The Deputy Chief of Staff let out a long, weary sigh.
The commander was unreliable.
The subordinates were unreliable.
Even the reserve officers of the staff department were unreliable.
It was understandable. The best strategists were all assigned to the Grand Line, where manpower was stretched thin.
Looking at his amateur subordinates… then at himself… and finally at his professional but tactless superior—
The deputy understood.
If this meeting was going to survive the mounting embarrassment, he would have to step in himself.
With the bravery of a man prepared to humiliate himself for the greater good, he raised the question that had bothered him from the start.
He pointed at the bartender's hand-drawn sketch of Louis and compared it to the bounty poster.
"Are these really the same person? They don't look that alike."
The Intelligence Chief froze.
For a moment, he genuinely didn't know how to respond.
By what standard do you mean 'not alike'? Because he's not wearing a hat? Or because he's not wearing glasses?
The resemblance between the sketch and the bounty poster exceeded ninety percent.
The only difference?
On the bounty poster, Louis wore a white top hat pulled low, casting a shadow over his face. His right eye was fitted with a monocle.
Louis understood a simple truth about this world:
Many people identified others primarily by distinctive accessories.
So before every battle, he deliberately wore the hat and monocle to blur recognition. He had initially used regular spectacles, but they slipped too easily. The monocle, secured with facial pressure, proved more practical.
Vice Admiral Gust noticed the Intelligence Chief's silence and tapped the desk.
"It's a valid question. If they're not the same person, the entire deduction collapses. If the Deputy hadn't pointed it out, I might not have noticed either. On what basis did the Intelligence Division determine they are the same individual?"
It wasn't that Gust hadn't noticed. He had simply assumed that everyone else could recognize the match—and hadn't wanted to expose himself by questioning something so trivial.
Now that someone else had spoken up, he felt safer.
The Intelligence Chief hesitated.
One person failing to see it might be an oversight. Two?
He turned uncertainly to his subordinates.
"You also think they're different people?"
The intelligence officers exchanged confused glances.
Of course they were the same person.
The expressions on their faces made it obvious.
Gust and the Deputy both realized they had likely asked a foolish question.
The Chief of Staff glanced at the images and said bluntly:
"You can't even tell they're the same person? Are you all idiots?"
The room died.
The air grew thick.
Please stop telling the truth, the Deputy begged inwardly.
He hurriedly clamped a hand over the Chief of Staff's mouth and changed the subject.
"So, Medica intends to enhance his authority by attacking G-12. He uses the Marine Hunter to boost the crew's combat power and relies on Louis Bardell to administer the emerging pirate alliance. That's suicide. Even if successful, Marine Headquarters won't ignore it."
The Intelligence Chief chose not to escalate the earlier exchange.
After all, his own commanding officer was hardly blameless either.
He merely sighed.
"Power is intoxicating. Those who crave it rarely turn back—even when they see the cliff ahead."
Vice Admiral Gust remained outwardly calm, demonstrating why he held command.
To escape the suffocating atmosphere, he skipped over lingering doubts and cut straight to the decision.
"So. Your recommendation? Preemptive strike—or fortify?"
Every eye turned to the Chief of Staff.
Even the Deputy reluctantly removed his hand.
The Chief of Staff spoke without hesitation.
"We must strike first. Defending G-12 is a losing proposition. This fortress is easier to assault than to hold. Whoever selected this site—and whoever approved its construction—must have lacked basic reasoning."
Gust coughed loudly.
"Cough. The location was determined by Fleet Admiral Kong and Admiral Sengoku, in consultation with World Government leadership. The fortress exists because this location is strategically vital. When the Chief of Staff says 'lacked reasoning,' he clearly means… something else."
The Intelligence Chief nodded dryly.
"I heard nothing."
The Chief of Staff continued anyway.
"Strategically vital? It's a desolate crossroads. Pirates rarely pass this route. The only significant traffic is when the Celestial Dragons' tribute convoys converge here during Heavenly Tribute season."
Silence.
Gust's face darkened.
"Intelligence Chief. Turn off the Den Den Mushi recording this meeting."
Fortunately, the Chief of Staff's role required only intellect—not tact.
The meeting could not continue in this direction. At this rate, Gust feared he would be arrested for treason before he even considered shouting "Long live the Revolutionary Army."
No.
Dying for the Marines was one thing.
Dying over reckless honesty was another.
He set the tone decisively.
"It is Heavenly Tribute season. Stability overrides all else. Whether the Tequila Pirates intend to strike or not, we eliminate them preemptively. No hesitation."
Under that directive, the Chief of Staff swiftly drafted three comprehensive operational plans. Adjustments would be made based on pirate movements.
After the strategy was finalized, Gust stood.
Before leaving the room, he paused beside the Den Den Mushi used to record the meeting.
He picked it up, feigning inspection.
"This one seems… unwell. I'll send it to the medical ward immediately."
The Intelligence Chief let out a faint snort and closed his eyes, pretending not to notice.
This was the core tension between Intelligence and Strategy.
Intelligence officers collected information.
They were also the visible eyes of Marine Headquarters within every branch.
Misconduct. Disloyal remarks. Anything harmful to the World Government.
All of it was supposed to be reported upward.
Yet G-12's Chief of Staff, while lacking diplomacy, possessed extraordinary strategic insight. His decisions reduced Marine casualties significantly.
To preserve lives—and under Gust's pressure—the Intelligence Chief occasionally chose to look away.
It conflicted with his duty.
But the lives of the Marines beside him mattered more than distant directives from Headquarters.
Still—
That did not prevent him from deeply resenting the Chief of Staff… and, by extension, the entire staff division.