The collection that the library sported spanned from topics as mundane as 'Thirty exotic Lawn shapes' to 'Basic Grand line Climate- A Discovery'. The books were stacked to the tops of the shelves and the topmost pile even leaned against the wall to make room for the smaller and less known t.i.tles.

Stacks of books sat to the side of each shelf, with an old wooden ladder leaning against the side of the old oak case. A dusty and old paper smell infused the room with a earthy tinge to it.

For the past hour, Angella had been walking through the book-filled alleyways of the colossal room, picking up anything that interested her in anyway, before perusing its contents. She had felt so fulfilled with the entire trip that she had even begun to compare it to the kind of freedom and carefree spirit she had back in the island of Ohara.

With a melancholic sigh, she turned back towards the entrance of the building wistfully running her thin pale fingers against the spines of the many books that spanned the shelves as she walked.

The librarian sat smiling at the counter, that stood at the entry way to the building. A dull thrum of repeated thuds echoed throughout the otherwise silent establishment as she stamped the books that were on her table.

Her old and wrinkly hand held the books caringly as she stacked them to the side, neatly and orderly it was placed off to the side of the table.

She smiled at the people entering and exiting the big building, most of whom were children whose head barely reached past the tip of the wooden counter. Her eyes flashed with an old women's care as she looked at the kids sitting at the tables arranged in between the door and the many alleyways.

Angella looked at her with a melancholic and wistful glint in her eyes, the old women reminded her of her own grandmother that had taken care of her on her home island. She had a favorite rocking chair that she sat on at all times and knit most of the clothes that a young Angella wore, her hands were filled with the p.r.i.c.ks of the knitting needle that she used in her embroidery.

With a defeated sigh, Angella wrenched herself from her reminiscing, forcing herself to walk out of the most familiar structure that she had visited in her time off her home island, bowing her head towards the old librarian as she walked out into the pleasant night.

A dull glance at the moon seemed to reflect her nostalgia as she found herself unconsciously comparing the sight of the moon from here to the view from Ohara.

If she was being honest with herself, she would find that she was more than just a little excited at the prospect of returning home, hugging her grandmother and inhaling the deep and rich scent of the Oharan library.

In fact, it could be considered to be her only motivation to stay on the s.h.i.+p, the pirate crew, as they called themselves. She could only forcefully push down the bile that rose in her throat whenever anyone on the 'crew' mentioned the word 'pirate' and could not help but revile the implications of her a.s.sociations with them.

After all it had been pirates that sold her to the h.e.l.l that was slavery, a pirate by the name of 'Sonya the lioness' to be precise.

She remembered that time, long ago when she had snuck into a rundown jetty that had moored at the beach of the island. She remembered the faint snickers that she had m.u.f.fled as she hid beneath the tarp of the old boat. She remembered how stormy the day was, and remembered the sudden bellowing of the wind as the cord that held the boat ash.o.r.e snapped. She remembered the zooming feeling that she felt as the boat zoomed unto the horizon.

After that she remembered her fear, her crying and finally her hope, when she came upon the women that she would later despise with her whole being. She remembered the kindly words that were spoken to her as she was brought onto the deck of the s.h.i.+p, the sweet voice that the cunning sea wench had employed when she pulled her snug into a torn blanket, before the dull thud on her neck that would act as the opening act of her long years into slavery.

Sonya's face still appeared in her mind as she thought of the one that had caused her so much grief, glowering down at her from on high. Above her hate for the mere concept of 'piracy' however, was her hate for the sea. Her hate for the fickle and cruel force that had dragged her away from home back then, lowering her into a mere starving child and delivering her onto those she would never forget.

Now there came another crew, ruled over by a male tyrant instead of a female tyrant this time. One who cruelly killed, who supported the conception of slavery and who was as vile as to brainwash young and otherwise innocent children into becoming a ruthless killer at a young age.

The only reason she bore with the foolhardy bunch was because of how close they were to home, then when they reached, she would slit their throats and sell their heads to the highest bidder.

Even the boy would go through the same thing, regardless of his reasons he had chosen to become one of the members of this toxic group so he could not be any better. It would be better to finish him off, the most she could do was make it swift and painless she vowed as she hardened her resolve. Pirates could not be trusted, and if she had to sacrifice her self-respect to extinguish even a part of this worldwide malediction then she would do so in a heartbeat. She would not allow for anyone else to go through what she went through, she promised herself as she resolutely marched through the sultry town weather.

A deep sigh seemed to echo throughout the night sky as the clouds began to cover the white moon. A series of lights gleamed from the houses that paved the road pitching yellow shadows onto the grey cobblestone.

In the end of the road, from the periphery of her vision she could make out the hanging symbol of a smithy. The hammer and anvil symbol looked especially glaring, this with an absence of light from the inside of the building caused Angella to stop in contemplation.

She silently made her way to the side of the building before stealthily pus.h.i.+ng in the wooden window frame, the rotting window sill caved in easily as the window creaked inwards. A collection of different swords and other a.s.sortments hung on the wall.

She needed a weapon, and she knew with a definite where she could get one..

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