Seeing more in sensei’s eyes that what he seemed to reveal at that time, I bowed low and simply replied: “Understood, sensei.”
Turning around, I scout the island, trying to establish a mental plan of the exciting voyage ahead of me. Gesticulating like a madman, even mimicking awkward facial expressions, I mutter to myself:
“Hmmm, no. Yes… maybe? This could, but not with wings… all things considered. Apples could make it… birds… Ha, a flying machine would help, or a Devil Fruit. Haha! No…. not that…. actually, hmmm… with this… yes, this might just work!”
Finished with my monologue, which frankly would have made anyone think I was completely insane, I begin to scan the island, thinking about all the materials I will need to complete the creation of my crazy invention. Searching my backpack for supplies, I pull out a paper and a pencil, listing out the elements I need:
Skytube materials list:
Two thousand kilograms of scrap metal Four large logs of hardwood Large quantity of coal Hemp in medium quantity One hundred kilograms of explosive powder Fifty kilograms of cotton or cloth
“Hmmm, this looks right, with this going there, everything should fall into order.”
Frantically, I scribble a plan that looks absolutely terrible when I compare it to those of my fellow navy engineer comrade, Martin “Ruff” Johnson, the artist in the group that I used to lead, back when I was a part of G4. Our team, the AVD-5, or Amphibious Vehicle Division - 5, used to be responsible for minor breakthroughs in aquatic and land mechanics for the marines. Since the reorganization of G3 and G4 by the Fleet Admiral, however, the team was broken up. That week, I decided to request a change of post and dive right into adventure, starting at Gull Island.
“Gah, and here I am being side tracked again.”
Returning to the matter at hand, I look at the isle from my feet to the horizon, looking at each plot of land in detail in an attempt to categorize the region, making the gathering of my needed materials much easier:
“Here, I’ll name it Gloomy Woods, with its charred Silverwood Pines. The forest fires or… whatever it was actually help quite a bit with the collection of charcoal. Since the entire woods aren’t consumed, it should also be ideal for the logs I so desperately require. Now comes the problem of cutting such a hard wood… hmmmm… anyway, I’ll figure that later. This southern part of the mountain looks prone to mineral outgrowth, so I shall dub it Iron Gorge, where mining should be fairly easy. There’s swamp next to a small lake on the western-center part of the isle, which I’ll simply call The Swamp, where hemp is the most likely to grow. The largest pique of the island looked like it sheltered a small arid field, but plants like cotton and flax may still be able to grow. This plateau shall be known as The Highfields. Finally, the small abandoned harbor at the very north of the island should be a real treasure trove of scrap metal. The south-eastern beach, for what it’s worth, should be a flat enough area to accustom me during the creation of the machine. Now, let’s get to work!”
Rolling up my list and the plans that genuinely look like they were designed by a toddler, I place them to safety in my backpack and start walking towards the woods, where I will find the first materials on my sheet. Feeling the harsh wind on my face, I reflect upon my past experience, trying to pass the time and to recall precious memories.
“So much has changed since I’ve left the AVD… I saw Gurthorn again, but I also had an encounter with pirates, almost got killed a few times and visited as many islands in a few weeks than during the first twenty years of my life. There’s something tiring, but so exciting about adventure. It’s freeing to finally have no regrets, no plans for the future, only for the present. Gurthorn, when I see you again, I’ll be stronger and faster than you.”
Smiling, the face of the friend I made in my recent exploits flashes in front of me. “Rooster, I’m starting to sound like you!” I say without anyone to notice. “The silly things I’m saying, it’s a shame you’re not here to tease me! Haha!”
Surprisingly, I arrive at the edge of Gloomy Woods, still stunned by the brisk pace I walked at when I left my viewing station and the speed at which time passed while revisiting sweet memories. I concentrate on the task, trying to figure out a way to actually collect the precious wood, so abundant around me. Spotting a rock of a medium size, I start to sharpen its edge on a boulder. With the side thin enough to cut flesh, I start to work on a nearby Silver Pine. After twenty excruciatingly long minutes, I look at my victim, seeing barely a shadow of a nudge within its bark.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I shout angrily. “Just how hard is this stuff???”
Puffing from all the effort, I hear a high-pitched and jovial laugh coming from behind. Furious at the prospect of someone mocking me, I turn around, ready to rumble. Voice: “Teeheeheehee. Using a Seasoil Rock to cut down a fully grown silverwood? You’re going to have a nice time! Teeeheeeheehee!”
Barnabe: “Well, no need to hide, coward! Who are you and, if you’re so smart, what should I be using?”
Elia: “My name is Elia, and I’m a Dryadune! We’re a tribe that lives in woods from around the world, we know all there is about every single kind of wood in the universe: it’s our specialty!” the young woman says with a large smile.
Thinking that she is pulling a kind of practical joke, I quickly reply:
Barnabe: “Yeah, well I’m Barnabe the Third, Emperor of Berryland and King of the All Blue.”
Opening its large eyes incredibly wide, the girls’ jaw nearly tears a hole through the ground, as she screams:
Elia: “REALLY!? I’m so sorry, your majesty. I never expected someone like you in these woods! Please allow me to help you!”
Pulling a small circular piece of wood on a chain from her shirt, she places her lips on its extremity, blowing in the hollow item like one would with a whistle, producing a surprisingly low and resonating sound.:
VHOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUU
Instantly, the woods seem alive, branches agitating, leaves rustling as a plethora of eyes appear from the darkness of the trees, looking at Elia and I.
Elia: “Listen up, Dryadunes, this is Barnabe the Third, and he needs our help! He requires some silverwood pine logs!”
Voice: “Why should we help him! He’s not from around here!” The voice seems to emanate from a boy, a teenager at most, with hints of hostility, but more curiosity than animosity.
To my complete shock, Elia replies:
Elia: “A great-necked Boa tried to swallow me, but Barnabe saved me. He’s a kind man, and he needs us!”
Kevyan: “Again??? That’s the third wild animal who attacks you this week. You really need to pay more attention, Elia. Stranger, my name is Kevyan, and these people are my friends. If you’ve saved one of us, we are all in your debt. How much wood do you need? These old trees are all dead anyways, It’ll make space for something new to regrow.” Still quite in disbelief, I regain control of myself slowly and answer:
Barnabe: “Th-thanks. The logs from four trees should be plenty for what I need. How will you cut them, might I ask?”
Turning to Elia as I pronounce the final words, I ask her mid-voice, to make sure only she hears:
Barnabe: “Why the hell did you lie to them?”
With an enigmatic smile, she stays mute. I notice then that Kevyan has started to reply to me:
Kevyan: “Haha! That’s a secret.” Suddenly, an old lady pulls his left ear, prompting him to make a hilarious expression. “Ow! Ok, Gran, I’ll tell him, geez!” satisfied, the lady smiles, walking towards the rest of the group already working around some silverwoods. “It’s a set of machetes coated with a special set of gems specific to the island. We call them Clearblue Gems, because they are only found in a pool at the very center of the cave on the isle, making them hard to collect.” Holding my hand, a sign that I’m about to ask a question, I open my mouth, but Kevyan quickly interupts me: “We use machetes because they’re lighter, and it’s not the strength of the hit that cuts the trees: the Clearblues have a chemical reaction with the wood, quickly working to its core and allowing us the use the logs for everyday purpose.”
Impressed, I remark, observing the group almost done gathering the wood I need:
Barnabe: “Ingenious, truly. I’ll have to document that.”
Half-an-hour later, a small pile of wood acts as witness to the hard work put in my the Dryadunes. Grateful, I wave them goodbye, thanking them. When only Elia remains, I talk to her:
Barbabe: “So, why did you lie?”
Elia: “Silly, I knew you weren’t really a monarch. Besides, I didn’t lie… much. You’re going to save me. I saw it in a dream. Teehee!”
Skipping, Elia makes her way back in the woods, giggling and rustling the leaves on her path.
“Well, I’ve got the wood I need, now, let’s roll it towards the beach and try to find a way to harvest iron. Ah, no, I need some coal before I can go.”
With a machete that was left to my by the tribe, I scrab some burnt wood off the dead trees, gathering all the coal I will need for my machiavelic machinery. Satisfied, I leave with my two prizes.
Debating which ways would be most efficient to extract an ore with a fairly high melting point, considering my current means, I make my way towards the beach, drop the package of iron that I rolled towards it, stack it between two solid boulders and walk towards Iron Gorge. Arriving at the entrance of an enormous cave a bit later, I pull out some of the sticks I picked up earlier, holding them together. I drench them in some decomposing plants next to the marsh not too far from the cave, making myself a torch which will, in a pinch, be useful. Slowly, I make my way inside.