Devroux’s first realization upon reaching the Seventh District was how different it looked compared to the Ninth District. Certain other parts of Baltigo, namely the Nil District and the Lord’s Castle, had different amounts of money flowing to them – in both extremes of the sense – that warranted their differing appearance, but the buildings and other structures of the Seventh District represented something different than simple financial flow. Of course, according to the barkeep at Teddy’s, the Seventh District shouldn’t be struggling either with how important their trades were to the rest of Baltigo, its visitors, and especially the Fourth District. But as a beginning blacksmith himself, Devroux’s eyes were drawn to not only the way these buildings were constructed, but the materials used to make them.

The majority of the buildings were made of wood, with a few outliers in between built of different materials. They were also, for the most part, unpainted and not meant to pull guests by appearance alone. To the mink looking around the area it seemed as if those that worked here in the Seventh District were little concerned with fashion in comparison to the crafts that they made. The many anvils sitting out front, the vents billowing smoke, and the constant ringing of hammers on wood and steel made certain that anyone sightseeing would understand those that did business in the Seventh District were always hard at work. This, however, could also be seen as a business tactic.

The mink’s primary goal in venturing to the Seventh District was to find a place to set up shop so that he could build a customer base and expand on his craft. However, without the capital to open his own shop in competition with those that were already here, Devroux’s only option was to offer his help to any smith in the area willing to take the offer. With that in mind, he starting visiting shops starting with the closest one. Alas, this door-to-door tactic bore no fruit as time and time again he was ushered back out of every shop he entered. None of these smiths had time to train someone new, nor rely on someone with no namesake. In the few cases where the smiths had vacancies to allow for such help the mink’s newly acquired infamy on Baltigo would be the final nail in his coffin.

As businesses that dealt primarily with the cooperation of the Fourth District mercenaries, hiring one of the men that took the head of a kingpin’s named associate was completely out of the question. Devroux, however, wasn’t so blind that he couldn’t understand their reasonings. The buildings were plain and they built their business on honor, pride, and trust; hiring a man known to have gone against a potentially important customer would break the trust between these smiths and those that bought their wares. With his option to become part of this district being almost completely restricted to working for someone already in business, Dev’s options were again cut slimmer as he had to choose someone willing to not only hire help, but hire someone with a hefty price on their head in the underground world.

Although slightly dejected by his circumstances, Devroux continued his search for apprenticeship. Bart’s teaching and his own personal practice would mean that he’s start off with some experience, which at the very least put him at an advantage for any competing applicants. As Devroux walked deeper into the heart of the Seventh District the buildings slowly became more and more run down. Since it was a district located in a position directly connecting to other districts, most of the money and quality shops had been built on the outer edges of the district. This allowed customers to feel more comfortable with those they were doing business, but it also funneled business away from those that were unfortunate enough to situate themselves closer to the center.

Even as the buildings began to decrease in quality, the mink’s search continued, albeit for a shop that wasn’t much deeper than this. He wanted to learn his crafts and build a relationship with customers which wouldn’t happen if he got hired into a shop with little business. Although the day hadn’t gone as smoothly as he had expected it to, the world was large – large enough to hold a place where he could find someone that would hire a mink with his name. After going door to door, he finally met an older gentleman that let him continue beyond the introduction.


The man’s long, gray hair flowed seamlessly into an even longer beard, every bit as gray as the hair atop his head. His eyes were closed, or at least looked that way, although he would turn his head to look at the mink before him as they conversed. Whether the man could actually see him or not was something Devroux couldn’t tell just by looking, forcing him to flick his Kenbunshoku Haki on and off to get a feeling of the old man’s emotions. But the momentary view of what he was feeling showed nothing. The man, looking upon a mink with such a demonic appearance, showed no sign of fear or disdain. Even if he didn’t know about Dev’s recent antics with Clovis Adder, his appearance alone would normally insight some amount of emotion. The fact that the man was completely unmoved was amazing, even slightly discomforting, but the opportunity to sell himself was not to be missed.

Haki Stamina: 1/10

Devroux always fancied himself as someone that could remain calm and collected in most situations. The death of family or friends, murdering someone with his bare hands, the birth of a friend’s child – whatever the situation may be, there was little the fazed the mink unless his own interest was piqued. But in spite of that ability to remain composed, the old man was unnerving. His aura of overwhelming calm was more off-putting than any fear or hostility he could have had for the mink. It was a new sensation that he hadn’t felt since leaving Zou, but he wanted to meet the challenge with everything he could muster.

“My name is Devroux Alter, sir,” he began. “I’ve recently begun practicing as a blacksmith and I was wondering if you had any need for help or spare time to teach me anything you’ve learned.”

Through his thick, gray beard you couldn’t see the old man’s mouth, but when the facial hair shifted, you could grasp the expression he was giving. The beard contorted, showing the man’s smile before he offered up a reply.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Alter. My name is Sam. Sam Magligglan. As you can see,” he gestured to the shop, “I don’t get much business. I couldn’t pay you even if I hired you.” The beard shifted again, this time with his eyebrows in sink to give an expression of sadness.

Dev hadn’t really come in search of payment so much as a place to work. If it came to money, there were other things he could do with his time to make up for the time lost working here. “I don’t need money,” he said. “I just need experience.”

Sam chuckled and gently slapped his face. “If there’s anything I have, it’s ‘experience’,” he joked. “If you can honestly say you don’t need payment, I would be more than happy to take on your apprenticeship. I’m growing old – my body doesn’t function well enough to craft with the experience I have. If I can convey at least some of that to you before I go, then I’ll have won.”

“It would mean the world to me.” Devroux said it, truly appreciative of the opportunity that the old man was giving him. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but wait for the man to keel over though, leaving a vacant opening for him to run his own shop.

“Where did you first learn blacksmithing, if I may?  You don’t really seem the type to work with steel and grease.”

“I was originally taught by a man on Drum-”

“Ah, Bart,” Sam interrupted. “That old coot is still alive?”

“Alive and well,” Dev said, trying to hold his composure. This old geezer knew Bart, which gave them a common ground beyond just blacksmithing. “He taught me everything I know.”

Sam cackled, continuing only momentarily until he interrupted himself with a coughing fit. When he regained his breath, he took up the conversation again. “He was my first apprentice when I first opened shop. He was just a kid back then - a rambunctious kid, but a good kid nonetheless.”

“That’s amazing. Bart is the reason I blacksmith. He was such a good man.”

“Well, son,” the tone in Sam’s voice sounded regretful. “I’m old. I’ma have to go to sleep right about now.”

It was only six in the afternoon, but the mink didn’t want to press his luck.  He’d found someone to work with and that’s what really mattered.

“If you’d like, you can stay and work. I have a list of things here that you can work on and I’ll check everything in the morning.”

“Oh, that would be great. Any practice is good practice.”

Sam chuckled again, handing Devroux a notebook. As he flipped through it, there were measurements, dates, and other little notes ordered neatly throughout it.

“Everything is in order. There’s a red check next to completed orders, so start from the first unchecked one. Anything you need to know is all listed in it as well.” Sam’s face turned serious for a moment, “But DO NOT lose it. That’s my life. If I lose that, I lose all the customers I have.”

“Yessir,” Dev replied. Order was good, and he’d respect and protect that order.

“Through this door is the shop. I’m upstairs if anything goes wrong, son.”

Devroux nodded and waved to Sam as he left for the night.

Notebook in hand, Devroux let Sam walk away without further questions. The sun was still up for a little while and he had the man’s client orders, so it was an opportune chance to get some practice in. In recent months since leave Drum he had only had the opportunity to smith on his own time on few occasions, so it was imperative that he shake off the rust so he could give any customers the best product that he could muster.

While he worked on one of the weapons he thought back on his earlier conversation with Sam. Of all the blacksmiths on Baltigo – no, in the world – he had met the one man that had trained his original teacher. The chances of that happening were insanely slim, but it gave new, increased meaning to his first meeting with Bart. He would be sure to inquire about their relationship further given the next chance.

The forge Dev sat in front of was much smaller than the one that Bart had, with much fewer tools. It was a shop constructed for a specific purpose, meant to do only one thing. Sam Magligglan wasn’t prepared to smelt his own ores, so it was obvious that he purchased the majority of his stock. As such the man’s tools were also greatly reduced in comparison to Bart’s. The operation here was all about streamlining the work, making the process as easy it could be on Sam so that he could roll out as many weapons as possible; which also meant that he could please a greater number of customers even wh ile working alone.

Devroux worked into the night, intentionally doing so so that he could avoid the sun and soak up as much time in front of the forge as he could manage. When he got to a good stopping point with the sword he was crafting he paused, setting the weapon down on the bench. On his way out the door he locked the shop before heading home. With the sun set and the crowd diminished, he was able to spread his wings for the first time that day and enjoy the cool, night air on his flight home.

Unfortunately for him, Devroux would have to spend the following weeks rising early and sleeping late. His sleep schedule was not aligned to the one that Sam had taken, given how old he was. If he wanted to have any face time with Sam himself and still manage to work on his own time, Dev would be forced to manage his time somehow.

Every night the mink would stay late, working personally on the crafts any clients had ordered. In the mornings he’d arrive early enough so that Sam could check each piece of equipment for faults or critiques. After that was over, he’d spend the day watching Sam work on the single anvil he owned, motioning in unison as Sam did it to physically process the old man’s technique. If given the chance, Dev would take a seat and help craft on his own, but that rarely happened aside from when Sam left for bed. This routine carried on for a week before Dev was able to strike up a conversation about Bart during idle chit-chat with the old man.

“If you were his teacher and Bart was such a rowdy child, how did you sit him still enough to teach him smithing, let alone enjoy it?” Sam had been open about his relationship with Bart, having just been telling stories about the man back when they were together. This question, however, put a solemn look on Sam’s face.

“He rolled into town one day on one of those ships. He was so earnest about his desire to be a blacksmith and assist his crew mates. The look of sincerity on his face made it hard to turn him down, so I told him to get a better piece of steel to work on and let him continue his work in spite of his past.”

During his time on Drum, Dev had the opportunity of learning a little bit about the life of Bart. However, when it came to anything about the ocean and what caused his desire to settle onto a calmer island was brushed off with a mere mention of his regular home life. The fact that he gave no specifics, just as Sam was currently doing, made it sound as if he wasn’t just some sailor, but was once part of a pirate crew.

“Bart worked hard. He soaked up the information I gave him about blacksmithing and turned it into his own. He was an apprentice to end all apprentices. It’s a shame that he had to up and leave one day.”

This piqued Dev’s interesting. “What do you mean by that? He just disappeared?”

“Well, not out of thin air, but quickly. The first mate of the crew he was part of, “ he stammered, putting a finger to his lip in thought. “I think it was Tom. Tom something. Tom came into the shop one day, told Bart it was time to go, and I haven’t seen the bastard since.”

“So, you have no idea what has happened to him since?”

“Well, kind of. Every now and again someone will come in bearing the weapon or armor of Bart. That’ll, at the very least, give me comfort. He was like a son to me, so it was hard seeing him go. I just like knowing he’s alive.”

“It’s incredible that the one person I ran in to would know about Bart. It’s like I’m skipping a step and learning from the original.”

Sam chuckled at the notion. “Well, I hope you take what I show you and do good things with it. Not all eggs have been as good as Bart was.”

“Who was the worst person you’ve taught?” Dev asked, amused. Someone terrible at the craft or just another asshole pirate was the likely answer, but he was having a good conversation with Sam and wanted it to continue.

“Uh...” the old man hesitated. “The worst is probably Cassius. Cassius Butler was his name. He’s now a fucking kingpin.”

It wasn’t one of the expected answers.

“He is one of THE kingpins of Baltigo? You taught someone so important?”

“Heh,” Sam grunted. His face showed his lack of amusement with the statement. “Important is one way to say it. That little shit took what I showed him and has done terrible things with it. Same kind of stuff that makes up the blade on your back. I saw that, by the way.”

Sam was referring to Yoru, the weapon that Devroux always had strapped to his back. It was a keepsake of one of his first big adventures since leaving Zou, but it was also a weapon with beautiful craftsmanship and purity. But if Sam was so fired up about it, he wasn’t talking about the quality – he was talking about how it was created.

Yoru, as a weapon, was rumored to have been created using the bones of the people that lived in the master blacksmith’s home town. He folded their bones and blood into the steel, then heat-treated the weapon in a bath comprised of more blood. It now held the horrors that those people saw, often times too much for those with weaker willpower to wield. Dev had only barely gotten used to it, but it didn’t make it any less of a monstrous weapon.

If Cassius Butler were indeed what he was rumored to be, he’d be an interesting person to meet and potentially learn something from. The only question now was how he’d garner the attention of someone that important.

The conversation had taken a darker turn, so both of the men returned to their efforts rather than continue the conversation. There were still many orders that had to be completed.

[EXIT]