Chapter 30: The Value of Self-Funded Soldiers!
"Rear Admiral!"
Roel saluted crisply. Despite being only nineteen, his hardened expression carried the composure of a man in his thirties.
Seated behind the desk, Rear Admiral Drees nodded in acknowledgment and gestured toward two boxes nearby—one large, one small.
"This time, I called you in to discuss something important. These were prepared for you by Ensign Sakazuki. There's also some ammunition he donated to the unit."
"Honestly? This is the first time I've heard of someone joining the Navy with their own military funds. Go ahead—open it. There's a letter from him inside."
With that, Drees made a casual gesture, puffing on his cigar. Only the faint tremble in his left hand under the desk betrayed his calm demeanor.
"Sakazuki, huh... Thank you for letting me know, Rear Admiral."
Roel nodded respectfully and approached the boxes. Resting atop the smaller one was a letter sealed with Sakazuki's signature mark: a blazing sunset cloud.
He opened the envelope carefully and read the handwritten note inside:
> "Roel,
I heard from Mr. Garp that you'll soon be deployed on your first missions. While you won't be heading directly into the New World, the first half of the Grand Line is still incredibly dangerous.
This gear was purchased using funds from Master Ross. There's one for each of you—I hope they come in handy. I also included next month's pocket money. Use it to keep your spirits up.
Don't be stingy. As Master Ross always says: 'The heart is the strongest weapon in this world.' Don't let scars and steel blades steal your joy—take pleasure in even fleeting happiness.
Lastly... just come back alive. I want to take you all home again someday.
—Sakazuki"
The letter was short, but Roel could tell it had been written by hand—personalized for each of the thirty-seven recruits, all with different lives and habits.
Roel, for instance, had barely touched his 400,000 Beli monthly stipend. Others used theirs to make friends, or spend on small indulgences.
It reminded him of when they traveled with Master Ross—he always gave them some change to explore each new island freely. They were grown now, and the situations were more dangerous, so the "pocket money" was simply bigger.
But twenty thousand Beli could barely buy a decent gun. For proper gear, they usually had to apply for military funds through Sakazuki. Roel never did, feeling he didn't need it—yet here was Sakazuki, thinking ahead for them anyway.
Carefully, Roel folded the letter and tucked it into the inner pocket of his uniform.
Then he opened the box.
Click.
Inside was a massive, custom double-barreled shotgun—two meters long, with five-centimeter-wide muzzles. The logo of the West Sea's top arms dealer gleamed on the side. Starting price: 300,000 Beli. Certified firepower. Guaranteed performance.
There was also a short blade, forged by a master craftsman from the Land of Flowers—another piece worth at least 200,000 Beli.
On each side were reinforced steel under-armor vests—again, custom-made from the same country, designed to shield his heart.
Oddly enough, the least impressive-looking item was a set of ten boxes of high-grade ammo... but in reality, this was the kind of gear regular foot soldiers couldn't save up for in a lifetime.
With this arsenal, Roel could rack up ten times the military merit on any mission—most pirate captains wouldn't survive two close-range blasts.
"Can't lie," Drees said from his desk, visibly moved, "Your family head from the Nasdaq household treats you well. I'm jealous just looking at that gear. That crate over there is just the ammo, right? Might be factory-made, but it matches Navy issue all the same. We only get gear like that based on mission difficulty."
Roel glanced at the larger box—easily several times the size of his own. He figured it was packed full of ammunition.
In the Four Seas, firearms were the standard. Sword fights were rare outside the New World. Gunpowder ruled the battlefield. Even in the Grand Line's first half, the right firepower could turn any engagement.
That ammo might be just a fifth of the total needed, but the strategic leeway it gave them was priceless.
"Master Ross really does care about us," Roel said quietly, closing his case and lifting it effortlessly in one hand as he sat beside his superior. "Especially the children. Most of us didn't have a good childhood. Even after boarding his ship, we faced battles constantly."
"I never knew how to repay him. When I heard Sakazuki was joining the Navy, a few of us without any other skills followed. All we know is how to fight. We couldn't even mop floors right. But now that Master Ross has settled in East Blue…"
"We thought: if we just got stronger—just a bit—we might be able to help him too. So he wouldn't have to worry about us joining the military."
His voice dipped, heavy with guilt and gratitude.
Ross had given them the chance to rewrite their childhoods. Had given them freedom.
But now, Roel was tormented by a single question—how do you repay a man like that?
Drees tapped out his cigar and exhaled a slow breath, eyes full of envy.
"How lucky. To have someone give you such a warm and safe childhood… it's rare, even across the whole ocean. Sometimes I wonder… if Ross had been born twenty years earlier—maybe I'd have met him back then. What a blessing that would've been."
Roel stood abruptly, eyes firm.
"Rear Admiral Drees! I'd like to volunteer to lead the vanguard for the upcoming Rebel Pirates Suppression Mission in the allied nations' waters!"
"Approved! Go pack your gear—you ship out tomorrow. I'll have the vice officer deliver the team list for you to choose from!"
"Thank you, sir!"
Roel saluted sharply and left the office, gear in hand, walking calmly toward the recruit dormitory.
Back in the office, Rear Admiral Drees lit another cigar. From his drawer, he pulled out a photo frame… and quietly stared at the people in it.
A family.
---