[At first there are pages and pages of maps.]

[Maps of every island the Spades have been to. Maps of areas only Marco's been to. Colored vividly from an aerial perspective sometimes, other times just plain black and white.]

[Then the pages transform and get marked down with various symbols all over. It would almost look like a football (soccer too) playbook, except there's too many. Sometimes they're littered with tombstones. And That prompts another map and doodle that would only make sense to those from the Grand Line: Whiskey Peaks, otherwise known as Cactus peaks, for all the tombstones sticking out cacti thorns. That doesn't last either. The next page is of Foodvalten, the cliffs, the means to defend it, little arrow turrets marked in red, red arrows themselves to demonstrate best means to attack from, and the flag clearly etched over it, but no sooner is it all finished than a giant red X crosses off the whole page.]

[An island that you would swear he just traced his hand for, much like the hand turkey doodle, but for all that he makes sure to include the river and mountain, there are no red lines or Xes this time. Instead one circle around a very important place that some of those who are in the know might recognize. Zeff too... but he was gone now. And then instead of a red X, just a blue question mark.]

[It changes again. Squares and chess pieces. Formulas and box puzzles. Logic puzzles. Square puzzles. But those are quicker dispensed than the others. Back then to maps and strategies of this world. Applying the puzzles to them now, for those of quick minds who can put the pieces together.]

[And then the endless maps and strategies stop too.]

[Only to add random excerpts from Sun Tzu's Art of War (or at least translations/variations, but certainly recognizable all the same) to a bunch of the strategies and maps.]

All war is based on deception.

There is no instance of a country having benefited from prolonged warfare.

It is only one who is thoroughly acquainted with the evils of war that can thoroughly understand the profitable way of carrying it on.

He wins his battles by making no mistakes. Making no mistakes is what establishes the certainty of victory, for it means conquering an enemy that is already defeated.

If we wish to fight, the enemy can be forced to an engagement even though he be sheltered behind a high rampart and a deep ditch. All we need do is attack some other place that he will be obliged to relieve.

If we do not wish to fight, we can prevent the enemy from engaging us even though the lines of our encampment be merely traced out on the ground. All we need do is to throw something odd and unaccountable in his way.

Regard your soldiers as your children, and they will follow you into the deepest valleys; look upon them as your own beloved sons, and they will stand by you even unto death.

[Well that's just lovely, right?]

[There's a few more miscellaneous doodles. A straw hat here, a white lily there, a dog with a mustache too. But after a bit it also ends, and blue ink writes something a bit more comprehensible:]

Thatch is right, I need to play more games. Anyone up for some?

[After glancing around town and staying on the beach for a stretch, it's a while before Ventus finally turns his attention to the strange book he woke up with. He flips through it once more, again finding it blank save for that enigmatic entry, but this time he and his curiosity are a little more lucid. He turns it this way and that, tries closing and opening it at random pages, but all in all it doesn't hit him as anything special. So he leaves it open beside him, unaware that it hears him when he speaks.]

It's been so long... At least, I think it has. [It feels like it. And for the most part, feelings are all he has to go on.] It's... kind of weird, not having anyone close by.

[A beat, and then a sigh and the sound of something heavy hitting the sand.]

I'm not sure where to start. Why am I here?

[He doesn't sound sad, necessarily -- just tired, puzzled and probably really familiar to some of you. After a moment, though, he makes a disgruntled noise.] Ahh, but what am I moping for? [More movement, like he's sitting up, and then his tone's a bit brighter.] I'll just go back to town and... figure something out. Like always.

[SOUNDS LIKE A PLAN. His only plan, but a plan.]

...Oh, are you KIDDIN' me?! Davy Jones, you motherfu--Oh. Wait, actually this is much better than bein' home. All things considered, I guess it's actually not that bad.

[Well, time to address everyone.]

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it, I'm back, I don't need the newcomer information from anyone. Accordin' to the latest news I've read, it's been a little while since I last saw this place. At least that's the case here. Ain't been but a few days, back home. The whole time dilation effect this place has is pretty crazy.

[He lets out a tired sigh as he leans back against a market wall, munching on an apple by the sound of it.]

From the attitude of the locals, I can guess our standin' with 'em hasn't changed much. They're still assholes, they still think we're assholes. Great. Nothin' like mutual understandin'.

Well, if the entries I've been readin' are right, I guess people are still lookin' for shards? Good, that means Jones hasn't got 'em.