. "Then perhaps, once I've recovered, it's time I started training. I want to learn Haki."
He looked directly at Hancock. She was the master of all three types of Haki, a true prodigy of the sea.
But as their eyes met, the Empress's face turned a shade of crimson that matched her dress. She looked away, her regal poise crumbling into a bashful mess. She clearly wasn't in any state to be a "teacher" right now.
Leo sighed and turned to the old fox, Gloriosa. He didn't like dealing with her—she was too sharp, too cynical. But at the moment, she was the only one who could help him turn his mind into a weapon that actually had a holster.