New World, on an uninhabited island not far from the G-5 Naval Base.
This island had been designated as the new shipbuilding base for G-5. Development was already underway. Ortoren hadn't even returned to the base—he came straight here for an inspection.
At the rough, newly built dock, Ortoren sat on a stone block with a report in hand, studying the data. Momonga and Master Tom stood nearby. The report, compiled by Tom, outlined the shipbuilding plans for the base.
"These production facilities—get in touch with Doflamingo. Tell him to gather them as quickly as possible and deliver them here… As for the funds, deduct it from his two hundred billion," Ortoren said after skimming the plan, lifting his head to address Momonga.
Momonga nodded and quickly noted it down in his book. Nearby, Vergo twitched at the words and silently mourned his young master for two seconds.
Then Ortoren turned to Master Tom.
"Do we really need this many workers?"
Master Tom nodded. "It's mainly because the targets you set are very high. To produce twenty warships a year, we'll need at least twenty thousand workers. Warships are massive, and on top of that, you want to build other standard ships too—armed transports and the like, for external sales. That pushes the labor demand even higher. And they'll need to be healthy, young, and strong."
Ortoren fell silent, thinking. The New World was chaotic, but its population was plentiful. What Saint Saturn of the Five Elders once said wasn't wrong—humans were like insects. Wipe out a group, and before long, they'd multiply again.
Recruiting the numbers wasn't the issue. But paying wages for twenty thousand workers—that was the real problem. Where was G-5 supposed to find that kind of money?
"So how much would the wages come to in a year?" Ortoren finally asked.
Master Tom thought for a moment, then replied, "In Water 7, workers like this typically earn between 60,000 and 150,000 Belly per month depending on skill. Let's take an average of 100,000. For twenty thousand workers, that's 2 billion Belly per month. Over a year… 240 billion Belly."
"What?!" Ortoren's eyes widened. "That's more than a Shichibukai in a single year?!"
Tom froze.
What kind of unit of measure is that supposed to be?
"I don't have that kind of money to pay them!" Ortoren slapped his thigh in frustration.
For a moment, he even felt a flicker of sympathy for those capitalists people wanted to string up on lampposts.
I'm building warships to strengthen the G-5 Navy. Strengthening G-5 is so we can better protect peace in the New World, so people can live stable lives. And for this righteous, lofty goal, I have to burn through more than 200 billion a year?! What kind of justice is this? What kind of law?!
Momonga quietly reminded him, "That's only wages. Materials and other expenses aren't even included yet…"
Hearing this, Ortoren's head throbbed. Wait a second—if he remembered right, the Headquarters bought warships from Water 7 for just about 200 million Belly apiece twenty years later. Right now, they went for around 80 to 90 million each.
Twenty warships, if bought outright, would cost no more than 2 billion Belly. So why would building them himself run over 200 billion? How was Water 7 making money off this? It didn't make sense!
When he asked Tom about it, Ortoren finally understood. Water 7 had a complete shipbuilding industry chain. Their worker efficiency and overall system far outstripped what could be achieved with randomly recruited labor. They had a mature, systematic operation in place.
That's why their costs were so much lower. According to Tom, if this shipbuilding island could operate steadily for five or six years and train a large group of skilled workers, twenty warships a year would be the bare minimum. A single island in Water 7 could supply all the massive standard warships the Marine Headquarters needed—a testament to its overwhelming productivity.
So losses in the beginning were unavoidable. But once sales channels stabilized, the money could be earned back. And as Tom explained, shipbuilding had always been an industry with a very long return cycle—it was never a business for quick profits.
"Equipment and materials like lumber actually account for a small portion of the expenses. The real bulk of the costs goes toward the workers' wages, right?" Ortoren finally reached this conclusion and asked.
Master Tom nodded in agreement. "That's exactly the situation."
"Then it seems these wages can't be paid out," Ortoren declared without hesitation.
Master Tom stared at Ortoren in disbelief. Was this really something a naval commander should be saying? Were they planning to create a sweatshop? How utterly inhumane!
"Three-legged toads are hard to find, but two-legged humans are everywhere, aren't they? If we can't use workers, we'll use slaves!" Ortoren said firmly.
Momonga froze for a moment, then hesitated. "But... that's far too cruel. We're the Marines..."
Ortoren waved his hand dismissively. "Of course I don't mean grabbing random people to use as slaves. What I mean is—do you know that in the two years since the Great Pirate Era began, the number of pirates has exploded so much that even Impel Down can hardly contain them anymore? As sister organizations, we should help each other. The criminals they can't keep locked up—send them here for labor reform. Doesn't that sound reasonable?"
"Huh?" Momonga was dumbfounded by Ortoren's idea. Could something like this even be done?
"Instead of letting those bastards sit in Impel Down, wasting public funds and living like lords, it's better to put them to work for the cause of justice. That way they can atone for their crimes sooner. Write this down. I'll contact Admiral Sengoku and have him issue an order to Impel Down. You'll put together a fleet to escort the prisoners here to work!" Ortoren, always decisive, made the decision on the spot.
Impel Down, in terms of system, was under the jurisdiction of Marine Headquarters. The Warden's appointment required the Fleet Admiral's signature. In the original story, Magellan had even tried to resign in disgrace after the Great Escape incident, submitting his report directly to Sengoku, the Fleet Admiral at the time. That showed just how clear the chain of command was.
So as long as Headquarters issued an administrative order, Impel Down would have no choice but to cooperate with Ortoren's arrangements.
Joking aside, if Kaidou could organize pirates in Wano to mine without paying wages, why should I, Ortoren, pay wages?
What pirates can do, Marines can do as well.
Even the resources consumed are practically the same. Kaidou used pirates who refused to submit to him, along with Wano's underworld organizations. I'll be using pirates too—all in the name of justice.
Momonga still felt something was off about this, but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Those bastard pirates were useless sitting in Impel Down. If brought here as slave labor, they could actually make a significant contribution to justice!
And if it helped the cause of justice, then it fully aligned with Marine standards—no problem at all!
"Understood. I'll arrange the fleet immediately." Momonga quickly wrote it down in his notebook.
Watching the two Marine leaders settle the matter so decisively, Master Tom couldn't help but sigh inwardly. This Navy… its makeup was truly complicated.
"Hmm, we need to broaden our perspective. Look, pirate slaves don't just bring value through shipbuilding. With such a massive pool of cheap labor, we can also expand into other industries. Tesoro, later you'll draft a plan based on this idea. Identify what other industries these bastard pirates can contribute to and open up more revenue streams. With more money, the New World can become even more prosperous! This benefits everyone in the New World, so put some real effort into it." Ortoren spoke as if it were only natural.
Tesoro also felt there was something off in Ortoren's logic, but the more he thought about it, the more reasonable it sounded. If G-5 grew rich, the New World would prosper—no doubt about it.
What was this called? This was called common prosperity—the wealthy leading the less fortunate toward wealth!