As Noctis sat alone in a reserved corner of Teddy's, a bar that had become a regular spot on Devroux's recommendation, he couldn't help but feel restless as he labored over the whereabouts of his fellow ex-slaves and companions. It had been quite some time since he had seen them last, only barely recalling how Doce and Three had rescued him from Dane's Estate after the People's Prince had beaten him within an inch of his life. As he ran through all the available information again, Noctis took a large swig of the malt-whiskey in his glass, groaning with frustration.

With such a lack of intel, it felt impossible for Noctis to locate his companions. Not only had they not left any information behind when they dropped Noctis off at Goldov's clinic, but they were former slaves. They had no identity, and weren't even proper people in the eyes of society. Whatever mark they left in their wake would be ignored and forgotten, leaving Noctis at a loss. Downing the rest of his drink, Noctis left his payment on the table and stood up from the bar stool, walking promptly out of the bar and into the street. If he had come to realize anything from recent experiences, it's that investigating hands on was his best bet now. With his eyes and ears peeled, Noctis began to make his way towards the populous sectors of Baltigo's districts.

Foot traffic was busy given the time of day, it was dusk and almost everyone was making their way home from work, or going out to enjoy the nightlife. It made it easy for Noctis to blend in as the current of people flowed around him like water as he moved slowly. Eavesdropping on the conversations of those around him was an excellent way for Noctis to siphon information about current events, though the gossip and drama he picked up on was it's own reward. People's concerns and worries seemed so minuscule to Noctis that hearing them complain about things like their food or how someone looked earlier was as entertaining as he could hope for.

As Noctis strolled along leisurely, hours passed without so much as a single gem or clue. He had been to almost every point of interest in both the Ninth and Seventh Districts, and had even spent a few minutes within the Lord's Castle District, though the popular topics of conversation there revolved around gambling and debts, as well as the opening of a new casino sometime soon. All in all, things seemed bleak as Noctis neared the edge of the Seventh District. Yet, Noctis began to pick up on a trend, something most peculiar. As he neared less crowded areas such as the boundaries between districts, chatter began to become more involved, as people traded news about their districts, almost as if it were a competition or bragging rights were on the line.

It was during one of these exchanges that Noctis found his lucky break.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Keep talkin' bud. What do you guys even do down there, make butter knives?" One scrawny and relatively well dressed man scoffed as he not so subtly attempted to make distance between himself and the man he was trading thinly veiled insults with.

"You're god damn right, and those knives will carve little men like you from your skull down to your jewels if you aren't careful." retorted the burly and gruff man who stood at least a foot taller than the runt in front of him, and weighed twice as much. Soot stains patched his clothing which was worn down from hours at the forge, a prime example of the stereotypical working man. "By the way, you shits can't even keep your animals under control. I heard you guys have been dealing with arsonists lately. Pathetic."

Noctis' anger peaked as the 7th District worker referred to slaves as animals, but Noctis wasn't looking to cause a scene or dole out hard justice. He just wanted to find Doce and Three. Normal criminals would be foolish to attack Garrolt Taylor's district, and the way the men spoke implied that it was the work of slaves that had evaded capture or execution. Noctis knew that many of Taylor's slave holdings were being killed off, and definitely none were getting free. Unless there had been more recent slave escapes, Noctis felt it had to be someone from Dane's.

Perhaps it was a reach made with desperate hope, or maybe it was strictly intuition, but Noctis truly believed it had to be the work of his friends. Not wanting to waste time, he walked past the arguing pair and into the Eighth District to search for signs of fire in the night sky.

Noctis trudged along deeper into the Eighth District, the night air was cool enough for his breath to start to become visible, and the lingering scent of smoke smothered everything around, making it even harder to find a recent arson. The longer Noctis searched, the more clear it became that there was almost no activity in the district. Whoever the arsonists were, tonight wasn't their night. Noctis turned to leave the district when he heard the clattering of construction in the distance. If for no other reason but curiosity, Noctis made a u-turn and walked in the direction of the commotion.

As Noctis got closer, the sounds became more distinguished. Rather than construction, it seemed that things were being taken down or torn apart, the sound of hollow wood slamming into the ground with a dull echo. Rounding the corner, Noctis was ecstatic with the sight. A burned out husk of a building, being slowly demolished and thrown into a container full of ash stained debris. Little remained the the structure, but Noctis was able to make out what exactly it was. A storage facility meant to hold as many people as physically possible. For a regular citizen the building wasn't much of a target, but for a slave it represented much more. It was obvious whoever the arsonists were, they were definitely escaped slaves or slave sympathizers. With the talk of the streets being all but confirmed, Noctis stood out of sight and waited for the demolition crew to call it a night.

Stepping into the frame of the building, it gave Noctis chills as memories of his past seemed to resonate within the burnt walls. Ash was piled up on the floor for several inches, causing Noctis to sink down with every pace he took. For what remained of the building, it was left incredibly barren, a testament to how little slavers were willing to pay for amenities. Yet, as Noctis made his way deeper into the building, he spotted an anomaly; and exposed section of foundation, as if purposefully wiped away. Carved into the foundation was a crude symbol that took Noctis a few moments to recognize; it was Dane's brand. The brand he used to mark all of his 'property' followed by three vertical lines to denote number. Three. Three had left her mark here for someone to find.

With the assurance that his companions were still out there, Noctis was able to take a deep breath and relax. With their motive and targets in mind, Noctis could call it a night and head back to Teddy's, ready to begin his pursuit in earnest in the morning.

[Exit]