I tried to edit but I can hardly keep my eyes open, so...maybe later. Trying to update Mertalia but it's p slow.

Can't resist implied sorta USUK, sorry guys. Also affectionate Prumanos.

João's actions were not without repercussion. Of course no one had mourned the noblemen's death, but the kingdom, suddenly out of production at the Silf mine, came by to investigate. João played the part of a haggard peasant, wearing ripped and dirty clothes on purpose while Antonio and his crew stood hidden nearby. These men were soldiers dressed as merchants. They wore fine silks but seemed ill-suited in them, like they were used to armor. Their daggers were poorly concealed.

"It's run dry," João informed them. "Nothing we can do about that." He wore his hair down today. It was growing too long.

"We just think it's highly suspicious that your supervisor would meet his end…coincidentally right before such claims," one said, wrinkling his nose at the stench of burning oils. He rubbed burning eyes with a silken sleeve—proof that he was no official.

"Is it really?" João asked. This time he smirked a little bit. "We all know he was dabbling in the black market. Suddenly unable to produce product? They have no use for him. They killed him. They even came by here and saw for themselves. Couple of them met their end. With no Silf down there anymore, the mine itself has caught fire. You want to check? Go risk your life. I hear silk catches fire fast."

The group shuddered. One unrolled a thick parchment and scrawled something down. "There's something fishy here is all."

João shrugged. "What could you possibly want with land that catches fire? We're of no use to you or the kingdom anymore." He turned to leave, not caring if they thought this discussion needed to continue or not. His special shoes, leather infused with Silf, allowed him to walk across a line of fire that had crept along behind him. He'd instructed his boys to start lighting the prairie. It traveled in waves, taking its time without the wind to push it along. To the soldiers it was an uncontrollable blazing inferno. To João, it was the spirit of his land. He didn't mind the burn of smoke in his eyes or nostrils or the way it caught his cloak then died. He walked slowly.

The wind picked up and the flame reared into something massive. The soldiers ran for their wagon and whipped the horses into a panicked gallop.

Only then did Antonio and the crew join João on his walk back to Kayma, which was safely shrouded in a thick smoke, protected by their moat. The wind brought with it clouds which boiled themselves into a frenzy above. Rain came, sizzling at the fire, until the bouncing drops themselves spread the flames. Still, the waves quieted down into a quiet smoulder.

"That was pretty awesome," Antonio said, all smiles.

"Probably not over," João said. "But we know this land better than they ever will."

They reached the rooftops. People sat out as if sunbathing, to catch the cool drops on their skin. Everywhere, basins collected the water. It would probably rain for a few hours; they needed the water for the week, otherwise they'd have to travel to haul it in from the mountains.

The boys gathered around João, shouting and wrestling to vie for his attention. A few still waved their sticks of fire over the squabble.

"Oi," he said. Even though his voice was quiet, the boys halted, silenced to listen. He plucked one of the sticks from their hands and threw it into a cooking basin. "Don't play with fire in our home," he said.

The rest followed his example.

He grabbed one boy into a headlock and thoroughly ruffled his hair. He wasn't gentle, but the affection was in the attention. "You all did good." He nodded with a slight smile.

"They all look up to him," Abel said with a nod of approval, he found a place to lounge against the side of one of the buildings.

Antonio took his place beside him. "Who knows how in the world the two of us came from the same stock. But I'm very proud of him…"

"You're not a complete letdown yourself," Abel muttered, "You and him are a lot alike. I just think you're also part idiot."

Antonio laughed, "I'll take that as a sorta-compliment, I think…"

A young girl came pounding along across the tops of the buildings, weaving a circular path, pigtails flying behind her. When she stopped, in front of Antonio, her skirt bloomed around her. It was probably once very beautiful fabric, but now it was charred at the ends and as dirty as her bare feet. Still she grinned and presented him with a little bird. "Message," she said.

Francis steadied her by putting his hands on her shoulders. "Good evening, Chelles."

Antonio scrambled to his feet. "Hey, that's Gilbert's bird—"

She'd already unfastened the message so that she could play with the bird. It hopped along her shoulders and across her arms when she held them out.

Antonio read quietly, brows pinching together. "What in the world…?"

Abel also stood. "Hmm?"

"How is it that we let those two go unsupervised for barely two weeks and somehow they're plotting to overthrow the king…?"

Abel snatched the message away and read for himself. "Damn. They've got balls."

"And brain-rot…" Antonio said with a frown. "God I told them to stay safe. How in the world did they even-?"

Belle pressed her lips in a thin line and looked back and forth. She pulled Abel's sleeve. "Careful," she said.

He nearly leapt from his skin. "You spoke…?"

She nodded. The words were difficult. Her throat and tongue felt thick. "Been…practicing. At night." She pointed to João. "We speak."

He nodded a bit, almost seeming hurt.

"Surprise," she said with a shrug, like it was nothing. She pointed to the room. "Don't trust Roderich," she whispered hoarsely.

"Never trusted that snake," Abel agreed.

"Been sending messages," she managed. "Birds."

"Shit," Abel muttered, glancing around for the ex-noble. "This is what we get for unconditionally trusting just anyone who wants to join our crew. Antonio has meat for brains."

Belle shrugged again. "Second chances."

"Thieves are more trustworthy than ex-nobles, apparently though," Abel said. He kept a calm expression and smoked. "I'll take care of him myself," he said, "because if he gets wind of whatever the hell Lovino and Gilbert are doing, then it's the end for them. Don't want to see the kid be cut down like that."

"You care," Belle said.

"In spite of myself," Abel said, "I care about a lot of people."

"I know," she said. The words started coming easier. She knew she was safe here among this band of thieves. Maybe she was confined to a deck most of the time, but she had never been so free. She no longer had to look over her shoulder; she no longer felt phantom stabs of pain along raised scars. She kissed his cheek, pleased that he stared off into the distance, as if willing his cheeks not to blush. They didn't, but the tips of his ears turned red. "There is something I need Antonio to know," she said.

"What is that?" he asked.

"Something about Lovino. But you'll have to tell him. I…" she swallowed a bit, "I'm not sure if I can speak to everyone yet. It's still hard. And maybe my silence is advantageous. Roderich doesn't…tiptoe around me. Because he thinks I can't tell on him. He's very smug about it." She scowled at the ground. "Should punch him in the jaw."

"A little violent, but I get the sentiment," Abel said. "If you tell me, I'll relay the message. I might even go back and call Roderich a horse's ass on your behalf as well."

Belle slapped a hand to her mouth, muffling a quiet snicker.

He quietly wrapped one arm around her shoulder, looking away as he did so, and gave a tight squeeze. "I'll get on that. And you're surprisingly shrewd. It's something to be admired." He released her. "But let's find a rooftop out of earshot and talk about Lovino."

They moved to the uppermost layer of roofs and, after doing a quick check of all the windows, sat again. The wood was a little slippery from rain, especially because there was nothing hanging over them. They allowed the drops to pelt them, thankful for a cool reprieve from the summer heat. For a few minutes, they watched the fire slowly curl in on itself, persisting on but only as embers.

"So…Lovino," Abel prompted.

Belle struggled through a sudden knot in her throat. She steadied herself against Abel's shoulder, scowling in frustration as she tried to choke through a few words.

He placed a hand on her arm until she calmed down. "Breathe," he said. "I don't do mouth to mouth."

She managed a little laugh at that and, much more at ease, started tracing along the raindrops running down her calve. "The ring."

"Which ring?"

"Rubies," she answered.

He knew immediately and nodded. "Okay, yes, that's still in Roderich's possession."

"Rare, yes?"

He nodded. "Rubies are the rarest stone. Worth a fortune. Should have sold that damn thing. Antonio has been bitching about needing to make repairs and all that on the ship."

"Found Lovino on the streets," she said, "I was out…walking."

The way she said walking, Abel knew exactly what she meant. He hid a small frown.

"First instinct was to shoo him away. It was a bad part of town. Kids need to be safe at home with their mothers. He was…eleven? Twelve? But homeless," she said. She allowed herself enough of a pause to catch her breath again, watching the rain bounce from the shingles and drip into the levels below. "And bleeding, which is why I took him in. Hands covered in blood too. Dripping from his nose and ears. Trauma, I guessed. Could barely speak. Kept hacking it up."

Abel winced a little bit. "Sounds like he'd been through an ordeal."

She nodded, "Wouldn't answer my questions. Kept sobbing for someone and staring at his hands." She chewed at the cuticle of her pinky. By then her hair hung in wet clumps around her ears. She brushed it aside, thinking harder. "There wasn't much I could do. Taking him into the—into the…home was dangerous. Found an alley I sometimes hid in. Made it comfortable enough." She heaved a bitter mix between a sigh and a laugh, "I guess it was like playing pretend. I had a child to take care of. We pretended that the alley was an actual home. But I couldn't feed him much. I didn't control where my money went."

Abel stopped her with a light touch to her shoulder. He focused on the staccato tap of rain and breathing in a heavy mix of damp air and smoke. "Okay. But why is this important to tell Antonio?"

She blinked. "Right." She'd picked the skin around her cuticles until they bled. "The first night. He acted really strange. Kept repeating things to me like he expected me to do something. He kept talking about that ruby ring, even tried drawing out the symbols into the dirt. Kept saying something like 'he's in my head, he's in my head, get him out' over and over again. I thought maybe it was because of the trauma…but he just kept begging me to 'get him out'."

Abel shuddered a little bit. "Someone in his…head?" Even he could not remain stoic at the idea.

She shook her head. "The next day he didn't remember a thing. Like…he was a kid again. A confused kid, but still just a kid. It's like he didn't even question why he was in an alley, nor would answer any questions about where he came from. He looked at me funny when I called him by the name he gave me the day before, then kind of just accepted it." She shrugged, gnawing on the inside of her cheek, brows raised. "So, I helped him become a thief, because how else was he going to have food to eat? And we took care of each other for those years."

Abel nodded slowly. He was having a hard time getting his cigar to light, so he gnawed on the end. His hair had flattened in the downpour. He swore, trying to push it out of his eyes. "So you're worried that there…is something wrong with him. And not just the result of trauma."

"The ring turned out to exist," Belle said.

Abel stood, drawing his cloak closer around his shoulders. "I will speak to Antonio in private. You…you need to keep an eye on Roderich."

Belle nodded. "That…I will gladly do. Lovino is my family. I would do anything to protect him…"

"Not sure what Roderich is in this for," Abel admitted with a little shrug. "Maybe if Gilbert's letter had been more thorough." Bemused, he led her down the ladder back to the level where everyone was still lounging about beneath overhangs. He tapped Antonio's shoulder and pulled him roughly to his feet.

"There are nicer ways of asking people to walk with you," Antonio said. He set down the tankard he'd been given. It sloshed half full.

"Right," Abel muttered. "Don't drink too much wine. No one likes you when you're drunk. Meet me later on the ship." He left him there.

Antonio pursed his lips as Abel disappeared off. He walked in that direction too, but found himself hooked around the neck, João's knuckles digging into his skull.

"Having a face like a frog doesn't suit you," João said. There was alcohol on his breath.

He released Antonio, allowing him a moment's reprieve to straighten his hair, wincing. Antonio coughed a little bit, "You have an odd way of showing affection, brother."

João shrugged, "Have to keep you all on your toes." Gilbird now sat on his shoulder, much to the dismay of Chelles, who now sat on Francis's lap, chatting with him about the day's events at full speed.

"I am always on my toes," Antonio said, this time managing a sad smile. "Unfortunately I think I overbalanced, and now I'm on my face."

"Okay, maybe the wine was a bad idea," João teased, pinching his shoulder. He was in a rare good mood after the burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Finally he could protect his village the way that he needed to.

Antonio shrugged a little bit, "I just have a bad feeling is all."

"About…? Because if it's about this village, you know that I have more than one trick up my sleeve. Never played by the rules."

"Neither have I," Antonio agreed. "It is not you who I doubt. It's unrelated. A personal matter."

João nodded. "We may have been estranged. I might have resented you for the path you chose. But we are still brothers. Come to me for help if you need to. My door is and always will be open." He pinched him again for good measure.

Antonio yelped and swatted at him, but he'd already ducked into the window of his house and drew down the blinds. He rubbed at his arm; that was definitely going to leave a mark.

He waited a full twenty minutes, milling about, water dripping into his eyes when he stepped out from under the overlap of roofs. He understood from the intense look Abel had given to him that this was a matter of secrecy. He made sure he wasn't followed.

Abel sat smoking in the bridge, a towel still draped over his head.

Antonio plopped down in a second chair. He smacked at Abel's boots until he removed them from the wheel. The other leaned forward in his seat.

"You decided to show up," Abel said. "Let's make this somewhat quick."

"Okay…?" Antonio said. "Exactly what are we discussing? Is this about the note…?"

"I've always been very forward and very direct," Abel said, "So. Partially." He tossed his head a bit, continued scrubbing at the back of his neck, then dropped the towel to the floor. He picked it up and absently folded it on his lap. "You are not pleased with the letter," he started.

Antonio's mouth fell open. He snapped it shut. "Of course I'm not pleased. I told them to stay safe not dismantle the damn monarchy."

"You're drunk," Abel pointed out.

"No more than I was before you called this meeting," Antonio said, "I'm frustrated."

"And drunk," he repeated.

"They requested back-up from afar. Like on-call back-up. They've bitten off more than they can chew," Antonio continued. "The last thing I want to do is watch them cut Lovino down."

"So all that stuff about family was actually bullshit?" Abel asked, one brow raised, "Look. I never sugar-coat. The only reason I stick around is to call out your bullshit, because who the hell else would?"

Antonio shoved up from his chair and paced. He gripped his fingers to his forehead, shaking his head as he mumbled darkly. "I don't know what to do. I kept our names obscure for a reason. They were supposed to lie low. I'm afraid for them…and I don't think my being there as opposed to here is going to make much of a difference. You know how impossible it is to get into Volare."

Abel shrugged a little bit. "Perhaps it is. And perhaps you're an indecisive, timid idiot."

Antonio's grip tightened around one of the spokes of his wheel. "Anything but."

Abel scoffed.

That only sparked fury in the pirate.

Finally satisfied, Abel nodded. "There's the idiot who convinced me to tag along with his antics." He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Right. Listen up." Carefully and quietly, he started telling Antonio just what Belle had told him.

As he spoke, Antonio's expression turned from furious to uneasy. "And you got this information where?"

"Where the hell do you think? Belle and I have worked out a communication system. She is afraid, and I trust her, so you should be concerned as well." He stood, leaving the folded towel on the tabletop. "Now that you have all the information, you need to make a decision." He left.

A few hours later, Antonio reappeared in his brother's little apartment, watching several members of his crew struggle to light the firepit. Someone had left it within the reach of rain and now the coals and wood were soaked through. Accusations were thrown around, until Lili marched elsewhere to borrow more supplies from another rooftop. She shook her head, eyes rolling, as she deposited it in their grill.

"You all are hopeless," she said.

Antonio and João spoke in the background of the din, which the rest managed to light the fire. Meat smoked out in the fields that day were thrown on the grating to cook through again. Francis had learned a dry rub from different herbs and spices, which he massaged into the meat. In another pot, Chelles stirred a pot of molasses and sugars and other spices.

João put a hand on Antonio's shoulder after they'd spoken a while. "Go," he said. "Just don't get killed."

"That almost seemed heartfelt…"

"It was," João said, shaking his head. "You think I was pissed off at your antics before, then you better believe I'd be furious if you got yourself killed."

Antonio smiled a little bit, "Okay, then the same goes to you." Finally Antonio stepped from the window. "Crew, pack your things…we're leaving."

Every single face frowned at him.

He blinked and stared at the food, which was just starting to liven up, sizzling in its own juices. A thick, smokey aroma hugged the air.

"Fine. After dinner."

This was met with a raucous cheer.

Arthur and Alfred did return, but that was the last that Lovino saw of his brother after that. He wondered if he was sulking somewhere, or if Arthur had threatened him in some way. Still, there was no time to worry about it too much, because every twenty minutes or so Arthur thrust the same contraption in his hands and told him to power it. Sometimes the power increased, sometimes decreased. Lovino's head began to spin faster than the gears themselves.

Pins and needles scattered his fingertips and down his legs. He felt a strange static electricity hiding just beneath the surface of his skin, like a sneeze that would not come. Breathing heavily, he leaned against Gilbert as he worked. The robot itself resembled a human more and more by the hour, until he'd laid out the last piece of the arm, scattered as plates and bolts still, but in the loose outline. He'd focused more so on the circulatory system, and a central box of gears—as large as his head and heavy—which he connected to a series of rods, gears, and miniature pulleys.

Alfred helped him jot down notes and started to bolt pieces together. Every so often he'd grease the joints, flexing and extending them, rotating the wrist, humming as he did so. Gilbert would nod, then hand certain parts off to Arthur to alchemize together. This he did so with a small groan, impatient about being interrupted from his primary task.

Eventually a servant came around with rations. He left it by the door, bowing low as he backed out. Alfred shook his head, "Told him not to do that…"

Arthur shrugged and surveyed their progress. "Well, it's been four days, and I think we're getting pretty far."

Gilbert nodded, "We'll have to see if it works is all, but I've been taking copious notes. I think…once we get over this hurdle, the rest should be fast enough if we assembly line it." He kept his mouth shut about his and Lovino's plan. Although he knew he could trust Alfred to some extent, he'd heard Arthur's warnings about stepping out of line. Could he be trusted as an ally? Disapproval he could deal with, but if that turned into meddling then…

They divided out the rations. It ended so that each had a chunk of bread, a little cheese, and some dried, salted meat. Also provided was a basket of apples from the orchids on the palace grounds. Gilbert sank his teeth into one.

"I swear, I eat better in captivity than in my day to day life."

Lovino nodded. "Yeah, the fuck is that about."

Arthur barely picked at his food. Instead, he stared darkly at his meter and grumbled to himself. He was running out of ideas. "I'm not sure what else I can do about this…"

Alfred placed a hand on his shoulder. "Well, for starters, you could take a break and actually eat, Art. You'll figure all that other stuff out. You always do!"

Arthur just sighed, but he did set down his machine to take a hearty bite of the bread. It was fluffy and chewy all at once. "Some jam would have been nice."

Lovino scooted a little clay jar to him.

Alfred laughed long and loud. "Wow, there's actually jam? It's like the King's evil tactic is making it impossible for Artie over there to complain about anything!"

Shaking his head, Arthur shoved him over. "If that were the case, he'd have done something about you."

Insufferable as he was, Alfred only batted his eyes and puckered his lips, pretending to make a grab for Arthur, who scooted away. "You only say that because you loooove me!"

"Hardly," Arthur grumbled, pushing him away once he got too close. "Don't you have food to inhale? Go do that, you dolt, and leave me be."

It was Ludwig that was sent to retrieve them by the end of the week, and he stood awkwardly at the doorway, not sure where to look or what to do with his hands. He settled with clasping them firmly behind his back until the knuckles turned white.

He cleared his throat when no one looked up.

Gilbert was the first to glance. His gaze hardened. "Oh. It's you."

Ludwig's jaw tightened. "King William wishes to note your progress. You are to bring whatever finished product you have, and I will escort you there."

"You know, I'm not sure you will," Gilbert snapped, "because the last time you offered to escort me anywhere, I ended up tied to a train while Lovino was dragged off to your damn floating prison."

"We don't have time for this right now, brother," Ludwig said.

Behind him, Arthur had already started gathering up the robot, which was completely assembled. Between him and Alfred, they carried it over their shoulders, like they were helping a drunk man limp along.

Gilbert's scowl darkened. "It's not a conversation we need to have. Because I don't want to hear whatever lame excuses you have. It was always family first. Always. You and me against this fucked up world." He stepped forward to jab his finger into his chest. He was a couple of inches shorter, but he stood his ground. "Do you know the ridiculous bullshit sacrifices I had to make for you growing up? And this is how you repay me? A knife to the back? No thank you. I already said, you are no brother of mine." He pulled Lovino to his side, walking past.

The robot groaned and rattled as Arthur and Alfred followed behind. Ludwig took the rear, back stiffer than before. He pressed his mouth into a thin line.

They walked in unbearable silence.

The king was waiting in his throne room. The juice from a peach dribbled down his chin, but as he sat up, he wiped it with a piece of cloth. He hovered over the machine, not daring to touch but fascinated. Alfred and Arthur gradually laid it out for him.

"Well?" he asked. "Does it work?"

"…We haven't had time to test it," Gilbert said, "It's the…it's the prototype."

"And you've only made one?"

"Designing takes time," Gilbert said simply. He dropped the book he'd been writing notes in. It slapped against the table.

The king blinked. "Where did you get that book?" He opened it with strange familiarity to the page where the robot schematics had been scrawled on. He nodded in approval at the changes, humming quietly to himself.

"I found it," Gilbert said, "A museum." He watched him carefully. An uneasy chill crept up his spine. He held Lovino even closer.

"Very well, fair enough," The king said. He rubbed his hands together and practically pranced back over to the robot. "So, can the kid power it or not?"

"Tentatively," Arthur said, swallowing.

Gilbert reluctantly released Lovino so that Arthur could guide him to the robot.

"You ready?" Arthur asked him.

Lovino nodded with an uneven intake of breath. He took the contraption from Arthur's hands and placed it like a dome over the chest of the robot, where the 'heart' was contained. Leaning over, he gripped at the top, hissing as he shoved his power through the metal. Gears ground into motion. The metal became hot.

The robot jerked as if in a seizure. Oil burned.

Drained, Lovino released the contraption just as the robot wheezed and screeched upright. Gilbert made a mental note in the back of his mind to apply more lubricant to some joints—but lost it in the excitement as his creation climbed to its feet. Its balance was a little off—more mental notes—but it adjusted its stance.

The king finally let out a long, low whistle. "This is…this is amazing." He hurried over to shake Gilbert's hand, ignoring the way he recoiled, jaw set. "This is—"

"The prototype," Gilbert said, rubbing his hand against his pant leg then twisting his fingers into Lovino's. Lovino leaned against him to ward of the black spots dancing in his vision. He groaned a little bit, but tightened his free fist, his command silent, but sparking through the air and snapping the robot into attention, like a true soldier.

With a startled outburst, the king clapped his hands again. "And it's…sentient?"

"In theory," Gilbert said. "But, Lovino isn't strong enough for an entire army of these. Powering just one has drained him."

As he finished speaking, the robot slumped to the floor again. The power that Lovino had supplied it was only an initial spark, which fizzled out. He would need to provide a stronger surge of energy if the robot was to sustain itself for any period of time.

Rather than disappointed, the king was nothing but delighted. Fervently, he muttered through a list of possibilities, then looked to Arthur as if the answer was obvious. "Fix the kid, then."

"I'm sure it's out of my abilities. I do alchemy. That's more working with materials than the human mind, especially with powers I don't understand."

The king blinked. "Then find someone who can solve this problem. Just be careful you don't render yourself obsolete."

Arthur frowned. Alfred took his hand behind his back. It was clammy.

The king continued to pace. He looked at Gilbert, "I am going to assume you will want help building the rest of the army. I will grant it. The factory upstairs, as I like to say, has plenty of workers who need something better to do with their time than slack off. I will turn it into my little production area. These notes are detailed enough that with a few engineers supervising, everything will run smoothly."

Gilbert thought back to the kid he'd met on the Fourth Tier. The conditions on that island were harsh enough without the extra workload. Then, he was reminded of the little boys at the mines in Kayma. Told to meet a certain output demand beyond their abilities. Would this new task push the factory workers into a similar situation?

He had to remind himself that this was all for the best. Things got worse before they got better. You don't know it, but it's for the best, he thought grimly.

He jolted from his reverie as the king snapped his fingers at Ludwig. "Bring Feliciano."

Ludwig stiffened. "He is not necessary for this—"

"Bring Feliciano," the king repeated.

Ludwig tightened his fists but left.

The king waited calmly, drumming his fingers along the tabletop until the tap of shoes alerted him to Feliciano's arrival. He stood beside Ludwig, not seeming small or diminished even beside the tall soldier. He was not afraid, just resigned.

The king pointed to Lovino. "You are responsible for this, are you not? His power limitations?"

Feliciano stood his ground but nodded. "I am. Does it anger you?"

Ludwig put a hand on Feliciano's shoulder. A silent warning.

"I should have known," The king said. "You have never made anything easy and so you continue to sabotage me. I do not know which of you I should punish-you or the soldier who is so desperate to protect you. Which would make you cry the loudest, I wonder?"

Gilbert looked between Feliciano and Ludwig, noting the tense body language between them and the way that Ludwig's eyes spelled desperation for the punishment though he could not interrupt the king.

Guilt welled up inside him. So this is what he meant. With a shaky breath, Gilbert took a few steps forward, overtaking the two so that he stood between them and the king. "It was done when he was a child. It was not willing sabotage and punishing him will fix nothing. Let Arthur and me work out our solution. We'll either help Lovino regain his memories, or find someone who can break the block."

The king raised both eyebrows. "Did you have someone in mind?"

"Lukas Bondevik—" Arthur blurted out. "He's gained a lot of prestige in the past few years as a healer and alchemist."

The colour drained from Gilbert's face. There was no way that Lukas would agree to help them, especially in light of Mathias's fate. The hell was Arthur playing at—or was he really that dense?

Alfred's expression spelled out all of Gilbert's concerns two-fold.

But the king seemed pretty pleased, as he turned away, musing quietly to himself. "Hm, he lives outside the city limits, does he not? I have heard of his reputation as a great healer who cures diseases previously thought incurable. That would be convenient…"

"I know where to find him…" Gilbert said after some thought. "But I doubt he'd agree to help."

The king waved his hand. "Of course he will agree. Go fetch him. I will arrange a ship for you and Kirkland to leave at dusk. You are to return within the week." He retreated into his back hallway, toward where his chambers were. The door was a heavy wall which slammed into place, an unbreakable barrier operated by a pulley system. He took the book with him.

"Well shit. What kind of fucked up corner did you just back us into?" Gilbert did not look at Arthur as he spoke.

"The only corner I could think of," Arthur said. "I don't think you realize how fine a line that we walk here."

Gilbert kicked at the robot. Though it echoed inside, the strike did not leave a dent. He groaned and gestured to Lovino, shouldering past Ludwig. "I'm still pissed," he growled at the soldier.

Ludwig watched him leave, snatching up Feliciano and pressing him to his body more for his own comfort than the other's. "God that was so close…" He felt weak.

Lovino followed Gilbert at a jog to keep up with the pace he tore through the hallways. "Wait, you're…you're leaving the Third Tier? You're leaving me here?"

Gilbert groaned a little, "I guess so." He only stopped once they were in the little room that they shared with Alfred and Arthur, tiny barracks outfitted with two sets of bunk beds. Gilbert sank onto his mattress. "It's not my choice and personally I think it's going to blow up in our faces."

Lovino sat beside him. "This Lukas guy…won't help?"

"Of fucking course he won't help," Gilbert snapped. He realized his tone was harsh then licked his lips, looking away until he could smooth his expression into something gentler. "Maybe the best we can do is get advice for your powers. That's all I'm thinking. But I'll be back as soon as I feasibly can."

"I'll be fine," Lovino promised. "I'm not afraid." He thought a moment, tracing across Gilbert's knuckles absently. They were stained with oil, greasy. "I will ask Feliciano to tell me as much as he knows about me. Maybe it'll all jog my memory."

Gilbert pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Just be careful."

Lovino scowled, "Should say the same thing to you. Asshole."

Gilbert only chuckled. "I'm beginning to think your insults aren't really insults but terms of endearment."

"The hell?" Lovino flicked him in the face, "Who the fuck ever heard of asshole as a petname?"

"You, apparently." He pecked his lips this time, expression still solemn. "It's how I know I'm talking to you and not an imposter. You started calling me 'honey' or some shit, I'm running the other way."

This earned a quiet snicker. Lovino's hand found the crook of Gilbert's elbow and pried his arms open so he could crawl into his lap. He kissed him long and slow, fists locked into the collar of his shirt like he was afraid to let go. When their lips parted, hovering only inches apart, Gilbert realized he was on his back with Lovino over him. He laughed nervously.

"Giving me something to think about?" he finally asked, reaching up to brush Lovino's bangs from his eyes.

"It'll make you come back faster," Lovino said with a little huff, pecking his lips again. Lazy fingers scratched circles into his scalp.

Gilbert finally felt himself smiling despite the anxiety twisting inside him. "Goddamit, you complete me."

"Don't be corny," Lovino mumbled.

Gilbert smirked a little bit. "You like it. Admit it!"

"Hell no!" He tugged sharply at Gil's hair, just enough to make him wince, then resumed his impromptu head massage.

Gilbert closed his eyes a moment, enjoying the warm weight of his lover and his ministrations, until he realized, with a long groan, that the day was already waning and that he had a ship to catch. Carefully taking Lovino's wrists in his hands, he sat up, pulling his arms down into his lap so he could kiss him with as much desperation as he could muster, like he wanted to memorize every sensation, every movement, every little gasping moan.

He parted breathlessly, automatically wiping a bit of saliva from the corner of his mouth, unashamed.

"Yes, right, I see I'm interrupting something here—"

Both turned. Arthur stood in the doorway, a bag in his hand. Silently he walked past to grab a few supplies from his own bed. "We need to be at the dock."

Gilbert released Lovino. "You could have knocked."

"To my own room?" Arthur scoffed a bit and finished packing up. "No, no, don't mind me. By all means continue."

Alfred poked his head in. "Looked like it was getting steamy! Is that the window fogging up?" He let out a low whistle and waggled his eyebrows.

"Fuck off—" Lovino muttered. "We weren't selling tickets you know. Damn perverts."

Alfred just grinned, but yelped when Arthur pinched his ass. Hard.

"Behave yourself while I'm gone," he growled.

Rubbing his rear, Alfred threw a salute in his direction. "Wouldn't dream of causing trouble in your absence." His eyes took on a glossy sadness when Arthur left without a further word. He watched Gilbert kiss Lovino one last time and turned away to stare out the window with a little sigh.

Gilbert's goodbye to Lovino was more of a promise to return soon. Although the thief tried to scowl through it all, he shook just as much as Gilbert did. They trusted each other, but there were a hundred and one paranoia-fed worries spinning in either of their heads.

The docks were covered with soldiers, most at ease, though an entourage of five or six led Gilbert and Arthur out past the heavy gate and out toward the ship. They secured the door, only three boarding, sitting in stony silence, hands tight around their spears.

Arthur chuckled to himself. "It's been so long since I've had an opportunity to leave Volare. This will be a welcomed change of scenery over that dreadful castle."

"God, I just worry about leaving Lovino there…"

"He's safer than we are," Arthur reminded him. "Always has been, always will be. We are expendable. He is not."

Gilbert shrugged. He could feel the ship sinking down through a layer of mist. It moved too slowly for his taste. He considered making conversation to ease the burden of awkward silence. "So…you and Alfred-?"

"There's nothing there," Arthur said, too quickly. He stared at the floor.

"Nothing?" Gilbert blinked, lips pursed.

"We've fooled around, not that it's any of your business," Arthur said, "but it's always been…I've always felt guilty afterward, so then it just turns into unbearable silence and neither of us knowing how to act around the other. Ideal sex should be no strings attached, no feelings involved, and yet there's something uncomfortable there."

Gilbert shrugged a little bit, almost regretting opening up this can of worms. He wondered if he should change the subject or allow Arthur to speak more about it.

Arthur continued of his own accord, "It's not like I don't want anything to be there. But I don't want to be the one who sticks the bird in a cage."

"Have you ever asked him what he wants?" Gilbert asked.

Arthur shook his head, "I don't bring up such conversations with him. But he's made it pretty clear himself. Foolish boy with his confessions. But…I just don't see how it could work." He went as far as to tap the tip of one of the soldiers' spears. "What would he possibly want with someone like me anyway? His calling has always been the skies, whether in his plane or with his damn empty head in the clouds. If he's an eagle, then I'm nothing but a stuffy old pigeon. I'd never be able to keep up. It'd end poorly and we'd both hurt more than we do now."

Uneasy, Gilbert chuckled a little. "Give yourself more credit than that, you're at least a sparrow."

The scathing look that Arthur gave him warned Gilbert to shut his mouth. They spent the rest of the trip in absolute silence.