Summary: Jack Vessalius had been described as someone with undeveloped individuality. Water. If he found himself earlier than meeting someone who was destined to die, how could everything have played out? OCs. NOT OC-centric.
Author's notes: To prevent confusion, I'm calling Revis, Levy, Levi, etc. 'Revis' And Oswald as Oswald unless being addressed by someone who either doesn't know or he being referred to since the title 'Glen' is being passed around. In this chapter (and the succeeding unless I specify such), Glen is Revis.
Also, I'm going to be basing the 'time according to the sky' to the countries near the equator if you get what I mean. Dawn is approximately 6:30 am. Dusk is around 7 pm.
Pairings: Undecided, but It's pretty much inevitable. No OC pairings unless people really want them.
Rating: Teen, T
Warnings: Twisted minds, cursing, descriptive gore (toned down), craziness, etc. OCs.
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Chapter Two
A Circumstantial Rhapsody
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There was something off about today that Jack couldn't place his finger on. It wasn't June nor Aron, nor Felice since he usually only felt apprehensive and candidly defeated when they were going to visit. It was... different. Ominous but somehow... appealing. Something... important. But that was merely one of the concerns that flooded his mind.
The spring threshold was just about to begin when he had finally decided that he wasn't going to sell the old shack that sheltered him from the harsh weather. He had decided that he would sell it since he had more or less decided to abandon it later in life and it wouldn't hurt to have extra cash available when he would possibly be in dire need of it. Maybe when the land's temperature rose to later which would be safe for makeshift outdoor beds, he would. That wasn't too far off, and it could wait, since most of the spring's climate was still cold enough to keep an apple fresh despite time.
He had somehow felt… lighter after his tears had fell and dried. A burden on his shoulders was lifted and he didn't know how much depression his mother had caused until it was gone. No one comforted him in his early stages of grief. June had tried but when she had he had already done all the emotional releases he could have done. A small tinge of depression made its way into his chest, being dimly reminded of his mother but was squished by the thought that he had friends now. Parental love can't ever be replaced he knew, but this thought was... plenty more heartwarming than his mother's near unhinged smiles and wails of displeasure. Jack knew better than to keep everything bottled up, but he thought that being a little too cheerful was tiring so he would only express his delight with short smiles and chuckles. Aron had said that before meeting the troublemaking little tykes of the Southern District, his eyes were like a fish's. Dead. Lifeless. Dull. Their energetic demeanor and warm exchanges changed him. He learned how to smile. Hansel was the eldest of that group, being the self proclaimed leader—but was still acknowledged by the rest. They called themselves 'Southern Sabrie Warriors' which was quite… ironic, considering that their favorite past times were leading people in circles and subtle pranks to the non natives of the South and less than acceptable methods of gaining money. He really didn't like dealing with them now. Sure, he liked their company before, but they had asked him to be their leader but he had declined them point blank. He refused to shoulder the responsibility of feeding, leading and teaching more than two dozen children younger than even he was.
"Would you like to be our new leader, Jack?"
Sighing for the nth time this day, he silently calculated for his remaining money. June had generously handed him a bag of gold and silver and refused to be refused. Jack just didn't want her to bestow her wrath upon him. It was certainly better than being someone who had to steal to live, but he still had his pride. He soundlessly stepped into the crowded streets and started counting his paces. Hopefully cross the crowded market street without any misfortune. He was usually knocked down whenever he even attempted to go through all the people that knew how to move in sync with the crowd. He'd never really learned how to as he preferred to slip through alleyways instead of the congested main roads that crossing would most likely make him broke with all the sneaky little thieves running around this time of day. He'd always gotten bumped into and ended up bruised in random body parts when he did and he hoped that when he hit his growth spurt, he would actually grow taller and these wouldn't happen anymore. Thankfully, he managed to weave through the busybodies that chanced the main avenue with little to no trouble, not even tripping once— which in and of itself should've given him a clue that something was wrong. He had been somewhat in an emotional rollercoaster this past weeks and he needed the breather, just letting go and forgetting about all the problems.
He went to a somewhat dimly lighted pub that served him good food with a warm smile. It was one of the more friendly places in this district—Southern District was very poor after all— and it was situated in a very accessible place, just by the south path of the Town Square. Only very few even know how to navigate these streets without getting lost but he definitely could (he got a little rusty this past week, but nothing a quick rounds couldn't resolve). Aron knew it like the back of his hand, running around in circles until he knew where best to move during his periodical 'heists'. June still managed to get lost a lot— it infuriated her to no end that the thief Aron did something better than her. They had something of a competition between the both of them in which who could outdo who in the smallest span of time and June almost always won, but when she lost—even with the smallest of margins— Aron would parade it around like it was something that big (which to him apparently it was).
"Sorry Jack, we aren't earning enough to keep up with our expenses, so I can only give you a few today." The owner sent him an apologetic glance.
After receiving a fresh piece of bread and warm soup, Jack had thanked the diner's owner with a smile and was sent off with a merry wave. (He had silently slipped six nickels into the owner's pocket. He had money, so why not be grateful? The owner rejected any kind of payment so he had to sneak it in.)
"Make sure you come back, little one! I make it a point to keep you fed!"
"Yes, sir. Owner, sir!" Jack gave a small grin and a lousy salute with his left hand in order not to spill the soup.
"Now, shoo. Your fans are waiting for you!" The owner said shamelessly. Jack laughed, fans? and continued on.
"Yes, yes. Whatever you say, Owner."
He left the diner with a small spring to his step. The owner definitely knew how to make him laugh. He had met this pub's owner when Dia came— around a week or two ago— to visit; and being a naturally compassionate old man, he had taken an immediate liking to the Southerner that Jack was and opted to often feed him not-so-free meals. Dia had made small talk with the owner, easily charming her way through with a smile and pretty words. Jack had just watched in amusement as Dia did what he usually pulled on June. He had no idea why, but people folded like wet paper whenever he even gave them the smallest of smiles. He reminded himself not to smile too much as it would probably lose its effect. Looking at him like he had grown another head? It was very amusing to see them actually. Do smiles lose their effect though? He didn't know.
The blonde's next destination was the Town Square, hoping to catch up on his people-watching. It was a routine that he rarely broke, having little else to do. The town square wasn't as crowded as the main avenue, but there was still a considerable stuffiness that permeated the air; but it was truly ardent and lively. It was floored with cement, where rust red bricks were sunk under was in between. The Square was large, around the size of ten or so of his—yes, his, not his mother's— house. There was a platform by the far back's center that was elevated until it roughly reached around his nose's tip and had wooden block stairs on opposing sides. The city wide announcements were usually heralded here and when that happened the square was more than just a little crowded—it became stifling and hard to breathe with all the people cramming towards the stage. Jack usually avoided those events, as word of mouth was usually enough to keep him updated.
Speaking of news, those 'chains' had been causing great discomfort to the populace as of lately. Heck, even he was scared of what might happen. Aaron had already been warned and the thief had stopped his nightly escapades. At least until the Baskervilles decided to do something about it. There had been several disfigured and bloody bodies found around town and they said that they looked like they were eaten.
He sat on a ground beside a bench that was around several yards from the stage. Most people found it distasteful that the lower classes that were messily and clumsily dressed sit on the benches that were maintained by workers who were paid by the city's ruling family; it was an unspoken rule that the commoners that were 'dirty' weren't allowed to freely do anything in the square, sitting on the chairs was a no-no.
His curious eyes swept over the carefree scene that unfolded in front of him. There were little kids footling around the square, several housewives and mages were chatting with attempted articulation—amusingly failing to do such a simple task— several people were just milling about purposely, heading towards fixed directions, their eyes focused on whatever they were presently doing. There were several brightly cloaked people, but the most noticeable was a white haired red clad man— who was in turn surrounded by a bunch of other red cloaked men. There was something about him that screamed danger though he certainly seemed friendly enough. He was chatting rather noisily if the reactions from his companions were to be based upon. The smile he was wearing suggested that he was amused and carefree, sending everyone furtive glances—maybe it was just him, but he couldn't jump to any conclusions— but there was something odd about it... like he was expecting... something.
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Being Revis's servant was... tiring for a lack of a better word. He was impulsive, annoyingly so. Revis liked to portray himself as carefree and idiotic and it was grating on Oswald's nerves. He wouldn't even try to act like the dignified clan head he was. He fooled around and still managed to retain everyone's respect, how he pulled that off, Oswald didn't know. He knew that he was going to become the next Glen, Revis-sama had said it himself, since the Raven had already been transferred a few months ago and outright refused to be like him. (The next ceremony was around a few more months, and it made him nervous.) Revis's whims were a bother to fulfill and he was hard to satisfy, making Oswald's job harder.
This morning was no exception. Revis-sama had asked him to make a tea with honey, lemons, roses, ginger and cinnamon in a perfect blend suitable to his tastes—not even telling him his preferences and he found it incessantly troublesome, as Revis's tastes changed every so often.
The noirette had been normally attending to his duties when Revis had up and left, leaving him to his own devices. The white haired man usually only did that when he was going to Lacie's tower, fortunately or unfortunately, he didn't know. She was, after all, a secret that not even he was supposed to know the usual whereabouts of— not that it stopped him from visiting every now and then. Lacie was his beloved little sister and he couldn't help but be slightly resentful of the fact that she was a child of misfortune. He knew that it was the reason why Lacie was kept hidden, but he couldn't help but feel that she didn't deserve the isolation. He was certainly at fault for her suffering, being the next Glen, he had been bound to make some distortions around him. Oswald had always blamed himself for Lacie's situation but she refused to be pitied and he found out endearing. It was unfair, an existence such as hers.
"Little Oswald?" He heard Revis's voice chirp in question.
"I'm already old enough to not be called small, Glen-sama." Oswald said, dully noting that he had been snuck up upon again.
"Whatever you say my cute little servant." Revis said with a playful wink, knowing that Oswald meant it.
"Lacie?" Oswald prompted.
"Ah... that's a problem. It seems she has run again." He said exasperatedly. "That's the third time this month! What happened this time?"
The purple eyed teen sighed.
It had been quite a quiet morning when Lacie had barged into his quarters and snuggled beside him. He had still been somewhat groggy and had snapped just her as he had lacked sleep due to an errand that Revis had asked him to do, said some scathing words that made Lacie a bit hurt— nothing that would make any irreparable damage though. That he was sure of. Oswald could apologize, and yes, Lacie usually accepted his apologies since she usually sulked for a while, came to terms with the problem and waited for him to feel guilty enough to apologize (she was very devious). It worked every single time (much to his chagrin) but he couldn't bring himself to actually ignore her—she was his precious sibling after all. Also, this wasn't the first time that it happened, because when he became a little too insulting and/or offending, Lacie would usually escape her tower—which he still hadn't found— and hide from the immediate area. The next escape after the last was always farther outside; the last time she had run, she had already escaped to the Eastern district. And knowing her, she probably would go to the Southern District this time. The Southern District, according to the Baskerville patrols there was like a labyrinth— only reports since he'd never been there before. The streets were never apparent and navigating it was a nightmare, unless you happened to be Lacie of course. She was like a well oiled machine when it came to finding where to go and how to go home and no one can fault her for that. Just the running away part.
"I had been... thoughtless with my choice of words this morning. I hardly remember what I even said as I was half asleep."
"Ah-ah. What an irresponsible elder brother!" Revis said in fake distress. "Are we going to scour the village for her? After all, the elders are going to throw a fit when they find out we lost the 'child of misfortune' again, whether I'm Glen nor not."
"Scour is too mild a word." Oswald said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Lacie has already hid in the Northern, Eastern and Western Districts. There is only one left that she would hide in—unless she decides to repeat, which in and of itself is highly unlikely."
Then the implications hit Revis. "Oh dear."
"Yes." The black haired teen deadpanned.
"We could always ask the natives..." Revis said weakly. Oswald looked at him like he grew another head.
"Okay, okay. Our situation with the Southern Districts' inhabitants isn't that bad..." Revis said off-handedly. "It's... past worse, actually." He continued cheerfully. Oswald ignored him.
"Lacie had always been hard to find. The place only serves to make it much harder."
"You aren't cute at all." He said with a noticeable pout. He really, really hated Revis's childishness. "We won't find her if we don't start, though."
"We might as well. Lead the way, Glen-sama."
"How many searchers this time?"
"Your call."
"Really?" Revis asked in a giddy tone.
"...I believe I've answered incorrectly. Twelve at most." Oswald sighed at his antics. If he had actually let Revis do what he wanted, he would've probably mobilized every single available and able person in the estate. He was very 'impulsive', but there were times where he drops the stupid mask and duty comes before his childishness... unfortunately few and far in between. Oswald knew that Revis hid his true self under a façade—which was his infuriating immaturity. It was irking that he had his guard up even in the company of friends. The real Revis was cynical, lazy, cunning, narcissistic and 'a true bastard' as Fang had so aptly described.
"As you wish~!"
"Sometimes I really wonder who's older than who..."
"Living your life like a child is fulfilling! You should try it too! You're much too mannerly for such a young age!" Revis said merrily. Oswald nearly tittered. His act was so infuriatingly convincing that he wanted to hurl.
"...I'd rather not grace that with an answer." Oswald said flatly.
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They had left an hour and a half after that conversation and it was quite an amusing sight to see Revis-sama so panicked— it was undoubtedly feigned since he could catch amused grins sent towards the baffled servants seeing their Family Head act in such an inelegant manner (but even if it was an act, Oswald found it very hilarious). It was probably because Revis-sama knew how much of a political nightmare this would inspire if let free for a long enough period of time so he would cause a ruckus so probably the attention was put to him instead of the missing Lacie (You can never be sure with him). Abyss only knows how much trouble Lacie brings to the current head whether she knows it or not. It was quite relieving to see that he wasn't the only one inconvenienced by this.
They went to the center of the whole Sabrie, and as per usual, it was bustling with activity. The morning was easy to appreciate, the temperatures had already started to rise but the snow was still bound to fall since it hasn't reached the point where it was to start defrosting. There was a toasty smell in the air that was probably something from a bakeshop they passed by while ago. The lighting was still somewhat dim, the sun having only risen mere minutes ago. The sky was clear, only with several layers of wispy clouds that covered most of the visible sky from his vantage point of view but cotton-like clouds sashayed through the sky, promising wild winds later in the day. The rays of the sun were dancing playfully upon the stone crusted buildings and dusty pavement, illuminating the surroundings softly and making the sight sweet to the eyes. The scenery was beautiful.
The only problem was that people stared— it couldn't be helped since Revis-sama refused to discard their flashy red overcoats— and when he sent them an appraising glance, they looked away. He felt the awe that washed over them, the admiring stares of the people made him want to shrink. There was nothing remarkable about being a noble. This filthy world of nobles wasn't anything to be envied. From afar it may seem like the nobles had all the benefits, prestige and wealth; but living in this pretentious world was like treading on eggshells, drowning in greed and in sleeping under the blankets of deceit. Fear always wasn't that far behind awe. And fear—if uncorrected and undisproved—leads to hate. Hatred was being tossed around unsparingly and he hated it. Revis had always said that his eyes could pierce through people's souls. That was hardly correct. If his eyes could pierce souls, then why couldn't he read Lacie? That would be an ability that would be most convenient.
"So how are we going to go with this?" One of the cloaked servants asked, pulling him out of his musings.
"We're going to look for Lacie, what else?" Revis asked surreptitiously, his eyes twinkling so slightly.
"I mean we are going to the Southern District. It's... hard enough to patrol it with fixed routes..."
"I know!" Revis said ardently. The searcher blinked. "We're going to be looking for a girl— a single girl— in that part of Sabrie?" The searcher said incredulously.
"Yes."
"Even you, Oswald-sama?"
"My sister is the one missing." He stated sharply, making the searcher flinch.
"Ah-ah. No need to get all snappy, Little Oswald." Revis said amusedly, idly noting that the searcher had relaxed slightly.
Oswald sent him a withering glare. "I'm pretty sure you're enjoying yourself, but I'd rather not deal with this idiocy right now."
"It took us half a week to find Lacie in the East. How do you think we'd be able to find him in the South?" The searcher said incredulously, preferring to forget the recent altercation.
"You've been saying South this, South that ever since we've started walking to the Central Plaza. What's wrong with that place?" Revis asked showing the slightest of curiosity. The hesitance was somehow apparent but not answering a question asked by the Head was tantamount to suicide, and it seemed that the searcher realized it as well and decided that whatever that was wasn't as bad as death by the hands of their sadistic master.
"...Our unit lost all our held cash the last time we patrolled there… and we only noticed after we got smashed and nearly got kicked out and banned from the pub if not for Panne's bills in his shoes."
"You got mugged?" Another searcher laughed.
"It's not funny!" The first said indignantly.
"I have to admit, having rigorously trained Baskerville guards robbed blind by a Southerner is quite funny."
"Revis-sama!"
"Though I don't doubt our men's ability, I think we need to up the ante of our training." The searchers paled at the head's statement. The training regimen would kill them! They didn't want to die that early! "Though you seem to disagree…"
"Don't let your guard down."
"You make it seem like they stand a chance, Oswald-sama."
"You're never too sure." He said flatly. His eyes swept over the Plaza and found nothing quite unusual.
They stopped by the town square to confirm where they were going to meet up after their search. They split up and started searching; and much to their chagrin, they got lost within minutes of going through the division of the town square and the Southern District.
The Baskerville patrols were right when they said anyone could get lost when they weren't natives. There were streets in between buildings and stairs were prominent features winding and forking in the most inconvenient times. In some circumstance, the only way through a particularly disorderly rubble was a catwalk and several ropes that were knotted in a way that it would serve as a bridge. Houses were stacked up upon each other, creating paths on top of buildings, sometimes even horizontal ladders that lead nowhere, several alleyways that only served to make them even more lost. The spaces on the upside of town had places for hanging laundry and some were still dripping with water that Oswald was unsure of its origins. He noted with distaste as he wiped off a droplet off his arm. The place was too bland, no newly painted anything at all. The visibility of the surroundings was like going through caves with only a matchstick as their guide. They had to walk carefully in order to not step on trash that would probably stock to their shoes for the rest of the day. Even the sky was hardly visible with all the crowdedness the houses—shacks, really— exhibited. A few turns along the alleys, and they were lost again. That happened for exactly nineteen — nineteen!— times during the short hour they traversed the South. Oswald was good at directions and rarely got lost even if he had never been to that place before, but this was pushing it. They had come across several people who mindlessly walked and still found their way to wherever they were going. It was infuriating.
It didn't help matters that people stared at them like they were fairies with particularly glittery wings. Oswald sighed. Where did that come from? Maybe he was just tired. That's probably the reason. "Why don't we go back to the plaza? It's already been an hour and this is obviously useless if we're only getting lost. Why did you come with us again?"
"I'm escaping from budget signings. I— "
Revis paused mid sentence—briefly confusing Oswald— and smiled widely, pivoting with a grace that few could hope to achieve and grasping the wrist of a kid. A teen really, around his age. The thief wore an expression of shock, his jaws slack in surprise.
"Stealing is bad you know!" Revis chastised, frowning mock sternly. "Why, I could have lost my wallet!" He continued in mock indignation.
The kid had managed to school his features— how does he learn this?— and pretend that he wasn't actually trying to steal anything, but noticeable beads of sweat were rolling down his forehead.
"You're scarring him, Glen-sama." Oswald said flatly.
"Sorry, sorry." He laughed unrepentantly. Revis then whispered something to the ear of the boy— whom he noticed was getting paler by the second— and sent off the obviously traumatized little boy with a merry wave. The boy dashed as if his life depended on it.
"What was it this time?" Oswald asked, curious despite of himself.
"Oh nothing." Revis said cheekily. "I just introduced myself. Why do people do that when they learn of my name?" He asked in feigned wonder.
Oswald just shook his head in exasperation. Who wouldn't be traumatized if you had attempted to rob one of the Four Great Dukedoms' family head?
Deciding to search for another hour, that certain scene happened more than enough times to both of them, much to his frustration. And of course, we can't forget Revis's amusement out of this whole ordeal. And there was a knowing glint in Revis' eyes that said that
They had come back to the Plaza, — with a well appreciated help from Jabberwocky, without the winged chain, they probably would still have been lost— when Revis asked him something unusual.
"Oswald? I have a suggestion."
Oswald merely raised an eyebrow.
"How about we try looking for people who could withstand your gaze? And ask them to help?"
"Why don't we just use our chains then?"
"Do you really think releasing them in broad daylight is a good idea?"
"It isn't." He sighed. "However, I haven't come across someone who can in the fifteen years of my life. Not even you when you first met me." He continued dully, staring at Revis. And huffed when said person shrugged, having long been used to his piercing eyes.
"I'm serious, Oswald. I... have a feeling you will." Revis said in cryptic way that made Oswald want to strangle him. He wouldn't do it of course, he respected the man to actually do it.
"Just here." The ravenette said in compromise, and turned to 'glare' at people.
"I don't think doing such a thing would actually result to something productive." His eyes had just swept each staring person slowly but he couldn't find anything interesting. Nothing notable. Then Revis tapped his shoulder with a finger and pointed to a direction. He instinctively whipped his head there. Two dauntless emerald orbs stared back.
What...? What was… He had always been very adept at reading emotions from from those soul's windows, more so than anyone else, being gifted with the ability made him... what was the word?
Who is he?
"I told you so~!" A voice from his right sang. "Really, you doubted me?"
He just grunted, somehow put off by the fact that Revis was right.
"Have you actually forgotten that I'm very very—"
"Lucky?" Oswald said dryly.
"—wise? " Revis chuckled.
"Anyway, have you forgotten our objective?" Oswald looked at him.
"Don't worry. I haven't forgotten about your antisocial tendencies."
"I don't think that's possible to forget." Oswald said dryly.
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The people in red were an organized bunch, he had to admit. They weren't like the other factions he had seen before— who were running around like headless chickens by the way. The way each man looked at a certain direction and searched for threats was good. They also had an air of regality and exuded an aura of confidence. He had to guess they were guards of sorts. Jack knew that they were important somehow, but he couldn't remember why they were so. Red cloaks...? There was the Vessalius' green, Cipherstound's yellow, Rainsworth's light purple, Nightray's dark— nearly black— blue, The Baskerville's... oh. Oh.
He caught two amethyst orbs staring at him as if he did something wrong and nearly recoiled. He didn't know why, but he just had to not draw his eyes away. He had no idea why, but it seemed appropriate. Like if he did so, something bad would happen. He was a little too far to see anything clearly, but the owner of the eyes were definitely shocked there was also something that Jack had never seen before. Why was he shocked? That was… Then the gaze was broken.
The cloaked men resumed their discussion and Jack was more than ready to remove them out of his thoughts.
But then the smaller one moved to his direction.
Oh hell. Hell no!
Why was that Baskerville going near him? Maybe he just happened to go somewhere near his vicinity? Did he do something bad? Something that he wouldn't realize or remember until amends were nearly impossible?
He was getting nearer! Should he run? He didn't know if he could outrun them. He hadn't run in a long while, he'd probably lose his breath in the first ten minutes. Then he realized that he was outnumbered more than ten to one, and the Baskervilles weren't really considered immortal for no reason... He sighed defeatedly, letting the event take its course of action. And waited for it like a rope was around his neck, only waiting for the stool under him to be kicked while he was sent to his death.
"Hello, little kid! Why such a glum face?"
"Gah!" He exclaimed—albeit a bit of a late reaction. His head whipped backwards, seeing the white haired man smiling at him lightly, but that face was someone of who was scheming. And scheming was never good when Baskervilles were involved. Or at least that was what he had heard.
He looked back to crowd, where the man was where before. How did he move that fast?
"No need to be so nervous, kid."
Jack stepped backward and continued looking at him warily, taking in their positions. In front of him was the white haired man; behind him were his 'lackeys' and the other one around his age.
"We aren't going to hurt you or anything." The man said blithely. "We're just going to—"
"Stop it, Glen-sama. You're intimidating him." the smaller figure— just a little taller than him— said, moving a step nearer. Intimidating him? Of course they were! Were they blind?! Or did they have a different definition of the word?
"Ah-ah. Sorry, sorry." He said unrepentantly and somehow, at the corner of his mind, Jack had the feeling that this wasn't the first time this happened. "I'm Glen. He's Oswald. As you can see, we're from the Baskerville house." 'Glen' said cheerfully. "Yours?"
Jack blinked uneasily. His… name? The white haired man— Glen— looked at him expectantly. The way that their conversation started was… odd. He should've refused, but he was curious as to why he was approached. The best course of action was to talk.
"J-Jack." He replied hesitantly.
"Jack? What a plain name!"
Revis entwined his fingers in front of him in mischief.
"Ne, little Jack." Revis asked, that kind of face had never resulted to anything not humiliating for Jack. He saw Oswald rolling his eyes."Where are you from?"
"Why are you asking me… that?" He asked a little off balanced. Glen was an important name too. How come he couldn't remember?
"Wrong approach, Glen-sama." Oswald commented.
...sama? Was he that significant?
"Oh. Right. We're looking for someone and we heard that she's hiding out in the Southern District. We don't know the way around, so..."
"Why ask me for help? You could have asked someone else." He asked, disregarding the fact that he could die if he even treaded a bit on the offensive language.
"That's true, but none of them are willing to help out Baskervilles, given our reputation in this part of town."
"I... can." He decided unsurely. "I live somewhere in that District."
"We're looking for someone who wants to hide, and I don't know this area like you natives apparently do."
Jack frowned. "With your red coats? Are you asking to be robbed?" He asked incredulously. Oswald sent Revis an 'I-told-you-so' look.
"Can we ask for information?" Jack nodded.
"This district is not very orderly as you might have already gathered. We work upon the system that… anyone can interfere with anything from bullies to thieves to murderers and no one even bats an eye. There are kids whose hobbies are to mislead and make people lose their way, causing great… distress to the districts' visitors. Especially nobles."
"Hobbies?" Oswald asked with wide eyes, noting with slight apprehension, if Jack read it correctly. Felice had been teaching him how to do so as of late.
"Yes. Stealing and making people lose their way." He mumbled the last past under his breath. "It's a miracle none of you have lost so completely like others."
The Baskervilles still heard it. Jack heard something from Oswald about not trusting him but Glen gave him a warning stare.
"What does he look like?"
They hesitated, but Glen replied musingly. "A 'she' actually. Her name is Lacie, long black hair and red eyes. she's around an inch or two smaller than Oswald."
"I'll help. Though if you don't want any incidents, I highly suggest you put on brown overcoats instead. However, if you're that confident in your ability to ward off the thieves, you may choose not to. Of course, it wouldn't be my problem anymore."
"A little too late, though. We've already been through several attempted thieveries." Glen said, his eyes lighted with mischief.
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"Owner-san!" Jack called as he disappeared into a dimly lit pub. Oswald took the chance to talk to Revis.
"Are you sure we can trust him?"
"Nope!" He chirped. "Definitely not."
"They why..."
"Well, he seems willing to help. We could always kill him if he were to become too much trouble."
"Kill him?" Oswald asked, surprised.
"Nah, of course not. I don't think one of our minions would be happy about it."
"Minion? Which one?"
"A rich one."
The 'rich minions' meant— as Revis had so eloquently put it— were the nobles that belonged to an association that managed the whole Country with the Dukes just below the king (who in turn says what the four dukes or duchesses' major decisions should be. Oswald had never met the King, so he could only speculate.) Sabrie was divided in four parts, each with respect to the four directions, each with a reigning family except The South. The largest was the Northern District, spanning almost a third of the whole city where the nobles of the area lived in. The East and the West span two ninths and one ninths respectively, being the trading areas. The Southern District slums which is the ones left has a third as well.
"If he is a child of one of your 'minions', then I doubt the validity of that statement." He looked to where Jack was talking to a gruff looking man. "We found him in the streets and I don't think that he would claim his title seeing as he hasn't already and looks like he's already fifteen if not older. Most nobles with illegitimate children would rather dispose of them."
"Which family do you think he belongs to?" Revis asked him casually.
"I don't know." Oswald said obtusely.
"Aww... Don't be a wet blanket. Not even a guess?"
"You already know, don't you?" He said dismissively.
"Of course! Not for sure though, since his father's other children bear none of his characteristics."
"...none?" Oswald said, trying to hide his curiosity.
"Yes." Revis chirped "It seems that the woman he officially married has a much dominant— however unfavorable— set of genes. The eldest is a beautiful and sociable but dull-witted lady. The second is intelligent but socially awkward. And he doesn't seem keen on having more heirs."
"...there is only one family with that much... unfortunately bred heirs— Fang had told me that once or twice."
"You've been spending way too much time with Fang recently, are you sure you still aren't corrupted by his always by the rules attitude?" Revis commented lightly.
"What's wrong with that?" Oswald gritted out and breathed slowly to calm himself. "The Vessalius?"
Revis nodded.
"How did you notice?" Oswald said quietly, his eyes turning critical of the blonde's features.
"Ah-ah, it's very easy! Just look at him, he looks remarkably like his father— I have met him once or twice." Revis smiled briefly as he pointedly glanced at the Vessalius. "I don't like him very much." He added distastefully.
"At social meetings? Gatherings?"
"If you could call it that, then yes. He isn't very remarkable, but I have to admit, that man... is too occupied with his duties. To the point of neglect actually."
At this point, Revis had stopped had stopped talking and eyed the friendly talk Jack was having with the pub owner. The conversation lasted a whole of two minutes and Jack had come back, his expression flat.
"It seems she age here a while ago. Around five or six in the morning." He intoned. "It's around eleven or ten o'clock right now. Five hours is a lot of time to hide."
Oswald raised an eyebrow.
"Of course we know that."
"Any ideas as to where she would hide?"
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The day was interesting for a lack of a better adjective. The search started out simple, with Jack leading them around the district. The streets had surprisingly been actually visible— the other ways were actually just pranks from the kids around— who he actually didn't notice until Jack had called them.
"I know you've been following us. Come out."
Jack had sighed with apparent annoyance then barked out a request—or command if you looked at it that way. The kids had appeared—there were dozens!— and they had lined up neatly in front of Jack, each of them shifting guiltily. Oswald saw Revis smile in respect to the blonde's authoritative voice. They had moved farther away, but Oswald could still hear them. Revis hadn't seemed at all surprised and it looked like he actually looked like he knew that they were being tailed and mislead. It annoyed Oswald greatly.
"How many, Hansel?" Jack asked flatly, his stare boring holes into the children's skulls. His gaze was focused specifically on the tallest, a typical hazel eyed, brown haired kid, around eleven our twelve years old.
"T-two..."
"The truth, Hansel."
"T-twenty..."
Jack just stared at him and decided otherwise. He then approached a freckled little girl—the smallest of the lot and kneeled to be at the same eye level as her and asked, smiling softly.
"Mabel? How many?"
"Mabel! Don't—"
"Seventy-six this week!" She said proudly. Oswald noted that Mabel didn't even know they were being scolded.
"Mabel!" Hansel sent her a betrayed look but was cut off by a glare.
"Seventy six? Seventy-six travelers that got lost in this district…This is the reason why this place has such a notorious reputation… " Jack sighed as he dusted his knees and stood up. The kids were the reason people got lost? And no one even suspected anything? "You don't have to lie. June hates liars doesn't she?" He said as he looked at Hansel. June? He'd heard that name somewhere before. Maybe he'd ask Revis later.
Hansel turned beet red, gaining snickers from his fellow children.
"I don't approve of you misleading travelers. Especially when I'm escorting them around. Why do you have Aron as your role model anyway? June loathes him."
"Lady June doesn't have anything to do with it!" Hansel screamed.
"Of course she doesn't." Jack said off-handedly, reminiscent of the way Revis ignored and dismissed Oswald oh so frequently. "Just because you have a crush on her—"
"I do NOT have a crush on Lady June!"
"—doesn't mean you should try to get her to scold you. You are a masochist, aren't you, you little brat?" Jack chaffed lightly, ruffling the kid's already tousled brown hair to an even messier nest.
Hansel turned even redder, but several hands on his shoulders held him back. Placations—many, many placations that Oswald was too far to hear— from his companions were all it took before he finally calmed down. "Fine! We'll leave you alone!" He grudgingly relented, glaring daggers at Jack the whole time. "But I won't forget this, you asshole!"
"Is that what you call someone you begged to be your leader before?" He asked with an amused smile.
"I thought we'd never talk about that ever again!?"
"I never agreed to it." He added wittily, his smile widening.
The children the dissipated, and Oswald lost sight of them after that.
"Does that happen often?" Revis asked as he dropped from his perch, his (now brown) coat billowing in the air, making flapping sounds akin to a bird about to take flight. It was Revis in every way. Oswald quietly snorted. Such flamboyance was what you would expect of him, of course anything less would be unforgivable— Revis's words, not Oswald's.
"Thankfully not." Jack said morosely. "If it did, I'm afraid I'll have lost my sanity before I even finish my teenage years." Revis snickered. He liked this kid!
The search became exponentially easier then—though they would probably still get lost without Jack. They asked around—it was mostly Jack who asked since a lot of people were still wary of them, but followed more than enough dead ends and false leads, the searchers had refused to split up, fearing that they might get lost, earning a grumble from Jack. "I'm not a babysitter."
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They had met again the day after that. Only this time, Glen wasn't with Oswald. He didn't think that they would actually come back, but it seemed the person they were looking for was important to said teen. Jack had debated whether or not to actually show up, but he had somewhat enjoyed the rambunctious company that the Baskervilles provided and decided that he would. The searchers had been reduced to a mere four— not including Oswald. Not that he was complaining.
The search was surprisingly peaceful, and with thanks to the absence of Glen, everyone was quieter and less likelier to draw attention.
There was another thing that his attention had been drawing, however. He'd already made up his mind that he would somehow rise up society, but he hardly had any idea on where to start and what to actually do after that. Was he just going to go to the Vesalius estate and beg for them to take them in? Or would he have to go through a fair number of paperwork to do so? He really hoped not. His reading had improved exponentially, but he still read excruciatingly slowly (he could only read the newspaper within two whole hours) Would he have to be granted an audience? June hadn't visited after the funeral and he had no one to ask. Felice and Aron were no help in that matter. And Dia still hadn't visited.
"Oswald?" Jack asked quietly as they exited another pub.
"Hm?" Oswald replied absently.
"Do... you know how—" He paused, considering telling something that was very personal and shook his head, deciding against it." N-Nevermind."
Oswald raised a questioning eyebrow but didn't pry. Why would he take interest in it? But it was the first time that Jack actually addressed him directly and he had to admit he was more than just a little curious. Politesse that was forced into him said otherwise. Then he felt it. There something familiar that made the atmosphere heavier. There was resonance with the abyss... Lacie was using her chain! The searchers jumped up, and hurriedly ran eastward. They had sensed it as well.
"What happened?" Jack asked confusedly.
"We've found her. Are you coming with us?" Oswald asked in an uncharacteristic rush.
"You have?" Jack blinked. "Then what are you waiting for?" Silently saying 'no' and urging him to leave already.
"Thank you for your help."
Oswald nodded gratefully and ran towards the edge of the district, entering a grandly decorated carriage. Jack snorted quietly. Really wasteful.
He stayed for a while looking at where they had just been and nodded to himself. They had add been awfully chatty during their brief cooperation and he knew plenty of the Baskervilles daily happenings. They weren't very professional when Glen wasn't around. He would most definitely miss the loudness soon, but he was contented with the silence now. At least he didn't have to babysit anyone more than twice his age anymore.
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This took longer than I expected it to be, actually. Haha. Anyway, here's the next chapter.
Leave a review? They inspire me to write more. :))