hiya peoples! here is chapter 3 a good few hundred words longer than previous ones :) I decided to go with the pub idea so...yeah. there is a lot of reference to Erza's childhood in this chappie...

Guest: I assume that's a combination of Cool and Continue? well thank you and so I shall :3

Darkwarrior1010: thank you sooo much for leaving a review like that - I really appreciate that you care enough to tell me how I can get better at my writing and what you do like about it. I have taken your advice and mentioned a few thinks about how Mystollal has changed and I will try to find space to squeeze in some more points later. as for chapter length...well, I tend to write 'James Patterson' chapters and rarely make any chapter over 2000 words unless it is a oneshot. long chapters just aren't my style probably because of my short attention span but as I mentioned, this chapter is longer at almost 1500 words.

anyway, plz enjoy and plz review!

Chapter 3

Erza yawned and stretched her legs as she stepped off the train – three hours sitting next to Mystogan and across from an old couple had not been an enjoyable experience; the old woman had babbled on for what seemed like a lot more than three hours, and she hadn't known anything about Porlyusica either. Her husband, who Erza now knew was named Frank Dougherty, had hazel eyes, liked clocks, disliked rats, and could play thirteen different instruments including one from a faraway country called a didgeridoo, had spent his ride leaned against the window and snoring so loud that Erza had to restrain herself from performing one of her more complicated Judo moves to shut him up.

Mystogan ran his hands through his blue hair, which, if Erza remembered correctly, had been a shade lighter at age six.

"So, where to?" the prince asked, looking down at Erza – he'd also shot up like a weed while Erza had yet to hit her final growth spurt.

"Beggars." She answered automatically, "Beggars know everything that goes on in a town – they never miss anything."

The look on Mystogan's face was thoughtful as he nodded slowly, and his thoughts were carried plainly in his expression, whether intentionally or not.

This is your area of expertise. He seemed to be saying. It was true, after all; what did Mystogan know about the homeless? Next to nothing. Erza…well, it didn't need to be said…

"We should be frugal with our money." She decided, taking the lead as they exited the train station. "First, we need to find somewhere to sleep for tonight. Preferably somewhere cheap. While we're at it, we can hit the pubs."

"Hit…the pubs?" Mystogan asked uncertainly, "I…I don't drink."

"Not for beer, dumbass – for information!" Erza snapped, "Pubs are where all the greasy scumbags hang out. And the greasy scumbags are the ones who know everything!" Honestly, was he really that clueless?

"…Oh."

Maybe was just playing dumb again. If he was, she couldn't tell.

"Here." Erza hissed as they entered what could be described as the 'slum' of Brunswick. She grabbed Mystogan by the cloak and dragged him into the first such pub she saw. Even though it was only noon, the pub as still loud, boisterous, and crowded. Erza started to let go of Mystogan's cloak but he grabbed her wrist. She reflexively jerked away but his hold was strong.

"We're gonna get lost in here if we don't stick together." He explained, pulling her through the crowd. Erza scowled but allowed him to, stopping at the bar.

"What c'n I get fer ya'll two?" the barmaid asked, swaying a little. She'd obviously had more than a few too many beers.

"Do you guys rent rooms?" Erza asked with a sigh.

"'Course. We's got one vacant a' the moment. That'll do?" the barmaid slurred.

"We'll take it." Erza replied, siding some coins over the counter which the barmaid took, slipping them into her pocket, which she patted, as if to make sure the coins were still there.

"Ah, but it's only one–" Mystogan started. Erza silenced him with a glare.

"You might have grown up spoiled in a castle." She snarled fiercely, "But when you're pretending to be a commoner, you live like a commoner, got it?" a sudden surge of resentment for Mystogan's easy life rushed through Erza. He opened his mouth to reply, then thought better of it and closed it again.

At some point, the barmaid had sidled over to their side of the counter and now wriggled her way in between the two, running her hands up Mystogan's chest and virtually hanging off his neck. He stepped back in surprise and leaned away to no avail; the barmaid still clung to him.

"Y'know…if yer interst'd in partin' with any more 'dose coins, my shift ends at 'leven."

"Ah, um, n-no that's not – I don't –" Mystogan spluttered, taking moment to comprehend what she was implying. A well-placed punch from Erza caused the barmaid to crumple to the ground and she blacked out, the alcohol finally taking over.

"That," Erza sniffed, nudging the unconscious whore with her boot, "Is the worst kind of commoner."

"Thanks…" Mystogan muttered as he reached over the counter for their room key – the only one left on the wall. They made their way to the back of the pub where Erza spotted a shady-looking man; the perfect candidate.

"Hey." She said to announce her presence, sitting down across from the man. Mystogan took the seat beside her as the man looked up from under his hood.

"Whaddya dogs want?"

"Information." Erza replied.

"Information comes atta cost, li'l slumdog." The man answered pointedly.

"Hey, don't call her that!" Mystogan responded indignantly, starting to rise to his feet before Erza put a hand on his arm. Mystogan fell into a sullen silence as Erza and the man began their negotiation, Erza sliding a single coin over the table which immediately disappeared into the folds of the man's cloak.

"More'n that, slumdog."

Again, Mystogan tensed up but Erza shot him a look which shut him up. It took three more coins before the man was satisfied enough to uphold his part.

"Whaddya need to know?"

"What do you know about a healer named Porlyusica?" Erza asked, leaning her elbows on the table. The man thought for a moment, then shrugged.

"I've heard th' name in passing." He replied noncommittally, "She's a wand'rer; just hops from place to place. No real home, y'know?"

"Did you hear where she was last seen?" Erza asked urgently. The man just grinned, displaying browning, rotten teeth. She suppressed the urge to shudder in revulsion; she'd been lucky enough in her childhood that the only teeth she'd lost had been baby teeth. This man was obviously on the other end of the dental spectrum.

"'Nother question equals 'nother coin." He held out his hand and Erza dropped a coin into it, trying not to touch him directly.

"Last I heard she's in Fently."

"Where's that?" Mystogan asked coldly, still miffed about the man's nickname for Erza.

"West. Week's walk at best."

"And on a train?" that was what came out of Mystogan's mouth, but the implication was: We can actually afford to take the train, unlike you.

Erza couldn't help her disapproving frown as she read the undertones in his words.

"Ain't no trains go out there. Fently's even tinier than this town. Closest ya can get is Jacksonville, and it's stilla coupla days to Fently." The man answered, either not catching or not caring about Mystogan's superior tone.

"Thank you." Erza stood up, Mystogan following her lead. "You've been very helpful."

"I know who ye are."

"What?" Erza asked with a frown, turning back to the man.

"Not you, slumdog. I know the prince." He grinned, nodding to Mystogan, who looked down in surprise.

"I know it's useless to ask if someone is willing to pay for it," Erza sighed, "But we'd appreciate if you'd not alert the whole world to our presence."

"Much obliged, slumdog." He grinned. Erza couldn't tell if he was joking or not, so she just walked away, dragging Mystogan behind her.

"That was ridiculous!" Mystogan glared after they were out of sight, "We were supposed to be frugal remember! That was a waste of five coins!"

Erza tightened her lips. To be honest, she agreed but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. "We got good information." Was her only reply before she turned away, needing to get out of the pub as the clamor was starting to give her a migraine.

Out in the open air, Erza could breathe freely again, leaning against the cool brick wall.

"Why'd I get stuck on this mission with you?" she griped to Mystogan, who had followed her out. There was that smirk again.

"Well, if I didn't know better I'd think you were starting to warm up to me."

"What in Edolas gave you that idea?!" Erza snapped. She dropped to the ground, suddenly devoid of energy, hugging her knees to her chest as she had in her room earlier that morning. Had it really only been a few hours since they left? It felt like an eternity.

"Homesick?" Mystogan asked, following her thoughts. It was just curiosity that filled his voice, nothing else. Erza turned her face away without answering.

"Jellal, the prince of Edolas, and Erza Knightwaker, the youngest Captain of a Division of the Royal Army ever at seventeen." He went on, sitting down beside her.

"Sixteen." She corrected. She'd become Captain when she was sixteen – two years ago.

"Sixteen." Mystogan agreed. "You and me are supposed to stop the power draining from this country.

"And it all rests on one person." Erza added. Mystogan nodded.

"Porlyusica."

in retrospect, maybe there was a little too much reference to erza's childhood... :P

anyway, hope u liked!

~ice