"You. Come here."
Louis returned to the tavern, grabbed one of his fellow countrymen by the shoulder, and pulled him toward a quiet corner.
After scanning the room to make sure no one was paying attention, he lowered his voice.
"I need you to handle something. Go to the black market and get the locations of the World Government offices and Marine bases. Whatever's left from this money is yours."
He carefully repeated everything Robin had told him.
The man counted the money quickly. He couldn't read a single word, but when it came to cash, his fingers moved like lightning.
3.05 million Berries.
The intelligence used to be distributed freely to every town. Now it cost a flat 3 million. That left 50,000 as his reward.
But buyers were rare these days. If he bargained well, he might push the price down and pocket closer to 100,000.
That wasn't small money.
"Vice-Captain, don't worry. We're all from Baron Trill's territory. I'll handle this cleanly for you."
News of Louis' promotion had already spread. The man eagerly tried to strengthen their "hometown bond."
Louis ignored the flattery.
"Hand it to me quietly. Don't attract attention. And stop talking about hometown ties."
There was an old saying: Villagers cheat villagers until both cry.
When Louis first joined the ship, his competence had made him stand out. His fellow countrymen had "borrowed" from him twice before he learned better.
Since then, their relationship had been cold—borderline hostile.
Still, orders were orders.
If this task failed, ship regulations would deal with it.
After all, he was simply following Captain Medica's directive: any reasonable request from Robin was to be fulfilled.
He was not engaging in secret cooperation.
Absolutely not.
And if these countrymen were exposed? So what.
They weren't close enough to drag him down.
Thinking about how Robin would disembark at the next island, Louis felt his mood brighten.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
In his blind spot—
An ear that had just bloomed on the wall silently vanished.
Under the brim of her hat, Robin smiled to herself.
So this was his base.
From her observations, at least a hundred men on the ship shared Louis' hometown.
If each of them had just two close friends, that was three to four hundred men total.
Nearly a third of the Tequila Pirates.
Such a foundation.
Such influence.
No wonder he harbored ambition.
She swirled her fruit wine slowly.
Cold in public. Organized in private. Trusted by Medica. Strength, connections, foundation…
If he didn't stage a coup, who would?
Robin rose and sat beside him.
"Vice-Captain," she said smoothly, "how long will we be staying here?"
Louis immediately scanned the tavern.
Three drunkards arguing.
A waitress wiping tables.
Too many ears.
"Three more days," he said curtly. "Don't ask about ship matters. This place is crawling with loose tongues."
He intended to ignore her after that.
Robin suppressed a laugh.
This tavern was already leaking like a sieve.
She hadn't intended to ask about secrets anyway.
"I still have belongings at my previous residence," she said lightly. "They're packed. Captain Medica told me to rely on you if I need assistance. I'd prefer not to have rough pirates handling my personal items…"
She tilted her head slightly.
"Well?"
What do I think? I think you're waving a chicken feather like it's an imperial edict, Louis cursed internally.
Outwardly, he frowned and barked in the harshest tone possible:
"Stop rambling. Give me the address. I'll move them now."
Three Days Later
The Tequila Pirates departed on schedule.
Louis' caution had been justified.
The bartender was Marine intelligence.
So were the waiters.
The cook.
The bouncer.
The dishwasher.
Even the bar owner.
And the newspaper vendor across the street.
Nine people in total.
The moment the Tequila Pirates left port, all nine moved.
Within a day, the report sat on the desk of Vice Admiral Gust of Marine G-12 Branch in West Blue.
As a high-priority target, intelligence concerning the Tequila Pirates was expedited.
Within an hour, the file reached Gust's hands.
"Tequila Pirates again?" Gust muttered. "Cause trouble all you like. When I'm free, I'll sink you myself. I'll just borrow a Headquarters colonel and see if you survive that."
He opened the file.
Currently, the Tequila Pirates possessed the highest combined bounty in West Blue.
Gust monitored them closely—even at the cost of exposing intelligence assets cultivated for five or six years.
Yet he had deliberately avoided direct confrontation.
The crew was powerful.
They targeted nobles, not civilians.
They avoided unnecessary bloodshed.
And when they did fight, they annihilated their opponents completely.
Because of Captain Medica's "nobles only" rule, the Tequila Pirates had:
A fearsome reputation High bounties Significant strength
But little impact on ordinary civilians.
From the Marines' perspective, pirates who ravaged villages were far more dangerous.
Noble complaints only resulted in bounty increases.
Suppressing low-level, widespread pirate activity was the priority.
Of course…
There was another reason.
Marine branch ranks did not equate to Headquarters strength.
A typical Branch Colonel equaled a Headquarters Captain.
A Branch Vice Admiral equaled roughly a Headquarters Colonel.
A strong one might match a Brigadier General.
Gust?
He was… four levels behind.
Barely stronger than a Headquarters Lieutenant Colonel.
Weaker than most Headquarters Colonels.
Elite Marines were stationed on the Grand Line.
West Blue received leftovers.
If Gust truly wanted to crush the Tequila Pirates head-on—
He would need to mobilize his entire branch for a guaranteed victory.
And even then…
It wouldn't be easy.
The net was tightening.
And neither Louis nor Robin yet realized how many eyes were already watching.