After a long while, Gern finally managed to finish his work and tossed aside the pen he had been using to approve documents.
He had exhausted his last shred of energy for official business.
He slumped backward, and the Fleet Admiral's chair let out an overburdened creak, its back bending under his weight.
Then he reached out, grabbed the Fleet Admiral's cap that symbolized the Marines' highest authority from the desk, and dropped it over his face without even looking.
"Haah..."
A long, weary sigh drifted out, muffled beneath the cap.
He gave up.
The pose wasn't particularly elegant, but all Gern wanted at that moment was to empty his mind, even if only for a minute.
The chain reaction triggered by the Marines' declaration of independence had far exceeded his initial expectations.
This wasn't merely a military and political split. It was a massive tsunami sweeping through the entire organizational structure, logistics network, diplomatic relations, economic lifelines, and even ideology.
Every document represented a problem that had to be solved, a conflict that had to be reconciled, dissent that had to be suppressed, or resources that had to be secured in the process of establishing the new order.
Reorganizing and rotating personnel at the G-series bases in the New World, negotiating tax agreements and security treaties clause by clause with the affiliated nations of the Four Blues and the first half of the Grand Line.
Rebuilding the Marines' financial system after independence and allocating budgets, purging and confronting the remnants of the former World Government's institutions.
Conducting internal briefings on the Marines' concept of "justice" and unifying their thinking, weighing and approving special requests from veteran heavyweights like Garp.
Monitoring internal sources of instability such as the "Sharp Blade Unit" and drafting contingency plans to deal with them...
Then