Thirteen days.
That was the ti Pablo spent on his aerial journey from Sorbit to Vertus.
Thirteen days of isolation in the sky. No one to talk to. Nothing happening. Only the black cloud beneath him, the white clouds around him, and the blue sky above him.
At first, the feeling was new. Freedom, fresh air, the view from above. He felt as if he were the ruler of the world.
But by the third day, boredom began to seep into him.
There was nothing to do but sit, stare at the horizon, and think. He thought about the past, about Verona, about Naraka, about Sorbit. He thought about Marco, Jinny, Kuma, and Darin...
The boredom was almost deadly.
For this, he turned to books.
He had taken several books from the palace library before leaving. Books on world history, on the geography of the South Blue, on Devil Fruits, and on the voyages of famous sailors. Along with novels and stories he read for entertainnt only when his mind tired of serious information.
He read for an hour. Then two hours. Then four hours.
Reading beca his daily habit. He would wake at sunrise, eat a little dried at, drink a sip of water, then open a book. He would read until noon. Then he would stop briefly to contemplate the view. Then he would return to reading until evening.
The boredom did not disappear completely, but the books made it bearable.
In the evening, he would begin searching for a place to sleep.
He could not sleep on the cloud. He could not control the wind to lift the cloud while he was asleep.
So, he would lower his cloud gradually until he was close to the water's surface. He would look for a large rock jutting out of the sea, or a very small uninhabited island, or a narrow sandy beach at the foot of a rocky cliff.
On the fifth night, he found a flat rock the size of a small room. He landed on it. Spread his jacket on the cold stone. Lay down. Looked at the stars. It was peaceful.
But in the middle of the night, he woke to cold raindrops falling on his face.
Rain.
The sky was raining directly above him. Clouds had gathered without him noticing.
He mumbled sleepy words. Raised his hand lazily. Moved his fingers slightly. The rain stopped. The clouds dispersed and the sky cleared.
He turned his body to the other side. Returned to sleep.
In the morning, he woke with the sunrise. He did not rember the incident until he saw a wet spot on his jacket. He smiled. Then ate his breakfast. Then set off again.
And so the days passed. He read. He flew. He searched for a rock to sleep on. He stopped the rain if it fell. Then he started over.
On the thirteenth day, he saw land on the horizon.
Vertus Island.
---
Vertus was beautiful from the air. White and green, its golden beaches shining under the sun. White buildings scattered on the hills, and bell towers rising above so old churches. The port was large, full of ships. And the markets were crowded even from this height.
Pablo raised his cloud high. He pierced through the white clouds until he was far from people's sight. Then he jumped from the cloud to the top of a rocky cliff outside the city. The clouds hid his cloud in the sky. It would remain there waiting for him.
He descended from the cliff carefully. He was wearing his simple black clothes. He tucked his pistol under his belt.
He carried his bag on his shoulder. It was much lighter than it was eleven days earlier. Food and water had almost run out. He needed to restock his supplies.
He walked towards the city. The weather was warm. People moved in all directions. Children's laughter filled the streets. The sll of fresh bread wafted from bakeries.
"First: food," Pablo said to himself.
---
He asked a passerby about a good restaurant. The man pointed towards a narrow street adjacent to the large market.
"'The Blue Wave' restaurant. The most famous restaurant in Vertus. You won't regret it."
Pablo thanked the man and walked in the indicated direction.
The restaurant was dium-sized, its facade old wood, and its windows open to the street. The restaurant was almost full, but a young waiter pointed him to a small table in the corner.
He sat down. Stretched his legs under the table. He was comfortable.
The waiter approached. He was a young man in his twenties, his face cheerful, and his smile quick.
"What would you like?"
"Your best."
"We have fresh fish soup, grilled fish with herbs, and garlic bread."
"All of it."
"And a drink?"
"Cold water. And a glass of red wine."
The waiter noted the order and walked away.
Pablo looked around. The restaurant was clean. The custors were diverse: sailors, rchants, families, and Navy soldiers in a far corner. They were eating, laughing, and talking. Life was normal here. Far from the power struggles he was used to.
After minutes, the waiter returned carrying a large tray.
He started with the soup. It was warm, rich, its taste complex and delicious. He ate slowly. Enjoyed every spoonful. After eleven days of dried at and dry bread, this soup was like heaven.
Then ca the grilled fish. It was tender, perfectly seasoned with herbs. The skin was crispy, and the flesh lted in his mouth.
And the garlic bread was crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, dripping with garlic butter.
Pablo did not speak while eating. He didn't need to. He just needed this food.
When he finished, he drank the glass of red wine slowly. It was excellent.
The waiter returned. "Do you want dessert?"
"No. Just the bill."
Pablo paid. Left a generous tip. Left the restaurant feeling full for the first ti in days.
---
He went out into the streets of Vertus. He didn't need to go anywhere specific. He just wanted to wander. To see. To enjoy.
The city was beautiful.
The white buildings with red roofs lined the cobblestone streets. Wooden windows adorned with flowers, and dark blue doors. The bell towers of old churches rose here and there.
And the people.
Won wore light dresses, moved lightly, and laughed with each other. Their hair flew with the breeze coming from the sea.
He just looked. Then he continued walking.
The markets were crowded. Street vendors displayed their goods. One sold colorful cotton candy. Another sold handmade leather bracelets. Another sold strange fruits Pablo had never seen before.
He stopped at a street vendor selling a cold red-colored drink. He bought a cup. Drank. It was sweet and refreshing.
He walked again. Wandered through the fish market, where the sll of the sea was strong. Through the vegetable market, where the bright colors of fruits and vegetables shone. Through the craftsn's market, where a man carved wood before his eyes.
He enjoyed everything.
He was not in a hurry. He was not looking for anything specific. He was just there. Living the mont.
In the middle of his wandering, he bought fresh bread from a small bakery, and ate it while walking. It was hot, crispy, and delicious.
He stopped at an old fountain in a small square. Sat on its edge. Watched the water flowing. Watched the children playing around him. Watched the blue sky.
He took out his small notebook from his pocket. Wrote a few words about Vertus: beautiful, clean, the people are kind. The Navy is present but not overbearing.
Then he put the notebook back in his pocket.
It was a good day.
---
In the evening, Pablo returned to the sa restaurant. This ti, he sat outside. The air was pleasant, and the sun was beginning to set.
He ordered a different dinner: mushroom soup, grilled at with vegetables, and cheese bread. And another glass of red wine.
He ate slowly. Enjoyed it. When he finished, darkness had fallen. The sky was full of stars.
He asked the waiter about a nearby, clean inn. The waiter pointed him to a side street.
Pablo walked to the inn. It was a small three-story building, its facade white, and warm yellow light seeping from the windows. He entered. Rented a room on the second floor.
He climbed the wooden stairs that creaked under his feet. Opened the room door.
It was small. One bed, a wooden nightstand, a narrow wardrobe, and a window overlooking the night market. Simple but clean.
He closed the door. Placed his bag on the floor. Sat on the bed.
He took out the map from his bag. Spread it on the bed before him. Began to contemplate.
He needed to decide his next destination.
After Vertus, where to?
He looked at the map. The islands of the South Blue were scattered before him. So were large and well-known. So were small.
His eyes stopped at an island in the eastern part of the South Blue. It was relatively far, but it was on his path towards the Calm Belt.
Its na: Perfu Island.
It was not a large island. Nor was it famous for trade or conflicts. It was famous for one thing only: perfu making. It was known for its fragrant scent that wafted from it even before ships reached its port.
It was a quiet island. Beautiful. Its people lived in peace.
Why did Pablo choose it?
Because it was the island that interested him most among the subsequent islands on his route.
He placed his finger on Perfu Island on the map. Then drew an imaginary line from Vertus to it.
The distance was far. But he was not in a hurry.
"Perfu Island," he said in a low voice. "I will see you in a few days."
He folded the map. Placed it in his bag.
He lay down on the bed. It was soft. Warm. Much better than the cold rocks in the open sea.
He looked at the wooden ceiling. He was thinking about tomorrow. He would wander a little in Vertus in the morning, buy new supplies, then set off towards Perfu Island.
But now... he needed to sleep.
He closed his eyes.
He fell asleep quickly.
And he did not dream of anything.
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