It must have been the cheap liquor they had served him; it tasted like swill- but taste aside, though, he had to admit, that as a suppressant for the nerves, it worked wonders. The recent string of events had left him completely on the edge, and while alcohol was not the perfect remedy for his ailment, it was, nevertheless, the best cure he had discovered thus far.

It was difficult for him to navigate back to the inn with which he had taken up for the past few days: the path he followed was simply constructed from vague guesswork within his foggy mind. Every twist and turn was a blur, but somehow, the sight of it managed to garner his attention.

It was... in his inebriated state, he found it a challenge to search for the proper adjectives to describe such a creature, but a very tiny, almost indistinct voice in the back of his head demanded he turn the other way; despite its insistence, he walked- or rather stumbled- towards the creature, who seemed to be inexplicably drawing him to it. For some reason then, the apparition started to shift in his mind. It swelled and shrunk, grew bottles for arms and a barrel for a body, and it seemed to speak to him in a heavy and indistinguishable accent.

What on Earth, he thought, groggily, as he fell forward into the figure's now flesh-and-blood arms.

The last thing he heard was: "Hey, how far is the Empire from here?"

"Good morning, Isaak...Fernand von Kampfer," said a voice. It was already morning when he awoke; Isaak stared at the stranger, wondering a) how on earth the stranger had found his present residence; b) who the hell the young man was; c) what in the hell had happened last night; d) if he had been...taken advantage of by the young man in question.

As to d), he found that he was intact, in the sense that he was not in any pain in any unusual places and thus was assured that the young man had not done anything to him. He exhaled deeply.

"Cain," said the young man, to the unasked question, "Knightlord," he added, almost as an afterthought.

"Oh," he replied, quite surprised. Telepathy, he noted, and then, Yes, echoed in his mind. "Ah, I would appreciate it if you didn't do that," he remarked.

Cain appeared not to have heard him, "Isaak Fernand von Kampfer, I asked you a question yesterday- I sincerely wish you would give me the answer now."

"You may call me Isaak, you know," he said casually, "And I beg pardon? Sorry, I was...drunk yesterday night; my memory's a tad...foggy."

"Isaak," Cain said in an exasperated tone, "How far is the Empire from here?"

"I couldn't tell you the exact distance, but I would have to say, rather far indeed...Cain."

"Oh," said Cain, now sounding vaguely disappointed. He sighed. "It won't work that way, I suppose."

"Uhm, Cain?" Cain didn't look at him, "How were you expecting to get to The Empire?"

"I would fly, of course."

"The airships are quite reliable, you know."

Cain looked at him as if he were mad, "Why would I be taking an airship?"

"You did say...'fly'?"

"I said, 'I would fly', I don't think I mentioned any passengers."

"You own a private airship then."

"Tsk, Isaak, you're so thick-headed- I meant these," there was a flash of feathers, and Cain was now bearing three pairs of wings. Seconds after they appeared, they moulted profusely until the wings disappeared entirely.

"What's wr-?" he started, and then something in Cain's eyes made the question die on his lips.

"Someone tried to kill me- and failed," Cain said, nonchalant, "I think I'm a bit... broken now, though."

Isaak shifted out of his bed and picked up a bunch of fallen feathers from the floor, "Maybe I could...fix you," he murmured, examining the feathers.

Cain stared at him, and then at the feathers in his hand. "Really?" Cain said, rather disbelievingly.

"Yes, I mean, to return the favour and all."

"I see," said Cain, with a smile. "You know what? One might almost say that this is the beginning of a beautiful... friendship."