He took a mostly disused passage out of the palace and eventually found himself on the lower canal side of the seventh hill. The canals brought fresh river water in and out of the city. Once he'd been lifted beyond The Troughs, Jellal was easily romanced by the cement barriers and dim yellow lamps of the canal streets. It was both modern and endearingly quaint. The choice to revisit the area wasn't simple nostalgia, though. These streets were the quickest route to the second hill – home of the assassins guilds. Of all the hills in Crocus, this one he'd felt most resembled a home. Jellal's feet still found their way to Crime Sorciere's doors with little guidance from his eyes.

Crime Sorciere stood on the palace side of the hill somewhere in the middle between crest and trough. Her walls were of modest grey brick and the wooden doors were still bolted together with the same brass fittings he remembered. Under any other circumstance, Jellal would've appreciated the lack of change. He glanced up at the corner tower and confirmed a pair of eyes watching him. That tower had been his once upon a time.

As he approached the doors, Ultear slithered from the shadows. Her midnight hair caught the moonlight and she watched him closely.

"I see you survived your visit with Her Majesty. Or does your garb hide the scars of disembowelment?"

"I survived," he said dryly. Ultear leaned back against the outer wall beside the doors. "Do you have work tonight?"

"Nothing I don't mind ditching."

"I need provisions."

She smirked. "If that's your way of ingratiating yourself to me –"

Jellal snorted derisively. "I wouldn't proposition you if my life depended on it," he quipped. "It's been a long day, Ultear. I need clothes."

"I can help with that but it'll cost you."

Jellal set his mouth in a grim line and waited. Ultear was tedious. Unlike the Queen she liked her games.

"I want to know what's going on."

"Clothes first."

"Fair enough," she said with a nod and shrug. Ultear shoved off the wall and began to make her way back down the street away from Crime Sorciere. The second hill, despite its bloody business, didn't actually house Crocus's darkest corners and shadows – that was reserved for the fourth and third hills. Magic and pleasures of the flesh often brushed against one another in ways that most people wouldn't dare to contemplate.

On the second hill, class wasn't easily defined or visible. Ultear was a perfect example of a book's cover not belying its pages. Her mother had been a rather high-ranking mage. She'd held the title of Wizard Saint until her untimely death when Ultear was still too young to care for herself. They'd both found Crime Sorciere at the tender age of nine. Once she'd proved herself a competent assassin, she no longer needed the mountain of gold her mother left behind. She regularly commanded a sum that would put most assassins on her level to shame but still chose to live below mid-hill. She didn't want too much attention. Ultear reveled in ambiguity. Jellal hadn't ever asked where she squirreled away her fortune.

Ultear occupied a flat on the top floor of a defunct guildhall. Ultear had always preferred old things. Not the things she'd shriveled and destroyed herself, but things that were already old. Things near crumbling. Inside the flat was a mess Jellal expected. Expensive clothes were draped on nearly every surface. Any assassin worth their salt could creep down a hallway and take a life but Ultear loved the chase. She liked to convolute things and seduce and draw a person's darkest secrets from their lips before spilling their blood. The scraps of glittering fabrics and silks proved she hadn't changed much.

"Still messy as ever," he remarked once the door was shut behind him. "I don't know how you can find anything under all this."

Ultear laughed high and light. This was real. "We can't all be ascetics."

"I'm not an ascetic," he muttered.

"You should be thanking me," she said, shedding her cloak and the shirt beneath it on her way to her bedroom.

"And why's that?"

"Because," Ultear called back at him. "I have exactly what you need." When she reemerged, she'd changed into something tight and black that covered her from neck to foot. Her boots nearly came up to her knees and the two knives strapped to her thigh were as sleek as they were deadly. In her hands was a cloak he recognized.

"Where did you manage to dig this up?" he asked with a grin. Ultear held it toward him.

"I knew you'd be back." She smiled as he shook out the cloak and ran his fingers over the blue wool with its silver piping. Not all of Crime Sorciere's members were awarded such finery. Like Ultear, Jellal was a capable assassin. "I've got other things that should fit you, too. I left them out on my bed. Go change and then you can spill your guts."

"Thank you, Ultear," Jellal said with sincerity. Her bedroom was just as disheveled as the sitting room. Jellal tried not to touch too many of her things and left the last of his quiet mountain life in a pile on the floor.

When he rejoined her, the smell of food drew a rumble from his stomach. Ultear breezed past him and deposited two bowls of noodles on her dining table.

"There's a vendor just above The Troughs on the first hill who makes these from scratch," she said, taking a seat and poking at the noodles. Jellal fell into the chair opposite her. "He's underselling them."

The flavor of the broth overwhelmed him. "We don't have food this rich in the mountains."

Ultear said nothing more and they ate in silence. When her bowl was empty, she pushed it away and folded her arms on the table in front of her. Jellal sighed.

"The Princess is missing," he finally said.

"Well, stop the presses," Ultear deadpanned. "I had no idea."

"Tell me about the God Slayers."

Ultear quirked an eyebrow. "They're a new guild on the fourth hill," she said slowly. "Pretty low to The Troughs for what they claim to be capable of."

"Only if you assume them to be after prestige."

"That's true," Ultear nodded. "Except they're ostentatious about their magic. About a month before the Princess went missing they put on quite the show."

"The Queen mentioned it."

"Did she tell you the sky went black and it felt like we could all taste the stars?"

"Something like that."

"Jellal," she demanded. "Tell me what's going on."

"One of the Spriggan Guards is being watched."

"Let me guess," Ultear said knowingly. "Dimaria? She and the Princess had a bit of a throw down this summer."

"The Queen doesn't trust her."

"Shocking."

"I don't trust her. There's something about her that's not quite right."

Ultear shrugged. "She's a loose canon."

"Why's she a Spriggan, then?"

"Because she's powerful, I guess. The crown isn't exactly forthcoming when it comes to how they select the guard."

"I'm told Brandish is watching her."

"Is that so?" Ultear asked airily.

"You knew?"

"I know a lot of things, Jellal."

Jellal sighed loudly and Ultear rolled her eyes.

"You're no fun anymore. Yes, I know Brandish is on Dimaria's tail. Brandish and I have a standing appointment, plus she follows her everywhere. They're extremely visible."

"You're shameless," Jellal admonished.

"Whatever. Look, Brandish isn't a fool. If she's watching Dimaria, whatever she's hiding will come out eventually. Brandish is bored but observant and loyal."

"Do you trust her?"

"Not really. She's a Spriggan Guard. Her interests aren't the same as mine. As you well know, Jellal, not all my work is above board. I try to keep our meetings on point."

Jellal waved his hand dismissively. "The Queen thinks the God Slayers have something to do with Erza's disappearance."

When Ultear didn't respond right away, Jellal glanced up. He found her smile had stretched and sharpened.

"Is it still Erza?" she asked quietly.

"I want you to help me with this," Jellal hedged. "I can bring in whoever I want. Do you trust Meredy and Erik?"

"Erik is a stuffy ass but I trust him."

"Then why did we avoid the guild tonight?" Jellal swooped in with the question he'd been sitting on since she'd diverted him away from Crime Sorciere earlier that evening.

"Because the tide is coming in, Jellal," she said in a tone he didn't care for. "Things are changing. Meredy and Erik I trust with my life but there's others who would do better not to see you."

Jellal met her eyes squarely and he saw things that left him as cold as he'd been in the Queen's private hole behind the throne room.

"And why is that?"

"You know gossip is bought and sold in The Troughs." Ultear's stare burned a hole through him. "I've heard some things. Old things. New things. Lost things that were found and lost again. A whisper can be quite expensive."

"Ultear –"

"Not now," she hissed. "Not even here."

Jellal stared down at the broth that had long cooled and congealed in his bowl. "We need to go as soon as possible, then."

"Where to?" She stood and pulled an identical cloak to his from a surprisingly tidy closet.

"The fourth hill. I need to have a conversation with a dragon."

Jellal hadn't ever been a scholar of civics. He didn't know what the ratio of non-magical citizens was to mages. There wasn't discord over it as far as he could tell. Most often, mages provided a service that a person – non-magical or otherwise – was more than willing to pay for. There were some guilds, however, that held themselves above anyone else. Jellal suspected that despite their level on the fourth hill, the God Slayers were of the arrogant ilk.

One of the oldest magic guilds in the city was made up of a different type of slayer. Drgaons hadn't been seen for hundreds of years but the dragon slayers still wore their title proudly and held their secrets close. It was a point of national pride that Fiore hosted the only mages who could use dragon slaying magic on the continent of Ishgar. They were afforded a great deal of leniency when it came to regulations imposed on other guilds – this was largely due to the fact that a handful of dragon slayers hadn't been born with their abilities. These mages had been subjected to experiments and surgeries and implantations of government made lacrima. The Magic Council didn't like the concessions but rarely stepped on the toes of the cantankerous guild master Jellal very much wanted to see.

Laxus Dreyar's face was a study in discontent. The scar that cut across his eye and cheek gave him an intimidating visage Jellal knew was mostly bluster. Laxus wrangled an unruly crowd and probably had a calendar in his office with a countdown to retirement – not that he could actually retire, as there was no one to take his place. Fairy Tail, aptly named for the fact that there were no dragons to slay, was notoriously rowdy and destructive. Jellal wondered if Laxus would simply work until he fell over dead.

Fairy Tail's guildhall was brightly lit and held an air of legitimacy that simply didn't exist on the second hill. As they neared the building, Ultear disappeared into the shadows but Jellal hadn't the patience for sneaking. He walked through the front door without pretense. Jellal spotted Laxus's perpetually messy hair across the hall and no one stopped him from approaching.

"I see you're still wearing the most appalling furs," Jellal muttered, sliding onto a barstool and signaling the barkeep for a drink. "How is it not matted and filthy by now?"

"I should check your fingernails," Laxus growled. "I hear digging produce from that mountain soil can give a person worms." He glanced over at Jellal. "Or at the very least leave you looking like a peasant."

"It's good to know my personal business has made it to three out of the seven hills."

Laxus snorted into his cup. "After that ruckus you and the Princess caused, your absence was noted."

"Ruckus is a strong word."

Laxus spun around to face him fully and Jellal bit back a grin. "You crashed a masquerade ball to piss on Her Royal Highness the Princess of Fiore's leg for no reason other than it made your dick hard to do it."

"The folly of youth," Jellal said with a shrug.

"It was stupid," Laxus murmured, polishing off his ale. "She was never going going to marry that oaf of a duke. Her ill advised romance with an assassin who had the ear of the Queen wasn't a secret no matter what you told yourselves."

Jellal cringed. He was painfully aware of how his relationship with the Princess was the worst kept secret in the royal city and beyond. Not that he regretted any of it – even if the end result had been taking a holy vow and stealing himself away to a mountain for seven years.

"She's missing."

"Hold on, let me get some pearls so I can clutch them in surprise you've suddenly turned up just in time to swoop in and save her."

"Erza hasn't ever needed me to save her."

Laxus deflated. "That much is true."

"We need to have a chat."

"We're chatting now."

"Not what I meant."

Laxus radiated irritation and Jellal simply absorbed it. He finished his own ale slowly enough for Laxus to burn off the initial rage of seeing him again. The other man suddenly stood, stalked the length of the bar, and didn't glance back even once as he disappeared around the corner and into a hallway. Jellal left a tip for the barkeep on the bar and followed Laxus.

Fairy Tail was built in an age of architecture that was hard to come by now. Her hallways were vast and sprawling. The guildhall had a fine front but her belly burrowed deep into the hill. Laxus suddenly came to a halt and leaned against a wall. He fished a rolled cigarette from his shirt pocket and lit it with a practiced hand.

"What the fuck is going on?" Laxus demanded.

"Why does everyone assume I know? You're the second person to ask that of me today."

Laxus continued to eye him with open suspicion and Jellal dropped his front with a sigh.

"I'm looking into the God Slayers."

"Bunch of self inflated assholes," Laxus muttered. "They showed up here about a year ago and started poking around. Seemed to know a lot about how shit rolls for new comers, too."

"You think the guild is a front?"

"Yeah. They're way too familiar with the city."

"Maybe they've been skulking around The Troughs for years and finally decided to make honest mages of themselves."

Laxus quirked an eyebrow and blew out a lungful of smoke thoughtfully. "You think a guild that openly turns the sky black with magic we don't even home grow here is honest? I know you know better than that."

"About that," Jellal glanced back down the hallway and folded his arms across his chest. "What exactly happened?"

"Sometime this last summer they all got together and blacked out the sun." Laxus's eyebrows drew together. "Here's the fucking weird part, though. Their guild is tiny. I'm takin' maybe six people at most. Now, how the fuck do six people pull some shit like that? And why?"

Jellal's gaze fell to his feet. He could blacken the sky if he wanted. In truth, he hadn't ever really pushed his limits to find out what exactly he was capable of. He'd never needed to. Jellal decided to take a risk.

"I could."

"Come again?" Laxus demanded.

"I could do that." He glanced up to find, for the first time, Laxus's face etched with something that wasn't laced with frustration. "I could turn the sky black and make everybody think gravity was about to crush them." Jellal shrugged. "I'm pretty sure I could anyway."

"You've always been a strange duck, Jellal. You a God Slayer? Is that what you're saying?"

"No." Jellal blew out an irritated sigh. "And I don't think whatever they did that day was god slaying magic."

"About a month after they pulled that shit the Princess got into it with one of the Spriggan Guards. You hear about that?"

"Dimaria, yeah. I've heard she's a loose canon."

"She's something alright, I'm just not sure what."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Laxus shrugged and dropped the spent cigarette to the wood planked floor. He snubbed it out with the toe of his boot. "Mirajane will smell this shit a mile away. She'll flay me for smoking in a hallway with no ventilation."

"She hasn't figured out she can do better than you yet?"

Laxus's grin was sloppy but sharp. "Nope." He glanced back the way they'd come and stiffened. "Hey, why don't you take the back way out? There's a great view of the sky."

Laxus suddenly spun on his heel and left Jellal alone in the hallway. Jellal stared after him for a long moment before following the walls with the tips of his fingers searching for the grooves that would lead him outside.

After a brief, disorienting moment in pitch dark, Jellal found himself on the empty stretch of embankment that would curve upward around the hill to the higher levels. Jellal stood on the lip of the embankment and snorted. The view wasn't any better than it might be from the roof of Fairy Tail.

A rustle behind him caught his attention. Ultear grinned at him from the edge of a small hydrangea grove. When she stepped from the shadows a young girl followed behind her. She clutched a white cat with golden eyes against her chest and her face was a mask of fear.

"While you were steeping yourself in cheap tobacco and ale I ran into a little sky maiden," Ultear said softly. The girl glanced up at Ultear and back at Jellal. She couldn't have been more than twelve.

Jellal pursed his lips. View of the sky, indeed.