The underworld operated alongside the legitimate trade of the world while obeying an entirely different set of rules. Weapons changed hands through intermediaries, information was sold to the highest bidder, and men who had never met one another arranged deaths through layers of trusted contacts. In this world, a person's worth depended not only on what they possessed, but also on what they knew and how reliably they could keep it secret.
Drug Peclo clearly understood this.
His establishment was known as the Blood Tavern, although calling it a tavern was something of a joke. The name suggested a place where criminals gathered to drink, exchange rumors, and boast about their exploits. Such establishments existed throughout the underworld, and most were useful only as temporary meeting places. Peclo's organization, however, had grown into something considerably more valuable. The Tavern was a network of information brokers, intermediaries, informants, and assassination contractors whose operations extended far beyond the walls of any single building.
The establishment that carried its name was merely one of its many points of contact.
On this particular evening, Peclo sat in a private room behind the main hall, reviewing a collection of reports that had arrived throughout the day. He was a broad man with a composed expression, and his movements carried the practiced caution of someone who had spent years dealing with people who might kill him for the right price. A drink rested beside his hand, untouched for the moment, while several sheets of paper lay arranged across his desk.
The first report concerned a Marine patrol that had changed its usual route along a section of the coast. The information was not particularly valuable on its own, but the timing was unusual. A second report indicated that a shipment of weapons had been delayed after its intended recipient suddenly changed the meeting location. A third contained a request from an intermediary who wanted to verify whether a particular pirate crew had recently entered the region.
Each piece of information had a price, but their value did not end there. When combined with other reports, seemingly unrelated details could reveal patterns that no individual informant had noticed. A Marine patrol changing its route might be routine, while a delayed weapons shipment might be the result of bad weather or a disagreement between merchants. If both developments occurred near a region where a pirate crew had recently appeared, however, the circumstances became worth investigating.
Peclo made a short note beside the first report and placed it in a separate pile.
He did not believe every coincidence concealed a conspiracy, nor did he assume that every rumor deserved immediate attention. The underworld produced an endless supply of false information, exaggerated claims, and deliberate attempts to mislead competitors. A broker who treated every rumor as a fact would soon waste his resources chasing imaginary opportunities.
The real skill lay in determining which details deserved further investigation.
A knock sounded at the door, and Peclo raised his head.
"Come in."
A man entered carrying a narrow folder. He was one of the Tavern's senior intermediaries, someone who had worked with Peclo long enough to understand that the private room was not a place for unnecessary conversation. He placed the folder on the desk and waited until Peclo had opened it.
"We received confirmation from the western route," the intermediary explained. "The shipment arrived safely, but the buyer has requested that future deliveries be handled through a different contact. He claims that the previous arrangement has become unreliable."
"Does he have a reason for the change?"
"He says one of his men was approached by a stranger asking questions about the shipment."
Peclo examined the report without changing his expression. "And did the man answer those questions?"
"He denies it. His account is consistent with the information we received from the other side, but we cannot verify every detail."
"Then we have two possibilities. Either someone is investigating the shipment, or the buyer is using the incident to renegotiate the arrangement." Peclo closed the folder and leaned back in his chair. "Find out which one it is before we change anything. If someone is asking questions, I want to know who sent them. If the buyer is simply looking for better terms, remind him that our arrangements are not changed because he has suddenly become nervous."
The intermediary nodded and collected the folder.
"Anything else?" Peclo asked.
"There is a request from an established client who wants information about a Marine officer. The client is willing to pay a substantial amount, but he has refused to explain why the information is necessary."
"That is not unusual. What information does he want?"
"His current assignments, recent movements, and the names of the officers he meets privately."
Peclo's fingers stopped moving across the desk. The request was not inherently suspicious, but it was broad enough to deserve caution. A client might want such information to avoid a patrol, negotiate a smuggling arrangement, or prepare an assassination. The problem was that the same information could support several different objectives, and the consequences of selling it depended on what the client intended to do with it.
"Tell him we can provide information on the officer's public movements and professional associations," Peclo said. "Anything involving private meetings will require a clearer explanation. We do not need to refuse the contract, but we do need to know whether fulfilling it would expose our people to unnecessary risks."
The intermediary accepted the instruction and left.
Peclo returned to his reports, satisfied that the immediate matters had been handled. He did not consider the decisions particularly remarkable. This was the ordinary work required to keep the Blood Tavern functioning, and much of his day consisted of similar judgments. He evaluated requests, settled disagreements, approved investigations, and determined which contracts were worth accepting.
The organization had survived because its operations were built around such decisions rather than the whims of a single powerful individual. Peclo had spent years establishing procedures that allowed information to move between different parts of the network without giving every participant access to everything. An informant who gathered shipping intelligence did not necessarily know the identities of the people arranging assassinations. A contract broker might know the client's intermediary without knowing the individual who had originally requested the killing.
This separation protected the organization when one of its members was compromised. If an informant was captured, he could reveal only a limited portion of the network. If a client attempted to trace a contract back to its source, the intermediaries could provide only the information necessary for their own part of the arrangement. No single person, apart from Peclo and a small number of trusted associates, possessed a complete picture of how the entire operation functioned.
Even that description required some qualification. Peclo did not personally know every informant or every intermediary. The network was too large for such an arrangement to remain practical. Instead, he maintained records of important contacts, financial obligations, operational procedures, and the people responsible for overseeing each branch. His knowledge gave him the ability to make decisions without requiring him to supervise every transaction.
That knowledge was the Blood Tavern's greatest asset, and Peclo understood that it was also the source of his greatest vulnerability.
Anyone who wanted to take over the organization would need to acquire more than its buildings or its money. They would need to understand how its different branches interacted, which relationships could survive a change in leadership, and which contracts depended on personal trust rather than formal agreements. Without that understanding, a new master could inherit the Tavern's name while destroying the very network that made it valuable.
Peclo had taken precautions against such a possibility. He did not keep every important record in one place, and sensitive information was distributed according to its purpose. Some arrangements existed only in the memories of the people involved, while others required confirmation from more than one intermediary before they could be acted upon. His closest associates knew how to recognize irregularities, and unexpected changes to established procedures were supposed to be reported rather than accepted without question.
He had no illusions about being invulnerable. The underworld was full of men who had survived for years before making a single mistake that cost them everything. His precautions could reduce the danger, but they could not eliminate it.
That was why he continued to invest in information about the people around him, including the other brokers who operated within his sphere of influence.
One of those names had appeared with increasing frequency in recent reports.
Joker.
Donquixote Doflamingo had become a significant figure in the underworld through his ability to connect buyers, sellers, and powerful clients who wanted access to weapons and other opportunities. His dealings extended into circles that most ordinary brokers could not approach, and his reputation was supported by relationships with individuals whose influence could reshape entire regions.
Peclo had never regarded Joker as an ordinary competitor. Doflamingo was too ambitious, too well connected, and too willing to use violence when negotiations failed. At the same time, Joker's business interests were broad enough that direct competition between their organizations was limited. Peclo dealt primarily in information and assassination contracts, while Doflamingo's most visible operations centered on the exchange of weapons and other valuable goods.
Their businesses occasionally intersected, but neither man had previously shown a compelling reason to challenge the other's position.
A recent report suggested that Joker was exploring new commercial opportunities and seeking partners who could provide services beyond the usual weapons trade. The information was vague, and Peclo had no reason to assume that it represented a direct threat. Still, he made a note to have the matter examined. A broker with Doflamingo's resources could become a valuable partner, but any arrangement with him would require careful consideration.
Peclo had survived long enough to recognize that the most dangerous offers were not always the ones that sounded unreasonable. Sometimes, the greatest risk came from an opportunity that appeared perfectly sensible until the person accepting it realized what they had surrendered in exchange.
He placed the report in a separate folder and closed it.
Outside the private room, the Blood Tavern continued its usual business. Visitors arrived with requests, intermediaries carried messages between different branches, and information changed hands according to arrangements that had often been established months or years earlier. The main hall was busy, but the activity was carefully managed. Those who came seeking ordinary underworld gossip could leave believing they had visited little more than a gathering place for criminals. Those who understood the Tavern's true purpose knew that the important transactions occurred elsewhere, through channels that were not visible to the casual observer.
Peclo finished reviewing the remaining reports and finally reached for his drink. He took a small sip, then returned the glass to its place beside the papers.
There would always be new rumors to investigate, new clients to evaluate, and new risks to manage. The work never truly ended, but that was precisely why the Blood Tavern remained valuable. The world was too complicated for any individual to observe every important development, and those who lacked reliable information were often forced to make decisions after their opportunities had already disappeared.
Peclo had built his organization around that simple truth.
He did not know that, elsewhere, Donquixote Doflamingo had already begun considering how to take it from him. He did not know that Joker was no longer merely a name to monitor among the underworld's competing brokers, but a potential successor who intended to preserve the Tavern's outward identity while replacing the man at its center.
For now, Peclo's precautions remained in place, his organization continued to function, and the information flowing through the Blood Tavern continued to shape decisions far beyond its walls.
It was a network built to survive the dangers of the underworld.
Soon, it would face a danger it had not yet learned to recognize.