Big thanks to attack-on-spoon ( tumblr) for being an awesome beta/headcanon friend

João=Portugal
Chelles=Seychelles

I asked around tumblr for the names I used b/c I don't think either has an official name?

Next chapter has a masquerade ball and Ludwig things. And Prumano being dorks and attempting to flirt. Yakno. Ch 7 Update EST: 5/20/14, bug me if I miss that date.

Kayma was a village sprawled in the center of dried prairie several days journey from the ocean town they'd visited. By the time they reached its epicenter, the wind had died into a slight breeze that rustled grasses visible for miles. The air, rather than pure, was bogged with smoke, also visible in the distance. Taking great care, Antonio landed his ship just outside of town, but anchored it very securely to a large bolder placed for that purpose. He left it sitting at least ten feet in the air.

"…Why so high up?" Elizabeta asked. She slipped down the rope ladder like it was nothing.

Antonio landed beside her and took the group fifteen feet to where a stark border between charred ashes and fresh grass flowed like a lackadaisical scribble. "I don't want my ship catching fire and roasting."

"…What?" Gilbert asked, kneeling beside the line. Grass crumbled in his hand as soot.

Abel snorted. "The grass around here…produces certain oils that allow them to burn constantly. Depending on the strength and direction of the wind, flames travel around here. And because of the growth rate, new grass grows within a few hours." He took a few steps then placed his hand against the ground. "Still very warm. This was on fire probably an hour ago."

Antonio nodded. "See, that was a very scientific explanation right there."

"I actually pick up a book once in a while," Abel said.

Antonio pursed his lips. "You were researching me!"

"Could care less about you," Abel muttered, "Was more curious about the town. Didn't know I'd get to see it one day."

"So there's…constant fire," Gilbert said, "And nobody thought to try to put it out? Instead they let it roam free? What about the town."

Antonio took them to the border of town, which was guarded by a wall of tall boulders protected by an empty moat. The town itself was a crop of buildings that towered overhead, cramped in such a confined space.

"The town is in no danger." Antonio plunked down into the moat and crawled across the other side to scale a boulder. He sat atop it, legs crossed. "Plus have you tried to put out fire that catches oil? That's a bad idea. The mines under here just create new fires anyway. It's not a problem, so there's no need to fix it." He grinned brightly, "It makes the town special in a way."

Gilbert glanced back and worth. "Wait. Where's Lovino?"

"Must not have heard that we landed," Antonio said. "I'll…uh…go find him. Francis will lead you where you need to go."

Francis scrambled out past the moat and over the rock. "There's a little stone bridge somewhere to the right, but that involves walking there, and you know how sky pirates feel about walking." He chuckled to himself, like appreciating a private joke.

The town was a jumble of wooden, cylindrical structures, with roofs fanning out between stacked layers, sometimes connecting to adjacent circles where they would have overlapped. Sloping gently, these roofs were like streets; People walked on all levels, climbing ladders to other stories or emerging from windows to hook laundry to lines spanning building to building. In several locations, families sat outside to eat flatbread and beanmash in the coolness of night. Fire pits crackled. Chatter permeated the air.

"Wow," Gilbert breathed. In all his years of marching as a soldier—and the intense variety of towns he'd seen—he'd never seen anything quite like this. They walked under it, in what were circular, twisting alleyways caught beneath the edges of the roofs where they could see no stars. The clatter of footprints was loud overhead.

Francis grinned. "It really is a cool town," he said. "The fire often closes into a tight circle around the moat, so there is no room for expansion. That in mind, they built upwards. It's where Antonio and I grew up, so we have a certain degree of loyalty to some of the people here. He…wanted to bring his brother some money, to help with taxes." He found a metal rod of a ladder and started climbing up.

The crew followed and emerged through a little square opening on one roof.

"Francis—" came a shout.

Francis, suddenly sheepish, smiled back at a waving girl. "Hello to you too, Chelles. Go find João for me? Antonio should be along in a few minutes. We have a lot to catch up on."

"Okay!" She scampered off, disappearing into a nearby window.

"I think we should find a place to stay," Francis said. "We might be here a few days."

"You have family here too?" Gilbert asked. "You said you grew up here."

Francis shook his head. "Antonio was my family here," he said. "He and his brother sort of took me under his wing when I showed up here." He chuckled a bit. "My family is from a major city sort of crammed into the desert area, near Rüs actually. Unable to feed us all, they kicked me out of the house as soon as I was able to fend for myself on the streets. I suppose in the end it's worth it, since they had my two younger brothers to feed. Heaven knows what's become of them now, but I've only ever wished them the best."

He shrugged lightly and started off toward the center of the town, taking it roof by roof. "There were no opportunities for me in that city, so I left to find my own. Sometimes you have to be proactive when it comes to making your own luck. My luck started when I first met Antonio fifteen years ago."

"I wouldn't call meeting Antonio lucky, but whatever," Abel said.

Francis pinched his side, "We all know you secretly at least appreciate him."

"You're delusional," Abel said.

Belle seemed completely at home in this eccentric town, walking for the first time without glancing for enemies. She bobbed her head to the tinny vibration of strings coming from a nearby roof, where young boys—covered head to toe with ashes—sat cradling oblong instruments as they gobbled up a skewered mash of meat and grain. She scurried ahead to Francis's pace, eager to drink everything in.

"That's how I felt the first time I saw this too," Francis told her. He pointed to a jointed tower with a ladder stitched up one side. "That there? That's the look-out. You can see miles along the prairie, keep track of the movement of the fire, spy on the birds."

Gilbert grinned. "We should pay it a visit." He frowned. Lovino would have loved to hear something like that. The bastard climbed as naturally as he walked. What was taking Antonio so long?

A heaviness hung in his chest. He had a guess as to what was bothering him—the same thing that gnawed at his own consciousness, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. I only made things worse, he realized. How did he expect to protect one man when he'd already failed to protect an entire village? History repeats itself, like clockwork. He held his breath to avoid the anxiety twisting in his stomach.

Through his haze, he didn't quite register that the group had stopped. He'd walked into Abel's back, who only turned to clap a hand on his shoulder to keep him from losing his footing.

"Uh, thanks," Gilbert managed.

Abel nodded. "Should pay attention to where you're walking."

Chelles sat under the window that a dark haired man leaned out of. Long hair swept back in a ponytail. Ashes and scars marred a face slightly more angular than but very similar to Antonio's. One scar slashed across his right eye. He turned his head and snorted in greeting but, when he did not see Antonio, his face fell.

He climbed through the window like a cat and walked to Francis. "Where is Antonio. Chelles did not say you would be delivering bad news. If he's dead, bring me his ashes so I can slap them."

"I see you haven't changed much, João," Francis said. "A bit taller, older, maybe."

"Cut to the chase." Dark eyes narrowed.

"Antonio is not dead," Francis reassured him. "In fact, he'll be along shortly."

João's shoulders visibly relaxed. "Good. Don't you dare scare me like that again."

Antonio was never much of a lockpick, but he'd managed once or twice before, so he felt confident enough to jimmy the door to Lovino's cabin open with just the flat of his blade. It took several minutes and deep gouges into the surface of the knob to gain entry.

He found Lovino curled in his bed, the metallic bird locked into his arms. He slept feverishly, exhaustion cutting deep circles under his eyes.

"Lovino," Antonio said. Gently. He rested a hand on his shoulder. "We've arrived. C'mon. No one stays aboard the ship. Especially not in Kayma. It's the safest place I know."

Lovino opened his eyes. It took a few minutes for Antonio's face to sharpen in his vision. He sat up, groggy. "I just want to sleep," he groaned.

"Not an option. Captain's orders," Antonio said, though he did help him down and wrap an arm around him. "I know…that something is going on. But, I guarantee you that once you've had good food in your stomach, you'll be better able to deal with whatever it is. You have to take care of yourself. And, as Captain, I will make sure that my crew is healthy."

Lovino only groaned again. "What, you're not going to demand answers?"

"We all have dubious pasts," Antonio said. "I never demand explanation for anything that is not directly harmful to this crew or our mission. This is a safe place and has always been. We all had to restart for one reason or another. You can't do so around people who see you through the eyes of your mistakes."

He squeezed gently.

"You really think that people can just throw all the shit from their past away?" Lovino asked. "And just…just start over like nothing happened?"

Antonio shrugged a bit and started leading him from the room and out onto the deck. "We all pay for our sins one way or another, but they do not define us unless we let them."

"The hell does that change anything. Sounds like a bunch of running away," Lovino said.

"Maybe," Antonio said, "But we all must learn from our mistakes and rebuild. It's our choices that lead us into the future. Not our pasts. Otherwise, when would we ever claw our way out of the cage of guilt and regret? The miraculous but commonly forgotten thing is that people change. And people decide for themselves what they are and what they want to become."

He lifted Lovino's chin with one finger to get him to meet his eyes, his own earnest. "Did you know I was born in a circumstance where I would have spent my whole life a slave to the mines that burrow under these prairies? It took a lot of mistakes, but I figured out that that was not the sole purpose to my life, so I left it and paved my own way."

"My shit isn't that simple," Lovino said.

"Maybe not," Antonio said. "That still doesn't excuse you from eating supper. C'mon."

They dropped into the grass to find that the line between the dead and the living had ceased. Green, tall grass swayed with a slight gust of wind for as far as they could see.

But the ground was hot, even through their shoes

"The mine fires are flaring up…" Antonio said.

Flames swept from the distance in a fluttering wave, like the tide lapping up on a shore, fire as languid as flowing water. The tang of burning smoke thickened the air. Blades of burning grass passed the fire back and forth as the wind beckoned.

"Holy shit—" Lovino made a run for it.

Antonio grabbed his collar from behind, stumbling slightly, but halting the other. "Don't worry about it," he said, "It moves really slowly. And it's natural. Just walk with me back to the city."

"The fucking prairie is on fucking fire—" He covered his mouth with one arm, coughing harshly.

"Yes. It is," Antonio said. He kept a hand on his shoulder and led him off toward the outcrop of buildings. Fire crackled and hummed behind them.

Lovino stared backwards over his shoulder.

"It's part of the prairie. It might be extremely dangerous, but in a way we've adapted to it, and now we just find it beautiful. It's a weird harmony, but we appreciate it."

"Hnnnn."

By the time they reached João's little house, the crew had sprawled out over his roof, munching on strips of dried meat that had been smoked in little chambers set up along the prairie. It was tough and sinewy, but the natural flavor of the smoked grasses and salt made it delicious if not chewy.

João rose to his feet as soon as Antonio's first foot fell into his territory. He advanced on him. "The next thing better than slapping your ashes is my slapping your actual face. You allowed them to mislead me into thinking you were dead."

Antonio blinked. "I never told them to do anything of the sort, brother." He grinned, "You were worried?"

"Hell no," João muttered. He tutted softly, a sour expression muddling across his features, but eyes bright. He reached to scratch at the back of his neck. "You'd like the attention too much if I was, you spoiled brat."

"I probably would," Antonio admitted.

He accepted a strip of meat from Francis, and passed half of it along to Lovino, who immediately slumped into Gilbert. The boy rubbed furiously at his eyes with a sleeve, hoping to clear away the sting.

"The fire is approaching," Antonio informed him.

"Nothing gets past you, does it," João quipped, sniffing the air. He scoffed and went to lean against the wall. "So what made you decide to come back? And don't change the subject."

"I brought money to help this town pay its taxes for the next 6 month period," Antonio said simply, waving his hand like that sum of money was nothing, though he lowered his voice and pulled his brother to the side, just around the wall from the rest of his group.

João bristled. "So you really did run off to become a pirate, then. And how exactly am I supposed to be proud of a thieving younger brother?"

Antonio shrugged. "Didn't say you had to be. I'm just keeping the young out of the mines the best I can. You know what happened to our father. I won't let it happen to some innocent kid. Just take the money."

João spat to the side, wiping grime from his eyes with his arm. "We are perfectly able to fend for ourselves. If you'd really wanted to help, you wouldn't have left us."

"Nothing was going to get better or change," Antonio said.

"There was one less person to protect the younger boys. The ones who aren't strong enough to deal with the sweltering conditions of heavy labor in those mines. Boys who have died trying to earn money to feed their families."

"That's why I'm telling you to take this money—" Antonio insisted. "They won't have to mine."

"It's not that simple and it's never been that simple," João spat. "They're going to wonder where we got all that money. They'll know it wasn't from the mine when output of Silf decreases. Their only goal here is to get the precious metal. That's where their profit comes in—not from the measly taxes they charge to keep us just poor enough to resort to working for them." His chest rose and fell with the frustration that he felt. He kept his fists curled at his side.

"It'll at least ease the burden, then," Antonio said. He spoke in a whisper. "As apology for leaving, but not as a sign of regret for what I did."

Francis skirted around the building as well, hearing the hushed argument. "You both have too much pride," he said.

"No one asked you," João muttered.

Francis shrugged. "I suppose not." He put a hand on Antonio's elbow. "So you won't take the money then?"

João tossed his head. "Hell no."

"Then, tell us what it is that we can do to help while we are here," Francis said. He tightened his grip just slightly, until Antonio nodded.

"I don't know." João said tersely. "For all Antonio's stupid idealism, there really isn't anything that can be done. Not every problem has a solution."

Antonio, who had been staring at the ground, jerked his head up. "That's not the brother I know. Who is saying those words in his place? You're the one who taught me to fight for what I wanted."

"When you have to fight for survival, let's just say that beggars can't be choosers," João said. He looked away.

Antonio hesitated. "João…? What's happened? Something bad happened and you're not telling me."

João swallowed. "Aren't you a fast one."

This time, Antonio broke free from Francis's hold and put both hands on either of his older brother's shoulders. "You are bitter about what I did, and maybe rightly so. But I am your brother. And nothing will change my love for you, no matter how far we drift apart or disagree. I will do what I can to help you. Regardless. So tell me what's happened."

"They've demanded increased output," João finally said, after a lengthy pause. "The owner of the mines is getting greedy, and the king's army is paying handsomely for new weapons and armour made from Silf. Boys are now working fifteen to sixteen hours a day."

Antonio chewed on his bottom lip. "That's inhumane."

"Do you really think they stop to consider whether they're treating us like humans?" João said. "They've raised food prices to force us into this new schedule. And god knows there's nothing to be hunted on this prairie to supplement, not with the fire burning like it is, and now twice as intense and covering twice the area it used to now that the mine burrows further."

"What can I…do about it?" Antonio asked. Cautiously. He kept his hands firm on his brother's shoulders.

The other slumped forward just slightly, as if finally accepting his gesture of comfort. It was obvious in the way he swayed as he stood, and the sagging features trapped beneath the film of soot, that he was exhausted. His breaths came in quiet little wheezes. His eyes watered red from irritation.

"There is nothing to be done," João said. "I've told you. We just have to survive. We can't all just hop aboard ships and fly away to be renegades."

"You haven't spilled everything," Antonio said with a start. "There is still something you're not spilling and I know it because I know you."

João groaned a little bit and wiped at his eyes again. "Burial. At dusk."

Antonio tensed. "Whose?"

"Five boys," João said. His teeth chattered as he spoke. "Caught in a cave-in that lit up. Suffocated by smoke. Good kids." His voice cracked.

The other blanched. "Oh god…" He caught João as he finally surrendered to his fatigue, and held him tight against his chest. The pair trembled. Antonio rubbed his back. "Then we'll…send their spirits off to burn and…and…figure out what's next…"

The burial was a somber affair. There was no digging into the oil coated grasses, lest they accidentally sparked an explosion of raging inferno from pockets of redhot Silf. Instead, they took advantage of the wandering vein of fire as it crackled along the grass. The bodies, wrapped in sheets, were laid in a row then doused with oil. Under the pale, smoky night sky, they lit up in balls of flame.

The citizens of the little town of Kayma stood with their heads bowed, steady against the blistering heat as it consumed their dead. Tears ran tracks through soot. Smoke agitated nostrils and eyes.

No words were spoken until the last of the bodies decayed to ashes and the flames, finding nothing more to feed on, traveled on with a solitary gust of wind which raked sparks on the procession. They threw the ends of fireproof cloaks in front of their bodies but backed off.

They looked at João to speak, and that was when Antonio realized that they saw him as the leader.

He took a step forward, seeming twice the man that he was when Antonio had left him the first time.

"Their spirits burn free with the flames that consume this land," he said, simply. Never much of one for words, especially when his voice cracked the way it did. He retreated from the flames to join his brother. "I was thinking about what you said."

"What is it that you need me to do, then?" Antonio asked. "Anything."

"It's a risk," João said. "A huge risk."

"My crew lives for risks."

"I want to take that mine," João said. "For Kayma."

"You mean…steal it?"

"Those profits are ours. For generations, we've lived and died in those mines. The man who owns the mine lives in a town a few hours south, the town that Francis says he's originally from. I want him dead. I don't care. I just want him dead. Him and all affiliated with him." He crushed a clump of grass with a livid twist of his foot. "Then. Then we can call our own shots. And stop these outrageous demands."

"You are right, it is very risky," Antonio agreed. Fervor lit in his eyes. "But my men are good. And we'll get it done."

"Just don't fuck it up," João warned. "Because then it's the end for us."

"I will speak to my crew," Antonio said.

His crew had been standing behind the line of the procession, staring somberly at the ground, unwilling to interrupt. He started toward them, but João grabbed his shoulder.

"Antonio," he said, "I want to be the one who drives the blade through his heart. Just help me get close to him. That's all I ask. I would never make my younger brother into a murderer."

"For my kin, I would become anything," Antonio said, but he nodded. "Very well. Be an honorary member of my crew."

"I'm not calling you captain," João said. "So don't ask."

"The ones who do call me that use the word sarcastically," Antonio admitted. "You'd fit right in."

They met inside João's house, which they reached by taking a few ladders up to the appropriate level of the city then climbing in through the window. The room was round, with a low table surrounded by cushions and a little metal bin where he kept most of his preserved meats and a few dried turnips. He'd hung a few paintings on the wall, his own work, which he dismissed humbly when asked about. His firepit, a metal tube with wired grating, sat just outside his window. He shared it with several neighbors on adjacent rooftops, and they'd often sit outside eating and chattering.

"Remember when it was you, me, Francis, and father sleeping in this one little room?" Antonio asked.

"There are things I try to forget," João said.

Abel raised both eyebrows, impressed. Though the room was fairly large, it felt cramped with the entirety of the crew spread out leaned against its walls.

Lovino, still uneasy, had found an amazing distraction in the architecture of this city, and the easy vitality that flowed even from such tired, worn out people. The soot that coated them did not choke them out.

"Okay," Antonio started. "Then plan." They spoke quietly. There was little to no privacy between rooms and rooftops, but with the somber air, most of the town had retreated into their own little corners. Not many footfalls clattered across the shingles.

"So, the ultimate goal here is to win back our mines and our livelihood," João said. "One way or another."

Antonio nodded. "In order to be the undisputed owners, you're going to need the deed of ownership to it."

"And the bodies of our oppressors burning in our grasses," João muttered.

Roderich shuddered. "Harsh."

"Better them than us," João said, eyes hard.

The ex-noble looked away.

"The fire is hungry," Antonio agreed, reciting a childhood mantra, "It will consume what it must."

João had been mouthing the words along with a slight nod of his head. "But getting to that foul pig will be difficult. We cannot outmatch the soldiers who he brings to the mines, so attacking there would be a death wish."

"True," Antonio said.

"Just…go to where he lives," Lovino said.

João opened his mouth then closed it, then opened it again, as he considered this. "I am assuming he lives in Kito, but that city is dense. Finding him would be near impossible."

Elizabeta stood. "Then you wanted to catch him and his guards in a chamber in the mines, rig it so it collapses in on them, then light that bastard to high hell?" She exchanged grins with Lili.

"And endanger the kids working those mines?" João shook his head, firmly. "No." He paced the floor, each step punctuated with the creak of wood. He stopped at the table and stared down at the knots in its surface, then turned so suddenly that he almost smacked Antonio in the face. "Wait. Wait. I was in the city delivering our taxes to the Overseer's office when I heard talk of a high society little…thing going on."

Antonio, catching himself as he stumbled back, snapped his finger, nodding fervently. "Figure out just when and where this party is and get him alone. Make him take us to his place of residence and sort out matters for ourselves."

Roderich groaned his disapproval. He wrung his hands, brows furrowed. "Murder, though? This isn't what we stand for."

João made a harsh motion with his hand, clicking his tongue with impatience. "I will be the one to kill him. Your hands will remain clean."

"As clean as an accessory to murder can possibly be," Roderich muttered.

"Wouldn't be any different than the stains already there," Gilbert hissed. He felt Lovino tense beside him, but placed a hand on his elbow.

Only Abel and Belle had been within earshot of the two. They both turned to stare.

With the sound of a caged animal, Lovino only pulled away, sharply, and climbed from the window. His footsteps retreated. Gilbert did not follow, but he felt guilt coil tighter within his chest, like an overworked spring.

Antonio shot them all a questioning look. Abel shrugged. He turned back to his brother, looking hesitant and uneasy, but determined to plan this through. "How do we confirm the time and place, then?"

Gilbert raised his hand with a little swallow. "Have one of us impersonate someone from high society."

"If one had something with the right crest then maybe—"

Gilbert sighed. "True. I have military regalia still…?"

Antonio shook his head. "He's unlikely to be too fond of the king's dogs." He spoke with a contempt that made Gilbert flinch.

From behind Gilbert, Roderich scoffed.

Belle had been sidling toward Gilbert. She pointed to her ring finger then to his pocket, lips pressed in a thin line as if willing him to understand. He caught on, pulling the ring from his pocket and handing it off.

She stood and dropped it into Antonio's palm, then watched intently as he turned it over in his hand. Unable to see clearly in the dwindling light, he hung half out the window to investigate by the flicker of a lantern hanging outside, which he brought in with him. He placed it on the table and sat, thinking, while the glow of flame glanced across the walls. Still, Belle stared. The shadows pooled in her cheeks sharpened in the increased light.

"This is…definitely a valuable ring," Antonio said slowly.

Belle nodded and motioned for him to continue speaking. She fumed with a sort of impatience, like water fizzling out of a sealed pot.

Gilbert's head jerked upward. He'd been shifting closer to the window, hoping to follow Lovino. Only halfway there, he waited for Antonio to continue speaking.

"It's from the Wingless City," Antonio said, placing it down on the table, the click of metal against wood heavy in the silence. "That's all I really know about it."

"It was from the House of Tehn," Roderich finally said with a scornful sigh. He raised his voice to overcome the quiet solemnity of the room, but only intensified it somehow. Feeling all eyes upon him, he stood, still wringing his hands. He glanced toward the window, but took a few steps forward. "One of the upper nobility on the Second Tier. The family still exists there, but with permanent shame marring their name. Still, it should be enough to get you into whatever party you want to go to. Anything from the Wingless City is worth more than the scum nobility clinging to the ground beneath."

"…Are you meaning to say that you're familiar with this House? I've never heard of it." Antonio asked.

"You know the policy," Roderich snapped. "I will not answer questions about my past if those questions aren't pertinent to the safety of your so-called crew." He looked at Gilbert. His eyes narrowed into slits, daring him to speak out against him.

"Very well," Antonio said. "Fair enough."

Belle's shoulders relaxed, but a look of sour disappointment pressed her lips into an even thinner line. She threw her hands up in the air and stormed back to Abel, who only raised a brow.

João processed all this information silently before speaking. "So one of you needs to wear that ring and get the information. The lower nobility would probably kowtow and all that shit to have someone with high standing attend their party, I'm sure. If that's how that all works." His smirk was more bemused than anything, but he spoke quickly with confidence. "Then we crash this party and get what we came for. This is better than I expected it to be."

"I'll wear the ring," Roderich sneered, snatching it up from the table. "I am the only one with the mannerisms believable enough for this."

João frowned, but Antonio merely nodded. "I have no reason not to trust you in this. But please keep it that way." He seemed tired.

With that, the meeting adjourned.

Gilbert, desperate to find Lovino, tumbled from the window in a tangle of ill-placed limbs. He rolled, groaning, then scrambled to his feet and walked quickly cross the rooftops, keeping a quiet lookout for any long shapes. He found the other sitting with his feet dangling off the edge of a roof just one tier above them.

"I was still listening to the meeting," Lovino said. "Sound carries."

Gilbert deposited himself in the space next to him. In the silence, he pumped his legs back and forth, leaning back slightly, hands behind him for support. His fingertips brushed Lovino's. "Hey," he said.

"What?" Lovino grunted.

"Roderich admitted that—"

"The ring is from the House of Tehn? I know," Lovino said. "I said I was listening. My attacker wore that ring. One of them."

"Corrado…?"

Lovino shook his head. "No…he had the wrong face. I think. How the hell am I supposed to know?"

"Is there any way…that Belle would have seen that ring?" Gilbert asked. "Living in Rüs, which is easily the farthest fucking thing away from Volare."

Lovino shrugged. "I don't know okay. I hardly know my first name. Don't ask me hard questions." He grunted. His head thudded into Gilbert's arm none too gently, but he kept it there.

"Then I'll ask you an easy question," Gilbert said.

Lovino only hummed in response.

"Want to crash a fancy party with me?"

"Gilbird will be your date. Don't like parties."

"Flametalon will not. You will." Gilbert poked at his side til the other squirmed, then wrapped an arm around to squeeze him. "Think of all the pockets you could pick."

"I don't have anything to wear," Lovino finally said.

Gilbert's lips only stretched into a wide grin. "And you don't think that we have bags of money for that very purpose? This is a mission. Expenses like that are part of the deal."

The following evening, as the 'foul pig' marked the day's final inventory of Silf mined, Roderich approached him in a carriage that João had arranged to send in a wide sweep around the town, to make it appear as if it had traveled from another direction. Its wheels, made from heavy stone, made traveling slow—and exhausted the horses—but prevented it from catching fire over patches of dwindling flame. The wind did not blow this day, so the flames did not travel, but rather sat stewing in the sluggish heat.

The soldiers that kept a patrol of the area acknowledged him with a little nod, one among them watching him carefully but keeping silent until his business was done.

Ludwig.

Roderich acknowledged him with a glance, but walked to the supervisor of the mine. "Hello, I have been traveling a long way and—" he brushed dirt from his shoulder. The ring flashed. "I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of Kito."

The supervisor realized he was staring, then put his clipboard and pen into a little carrier case and folded everything up. He secured the strap to his shoulder, holding it there with one hand. His own ring, an iron band, was lackluster in comparison, the opal dim and colourless. "You are…you are far from home."

"Quite," Roderich said. "And I will need accommodation."

They spoke quietly while the boys from the mines emerged coughing up gobs of black tar, wiping streaks of the soot from their eyes so that they could see. João worked with him, but because the mines had so many cracks and small crevices, only boys could squeeze past to most of the tunnels to do the hardest of the work. They carried out Silf in jugs sealed with clay and cloth. It sloshed, piping hot, across their containers, warming the walls til they glowed. The boys grimaced but kept a steady pace; dropping the metal—which was mined as a liquid—would result in lashings. Once they'd deposited their load, they hobbled home in groups, supporting each other.

Finished with his business, Roderich turned as if to leave. Ludwig met him behind his carriage.

"I got your message. I am dubious about what it is that you want me to do. I need confirmation before I act. This…is not easy for me to do."

"Betraying a brother never is. Interesting coincidence, but I promise you it was purely that. Your brother does like to stumble into the thick of things, doesn't he."

"A penchant that worries me," Ludwig mumbled. "I just hope he's not attached to the boy. I already feel like enough of a monster as it is."

"Remember, he betrayed you first." Roderich raised both eyebrows, but held up the hand with the ring. "And this is confirmation enough. It was in the boy's possession."

Ludwig blinked. "That's…the king's." He ran his hands through his hair, sheltering the beginnings of a headache as he rubbed at his temples. "How does that prove anything? He likely stole it."

"The King would know, I'm sure," Roderich said. "Take it back to him and ask him. That will be the confirmation that you or he needs. As for the boy—"

"Shoot first, ask questions later. I get it," Ludwig said. He licked his lips, throat suddenly dry. "What do the pirates know of the boy or that ring?"

"Nothing of the boy, nothing of the ring. I fed them a little lie or two. You can make your move at the upcoming masquerade."

He nodded once with a sharp intake of breath. "The sooner this is over, the better."