The nurses at the clinic in Nanohana were well equipped to deal with rowdy patrons. On numerous occasions they had physically restrained Devroux, forcing him to rest a few more days before he was able to set out, lest he desired to have his wounds become infected. Grudgingly, the mink accepted, as if they had given him a real choice in the matter. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that it was a good thing he was listening to them because he didn't want to end up falling ill and be out for a longer period of time, in addition to the fact that he still hadn't made a complete decision on where he intended to go after his talk with Tell Tale Tom. He had called out Baltigo, but that was just a gut feeling and it really didn't mean much more than a name drop at the time.

However, while Devroux was down and out, the Marines mobilizing outside of the clinic and the restlessness of Revolutionary forces were stressing him out. He wasn't involved in their fight and had no plans to be, so until the island calmed down, there really was no other option than for him to go elsewhere. He had future plans, albeit rough outlines of ones, and none of them included Baltigo. If he wanted to get strong before checking off the boxes on his adventurer's bucket list, he might as well use that hub of criminal activity to boost his skills.

The mink waited until the nurses gave him a green light before heading out but was met with misfortune right from the get-go. The sea train was currently gouging its customers, so if Devroux had any intent of reaching Baltigo he was going to have to fork out a hefty sum to get the job done. It wasn't as if he couldn't afford the ticket, but that he shouldn't have to to ride a measly, uncomfortable train to get to where he wanted to go. If he didn't want to fork out these kinds of sums frequently, he'd have to find a way to get his own ship at some point; with the obvious problem being that he had no clue how to navigate the ocean. Slapping down the cash, Devroux grabbed the ticket from the teller and boarded the next possible train so that he could reach Baltigo as soon as was physically possible.

The train had to stop at Marineford before it would make its way to Baltigo, so the ride was long and frustrating for the mink. He kept having the urge to check his wallet, continuously pulling it out and growing increasingly dejected at the new lack of money he had after paying for the ticket. His primary intention in coming to Baltigo was find a direction for himself and his journey, but while making that happen, he'd have to focus on re-lining his pocket with the now missing beli. Short of picking the pockets of any passersby that he could, he'd have to focus on some of the bounties that were sure to show up in an area as highly populated by criminal activity as Baltigo was.

When the mink finally reached his destination, the first thing he did was make a beeline towards the nearest pub. Most of these places, regardless of which side of the law they actually fell on, would hang up the wanted posters of pirates. If the location was more trustworthy and respectable, the posts would be hung up in case marines in the area wanted some of the action. However, as this was Baltigo, most of the taverns hung the posters up as a sort of prize wall – the man with the highest bounty earning bragging rights among the other patrons. This wasn't something that Devroux really had to deal with, however, as until he figured out what he was actually doing, he wanted to keep a low profile and keep any bounty off his head. But, if he could get cash, the bounties were useful to hunt for, especially when he could nab a couple of bank robbers from some quick and easy cash. The mink ripped two of the posters off the wall – ones naming Slippery Aiko and Driver Aido – and quickly fled the scene before any of the scum in the place wanted to start something over it.

Devroux wasn't done with taverns though, as he was thirsty. Even though he was running low on cash, grabbing a drink was worth the money and would help alleviate some of the stress. Plus, if he wanted to know something in a town like this, getting these guys drunk and squeezing the information out of them then was a valid tactic; one that the mink had employed several times before in his life. And so, a little way down the street the mink entered another tavern and quickly ordered a scotch. It wasn't until he happily turned away from the bar with his drink in hand that he realized how drastically different this locale was from the one he had been in down the street. While that one was run down and filled with drunken thugs, this one was built for people with a little more status. Dim lights set the mood, but Devroux couldn't tell if the lights were actually dim or if it were the thick layer of smoke hanging in the air, exhaled by the handful of well-dressed patrons smoking cigars. Every table was cleaned and shined, surrounded by men that all seemed aware of the fact that they shouldn't be trifled with.

This was a bar more Devroux's speed.

The mink wasn't as well dressed as the other men in the tavern, but he could pretend like he was. His wings were draped loosely over his shoulders already, but straightening his back and flexing the wings, he was able to bring them in tighter and give himself a slender, fitted look to match the others. With his new, defining stance taken, he took a seat at the bar and casually sipped his drink. He had ordered a normal drink, but his taste was refined and he was very specific in what he wanted. The mink had ordered a scotch in a rocks glass, with one cube of ice that he'd let sit for exactly 3 minutes before taking the first sip. By the third minute, the ice cube had dissolved just enough to bring out the flavor of the scotch a little further and slightly break up the bitter first sip. No matter how many times he had the drink or how much he enjoyed it, getting through the first sip was always a problem that he couldn't explain.

Whilst the mink enjoyed his gentleman's drink, he was hyper-focused on his ears and hearing. Focusing on parts of the room at a time, slowly tuning out different portions to tune into specific ones and get a grasp on the conversation they were having. The less he had to interact with these people, the less of a chance he'd end up doing something drastic to the far-too-cocky humans, so eavesdropping was the best route to take. He was mostly looking for any conversation about the Aido and Aiko bounties he had picked up at the last pub, but he wasn't expecting to hear names of low bounty pirates like them at this sort of establishment. That outcome was to be expected, and it was okay with the mink as long as he had a moment to relax and enjoy his drink, yet his interest was piqued by a certain table even amidst his acceptance of the fact that he wouldn't get anywhere.

It was only a split second before one of the men shushed the other, but there was mention of a man named Garrolt Taylor and "the bank." Even Devroux, who was relatively new to the area, knew who Garrolt Taylor was; everyone did. Taylor was a man known as one of the Nine Kingpins of Baltigo, specializing in the moving and trading of slaves. He skated the fine line of the law, remaining unable to be held accountable while still garnering all of the money and notoriety that came with it. He was different from the other Kingpins; active and personable, becoming known as the "People's Prince." Even though someone like that was obviously dangerous to get on the wrong side of, the idea of this kingpin hiding the majority of his wealth in one location was too good to pass up on. Devroux wanted in on that action, especially with what the seatrain did to him.

The men didn't say anything more about the subject though, getting up and leaving not long after it was brought up. On their way out, Devroux caught a quick glance of the three of them, quickly committing their faces to memory so that he could keep track of them while he silently followed them.

People were entering and exiting the tavern at all times of the day, so Devroux wanted to make sure that he didn't make it too obvious that he was intending to follow these men. The tavern didn't have a clock of its own; at least not where any of the patrons could see it. The goal of a place like this was to get the customers to lose track of time and keep spending money, so Devroux was forced to count the seconds in his head. After the men had left and the door closed behind them, the mink started counting. After exactly 180 seconds, Devroux gulped down the rest of his drink, laid money down on the bar counter, and left without saying another word.

With his arms still concealed beneath his wings, the mink reached to his back to make sure that Yoru was still firmly attached. Once confirmed, he felt more comfortable in his actions and began glancing in all directions, shuffling his feet and doing whatever he could to conceal his mannerisms from anyone that might intend to play witness. Luckily, it wasn't too long before he caught site of the jacket of one of the men. He had committed their faces to memory, but the pin-striped maroon color of his suit stood out among the crowd of scantily clad men and women or other black and blue suited men. Devroux scooted after these men, trying to keep himself several steps behind them. He kept up his looking around, just in case the men wanted to check behind them as they walked.

Devroux's tactic to go unnoticed was clever and masked by genuine emotion. He had never been to Baltigo before, so exploring the Ninth District was pretty high up on the list of things that he needed to do. This genuine curiosity would be what would fool anyone watching, not that anyone would specifically keep tabs on a random mink just for the sake of watching him. But the tactic didn't end up working as well as he had imagined it might. The three men turned down a side road a little way before Devroux and as the mink went to turn around the corner, he was grabbed by the three men and pinned against the wall.

"What the fuck do you want from us?" The man speaking was the man in the maroon suit, obviously the one in charge between the three of them. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small flip knife which he opened and pressed lightly against the mink's rib cage. Unbeknownst to him, however, what the knife was leaning up against wasn't Devroux's ribs, but the webbing of his wings that were still tightly draped over his body. This, as anyone who knew the mink could attest to, was not a smart move to make.

The knife pressing against his prized wings flipped a switch in Devroux's personality. If someone were closely watching his eyes, they'd be able to visually tell when the light was replaced by a darker, ominous tone. Gently, the mink started to expand his wings, pressing against the knife casually and softly to slowly push it back, yet not push it far enough to tip off the men that were trying to hold him captive. All Devroux needed was a moment to unsheathe Yoru and pull it around front, hiding his actions beneath the wings so that he could still act as if he were still the one who was powerless.

In a split second, Devroux thrust the blade of Yoru out through the central parting between his wings, straight into the stomach of the man that was pressing the knife against his wings. The blade pierced seamlessly through the man's flesh and even as Devroux unfurled his wings, shoving the other two men off so that he could raise his arms unrestricted, Yoru still cut effortlessly through the rest of the man, flesh and bone alike, until the entire top half of the mobster was cleanly sliced in half. Even though the man in the maroon suit may have been perceptive enough to see Devroux following him, he obviously wasn't prepared for any type of retaliation.

Devroux cast a quick glance down the street to make sure that no one had witnessed the murder. Not many people were around, none of which seemed alarmed, but it was most likely a lost cause given that he was nearly pitch black in a side street that was dimly lit at best.

The other two had been knocked to the ground by the unfurling of the mink's wings. His giant, bat-like wings were now fully extended, making him seem like a demonic being in the dead of night, but before the men in suits could call for help, Devroux made a blind slash towards one of the men, slicing his throat, and leaping onto the other to cup a hand over his mouth.

"If you don't want to die, you'll keep silent," the mink hissed into the man's ear, who shook his head in total compliance. "Good."

Devroux slashed towards the wall with Yoru. The momentum let the blood slide off the blade without resistance, cleaning it so that the mink could sheathe it once more. With his now free hand, Devroux ran a long, bony finger down the mobster's sweaty face.

"So, my friend, what can you tell me about this... Garrolt Taylor?"

Devroux's fingers were tipped with small claws that closely resembled sharpened finger nails roughly a centimeter in length. They were small, but they were sharp. Running his index nail up the suited man's face from his cheek to his temple, Devroux restated the question he had just asked, expanding on it further. "What is this bank you were talking about?" The mink slowly released the hand covering the man's mouth to allow him to speak.

"It's a place where you keep mo-" Devroux slapped his hand back over the man's mouth before he could finish his sarcastic remark. Straightening his index finger, he shoved his nail into the man's temple with almost no effort whatsoever and gripped his other hand tighter to muffle the man's screaming as much as possible. The mobster's breathing grew erratic and the panic began to truly show in his eyes as he realized he might not survive the situation regardless of the information he had on him.

With drawing the claw from the man's temple, Devroux held his finger up to signal the number one; as in, the man only had one more chance to answer if he wanted to live. The message was clarified further by the look on the mink's face and the single drop of blood running down the length of his finger. The man once again shook his head in understanding, prompting Devroux to release his hand one more time.

"The bank, man. It's just where Taylor keeps his shit." His voice was cracking periodically with high pitched tones as he blurted out what came to mind.

"And... where is it?"

"You think he'd tell me? You think anyone would tell me? You just cut the guy I listen to in half with no effort and you think I'd have information of value? Just let me go, man."

Devroux contemplated for a moment, still pushing his full weight into the man to keep him on the ground. He knew that the mobster was right. If it were him, he wouldn't share the quality information with the lowest people within his ranks either, so he couldn't blame Taylor for that trail of thought. But finding 'the bank' was still up there on Devroux's list of things that'd be interesting to do, so he had to press the man for more information. "I get it," he continued, "I know you're not lying. But I'm sure you know someone that'd know more than you."

"I don't know, man. I don't know that many people. The guy in the red suit was the guy I listened to, but we used to go to this guy on the southern edge of the Ninth District. He used to tell us what to do, if we were supposed to do anything. We weren't important, so we were only there kind of as back up. Big house. You can't miss it."

Devroux nodded. He wasn't sure if that information was valid or even useful, considering a "big house" isn't really detailed enough to go off of, but he didn't expect the man to be able to give him more information than that. The best course of action was to fly straight south and see what the southern edge of the Ninth District actually had. But before that, he had something else to attend to.

The mink placed his furry hand on the man's forehead and with a quick movement slammed his skull into the concrete street. The blow fractured his skull and rattled his brain, killing him on impact without leaving much of a mess to clean up. The other two mobsters had left a lot of blood, but the least he could do is refrain from doing the same to the final guy when someone else was going to have to clean up after him.

Devroux stood up and dusted himself off. He extended his wings and with a few quick pumps took flight. He adjusted his course and flew straight south, hovering above the city to keep himself out of sight in the night air, yet close enough to still see the lights of the city beneath. He didn't get a name, but a clear description of the mobsters would hopefully be enough if he found what he was looking for. The only information he had gotten was that he was looking for a big house, so that's what he'd be doing from the safety and comfort of the night sky.

Flying through the sky, Devroux had a better vantage point from which to view the Ninth District. During the day it had seemed to be busy and bustling with all manners of people, but at night, the streets were empty. There were a few people staggering through the streets as they bar hopped, but those people seemed to be few in number. It was fortunate that was the case, as if it were any busier than it was, he would have been seen when he slaughtered the mobsters in the alley.  The brisk night air and the empty, dimly lit streets gave a serene feeling to the otherwise risky streets of the Kingpin's business district.

The flight didn't last as long as Devroux had expected. The Ninth District was large, but he was a lot closer to the southern edge than he had originally thought. Within a few minutes, he began to close in on the cliff that marked the end of the district and fell off into the ocean below. As he neared this, he saw the building that he was looking for. The information that he had received from the mobster was clearly correct, at least as far as he knew currently. There was a house, sized marginally larger than the houses around it, but it also sat up on a small hill that put it right at the edge of the cliff.


The majority of the house's yard was placed at its front, secured from the rest of the world by a thin-looking iron gate. The grass was growing sparingly in patches with dirt covering most of the ground and dead trees littered throughout one's view. There was little care being taken of the yard itself, but the actual house looked to be in very good condition, albeit lacking a sense of vitality. Standing four stories tall, the house was a grayish blue in color. The walls were clean, the porch was spotless, and the only lights in the house seemed to be the ones in the foyer and one other room on the ground floor. Whether this would end up being the person that Devroux was looking for, he wouldn't know, but it was at least worth a shot with a house that was so much more visible than the ones surrounding it.

The frail iron gate was of little meaning to the flying mink, who flew into the yard and landed a few meters from the front door. As he descended from the sky, he flapped his wings with more power in increasing intervals in order to set himself down gently. With his feet firmly placed on the ground, Devroux checked to make sure that all of his weapons had survived the flight and then draped his wings over his shoulders as he traditionally does. On the ground, the house was much larger than it had looked from the sky, but it lit an exciting fire in the mink's belly.

From what the mobster had told him, this wasn't the bank he was looking for, but it would be the next step as long as it did happen to be the correct house. All that he had to do now was step up and knock on the door.

Before Devroux could step up and knock on the eerie-looking door her heard a loud thump on the ground behind him. When he turned around, he found a tall man with extremely long legs straightening himself up after an almost defiant landing begging for attention. He had grown up with minks and seen plenty of men, but this was Devroux's first time coming in contact with a living member of one of the long-limb tribes. The humanoid creature looked normal with the exception of his freakishly long legs, which made him uneasy; as if he should feel sorry for the man with comical proportions. But as the creature drew closer, Devroux threw these thoughts out of his mind in order to be open to any possibility of a threat, or even the option of the opposite.

The defiant feeling that the creature gave off when he landed continued as it spoke. Each word was slung with demands, without the courtesy of a name and the only reference to himself being given to protect him from any repercussions for assumption's on Devroux's part. Looking at the long-legged man, the mink's eyelids closed slightly as he tilted his head down and his eyes swapped from the warmth that he traditionally attempted to throw to the cold, deathly glare that he had given to the mobsters not that long ago. He wasn't so quick to jump at the man for nothing but a few words, but irritation did begin setting in quickly.

"My apologies, sir." Devroux gave a slight bow with his head, filled with the same cold intention as his eyes, but his following words were filled with the same warmth that they usually were. "I don't wish to be in your way in the slightest. I have but a few questions for the man inside, then I'll be on my way. As for my name, it's Devroux. Devroux D. Alter."

Devroux lifted his head back up to look at the tall, long-legged man in the eyes. His eyes were back to the warm, bright look, with a faint smile lining his face to complete the intent behind his words. He had hoped he was able to hide his facial expression and frustration from the man before him, banking on the sheer height difference, but he couldn't tell just yet.

Noctis S. Coronus. Devroux, just as he knew Garrolt Taylor's name, had heard this name before too. At least, he had heard of a Coronus. The other one, whose name he couldn't remember off the top of his head, was a prominent businessman in the Ninth District who had disappeared several days ago. Whether the long-legged man in front of him was the same as that one, or had any connection whatsoever, didn't really concern the mink on his current voyage. His priorities were set on the cash at the end of the yellow brick road, and he had to speak to the man inside. But yet again, before he could make his way to the door, the man, Noctis, asked a question that called back haunting memories for Devroux.

He asked about his reasons for coming, calling back Devroux's memories of his sea train ride to Baltigo. Before he had managed to ride the train, he had to go through a very large, overweight woman that looked eerily similar to a witch from any popular fairy tale. She looked, and acted that way, using her oppressive personality to muscle money out of Devroux's wallet into her hands just so he could get to his desired destination. It was the first time he had been mentally fatigued by anyone else so convincingly, and it emotionally scarred him even several days after the fact.

The mink looked off into the distance for a moment, recalling these dreaded memories, before he shook it off in order to respond to the long-legged man's question. "Well, lest I get in trouble for my malintent, I'll leave it with that latter information. We can speak to him together. Come, come."

Per Noctis' suggestion, Devroux took the lead and led the duo to the door. His pace was hasted just to keep ahead of the long-legged man's natural stride. It was off-putting, especially since he took the lead by his suggestion, but he couldn't pin the blame on the man for not realizing it himself. He wouldn't be the first person to not realize their own strength and he certainly wouldn't be the last. If something felt natural, then that's all it was.

They reached the porch and Devroux took a deep breath, preparing mentally for anyone that answered the door, before giving it a solid knock. There was a good chance that if this man had any relation to the mobsters or to Taylor, he'd have an ego to flaunt. Best for Devroux to be prepared for the chance so that he could ask his questions without wanting nothing more than the cut off the man's head.

Through the window pane on the door, Devroux could see an extremely large, shadowy figure rise from a chair at the sound of the knock. It almost seemed to fill the entirety of the room, slowly making its way closer and closer to the door. The door-knob turned and as the heavy, wooden door swung open all that remained of the shadow beast within was a small man in a trench coat. When he answered the door, he seemed to be hunched over, but when he straightened himself up to greet his guests, he turned out to be roughly the same height as Devroux was.


"Hello, hello," he said. His voice was calm and cool, giving an air of total ignorance towards the people that hand shown up at his door in the middle of the night. "What can I do for you at this hour, my friends?"

Devroux wasn't sure if his personality gave off the scent of arrogance or if he was just blissfully ignorant to the possibility of being attacked, but whatever the case was, it scratched at Devroux's nerves ever so slightly. It wasn't nearly as bad as he had prepared, but it would grow if it continued.

"My associate and I," Devroux gestured to Noctis, who was standing behind him, "were here on business. We were meeting with some of your men and they told us that maybe you could be of help in getting in contact with Garrolt Taylor."

"Hmph, what men?"

"I can't seem to recall his name, but he was wearing a maroon suit. Very proper fellow."

The man's eyes narrow slightly, but he opened the door the rest of the way and gestured for the two men to enter. "Feel free to take a seat. But before I go looking for Taylor, you've got to convince me that you're a business worth dealing in."

Noctis and Devroux entered the house at the man's behest, entering into a large foyer. To their left was a tall, winding staircase leading into the upper levels of the mansion. At the foot of the stairs was an open doorway leading into the western wing of the house. However, as interesting as the dark parts of the house might be to Devroux, the man that had answered the door lead them straight away from the door into the front livingroom. It was large and well lit, being the only room that would show a light from the outside. What was interesting about the room was that it was unkempt to match. With a cot in the corner to complete the evidence, Devroux assumed that the man must stay solely in this room but couldn't think up a reason as to why that might be the case.

The man took a seat in the chair facing away from the door; the same chair he had seen the shadowy figure rise from from through the window pane. It faced a large couch, where Noctis took a seat haphazardly. For Devroux, it was an interesting sight to witness a long-legged have to arch his legs to properly sit in the chair, but it was not so interesting in a comical way than it was in an educational form. The mink took a seat next to his temporary partner, listening to the question that Noctis posed.

Everyone knew how important Garrolt Taylor was on Baltigo, but Devroux was unaware of the type of business that he actually took part in. It seemed that the long-legged man knew more than he had initially represented, and it was an easy point for Devroux to stick to in further expansion of the conversation. Very interesting, to say the least. The man sitting opposite to them seemed to be just as interested in the question, albeit for an alternate reasoning.

"Hmph," the man scoffed. "You're better off cancelling that order completely. Garrolt Taylor has resigned from that business."

The chance presented itself early, but it was a chance for Devroux to guide the conversation in a manner that suited his goal, so it was a chance that he had to take. "Well, you see, Mr..."

"Adder. Clovis Adder."

"Mr. Adder. You see, we're kind of in a little bit of a situation here. We have a bunch of slaves and don't really have the contacts to move them without Mr. Taylor."

"Yes, I'm sure that's the case. You wouldn't be looking for Taylor if you didn't have the merchandise necessary to satisfy him. Not many other traders on Baltigo can handle that kind of volume, if any at all."

"So, you see our problem here. We were just looking to get an audience with him, for some business advice."

Noctis sat next to Devroux idly, not speaking up since his initial question, but listening intently to the conversation at hand. The long-legged man was no doubt plotting something of his own, but if he were playing such a key role in Devroux being able to usher his goals forward, there was no reason to believe that his intents may turn malicious.

"I don't think Garrolt Taylor is really in the business of giving advice." Clovis even laughed at the idea, scratching at Devroux's patience just a little bit more. "He definitely doesn't have time for people that I wouldn't even know."

"What is it that you do for Mr. Taylor, if I may ask?"

"I don't see how that's important."

"You're right. I just figured that someone so trusted by a man as powerful as Garrolt Taylor would know of us. We're very prominent in the Black Market on Jaya."

Clovis Adder smiled, finding the slight jab from the mink entertaining. The man slowly rose from his chair as he said, "Enough of this farce."

Every muscle in Devroux's body tightened in preparation for an attack. He wasn't sure how much of a threat Adder might be, but his worry was for naught, at least for now.

"Garrolt Taylor has retired from the slave trade. He's got more lofty goals than that."

"He's a kingpin. He's cornered the market. What kind of goal is greater than that?"